You're STILL Wrong, Mykel's Sept 2020 Blog #1 or INC. YOU!

 YOU'RE STILL WRONG.. 

MYKEL'S SEPT. 2020 BLOG

VOLUME 1

OR

INC YOU!

by Mykel Board

Think about George Orwell's two-minutes hate from the novel '1984' and how that left everyone sort of exhausted and able to live their boring humdrum lives. If our lives are going to continue being unfulfilled and boring, perhaps we do need some sort of short-term violent chaos incorporated into them, to make them more palatable. --Chuck Palahniuk

Bebop and hip-hop, in so many ways, they're connected. A lot of rappers remind me so much of bebop guys in terms of improvisation, beats and rhymes. My dream is to see hip-hop incorporated in education. You've got the youth of the world in the palm of your hand. --Quincy Jones

Once upon a time, there was a king who had a ruby ring… but the ruby was scratched. A single line… down the middle of the jewel. The king called on all the grinders and polishers in the kingdom to remove the scratch. None could do it. An etcher approached the king. “I can fix your jewel,” he said. The king shrugged. No one else could do anything. What’s to lose? The etcher etched a rose into the ruby. The scratch became the stem of the rose. – Fairy tale told me more than once by my one-armed father.

Maybe it’s the Jew in me. Whenever I get one of those mailings for a FREE SUBSCRIPTION to anything… as long as I don’t have to pay “a fee” or “for postage and handling”… I’m there!

Flash to 1975. I’m living in my new apartment on 90^th Street on the Upper East Side. The Ruppert Beer Brewery on Third Ave disappeared ten years ago. A few ugly new buildings appeared in the rubble. The neighborhood is “changing.” I live in a railroad flat that used to house brewery workers. These tenements are called railroad flats because the rooms are all in a row… one into the other... like cars on a train…no hallway. You just go through... room to room.. until you get to yours.

In the mail… in a kind of corporate hip envelope… comes an offer to subscribe to INC. magazine. It seems like it’s written for budding entrepreneurs. I’m as budding as a blade, as entrepreneurial as Mahatma Gandhi. I am slightly more Jewish than Gandhi… and it’s 6 months FREE!

I send in my Sure, sign me up reply card… and before I know it, I get this magazine of people whose American dream is an office with big windows and nothing on the walls.

I can’t tell you one thing I read in that magazine. I can’t give you an iota of an idea inspired by that magazine… but I come back to it now, because I’ve come to LOVE the idea of incorporate.

On my couch for a month is Gavin Mendonca. We met in Guyana… where he’s from. Gavin has been touring the jungles of Guyana to learn indigenous music and INCORPORATE it into rock. He calls it Creole Rock.

It’s a shake and bake of everything together. Sure there are punk purist. Race purists. Libertarian purists. Homo and het purists. And those guys are missing out on something… something? Everything!

[Aside] For me, jazz is like toenails on a blackboard. I’m not talking about Dixieland Jazz with clarinets blowing music from old cartoons. That stuff makes me smile. I love it.

I’m talking about a quartet where every instrument is playing a different non-tune… they fight each other for a while… then one instrument screeches a solo… the audience applauds… then another instrument screeches a solo… more applause… then they fight each other with rising volume, until it’s over… and the audience applauds even more loudly.

I’d rather listen to Josh Groban than listen to that.

FLASH TO RIGHT NOW: Here I am, at a free (okay, okay, I know) outdoor concert. Locals from the neighborhood sit on folding chairs set up in front of a makeshift stage. A little boy, about 6 years old, and his sister, about two years older, run frantically back and forth in front of the stage as little kids are wont to do.

The group I came to see plays Zimbabwean music, with authentic African instruments… all the players are white. They’re quite amazing. Nora, the woman who invited me, has spent a long time in Africa learning the music and the culture. I love the way it looks... like Elvis singing “that black music.”

After them, come a jazz ensemble: guitar, synth, conga drum, bass. As they play, the little kids stop running back and forth. They look at the musicians on the stage. They freeze for a bit, then they walk. Not wondering, but heading right for the stage.

The boy stops in front of the drummer… a big black guy with a huge chest and arms like baobab trees. The boy watches him pounding a rhythm on the edge of the drum. Then the kid starts pounding… whacking away… on the other edge of the drum. I wait for someone from the audience to pick the kid up and take him off stage. No one does. Then, I wait for the drummer to brush the kid aside, maybe using a leg to push him away. It doesn’t happen. Slowly, the band incorporates the kid’s wild drumming into what they are playing.

Meanwhile, his sister is fascinated by the guitar. She sits in front of the guitar player, and watches him screech up and down on the fretboard. Occasionally, the musician steps on a pedal to add distortion, wah wah or some other effect. The foot motion draws the attention of the little girl. She watches the dance of the pedals. Then she reaches for the little knobs on those pedals… and turns them…. playing with them like they’re a toy. Turning one, twisting another, doing two at one time.

Does someone from the audience come to claim the little monster? Does the guitar player use her pedal foot to kick away the juvenile vermin? You guessed it. No! The guitar player and the entire band incorporate the freakish sounds into what they’re playing. They work around it... building on it... using it. I’ve never seen anything like it.

When they finish, I come away still not liking the sound of jazz… but loving the hell out of INCORPORATION.

- 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

→ Guyanese Incorporation Dept: You can hear some of Gavin’s fine work at these places. First, a Kaieteur Falls video where he sings in Patamona, an indigenous language. Then, a YouTuber with Sugar Cane, a multi Caribbean punkrock band incorporating everything! And finally a mixed version of a traditional Guyanese folk song.

→ My kind of humor dept: Reuters reports that ever since Covid-19 reached Cuba, a tall cardboard box with arms and legs totters around a Havana suburb, popping into the bakery or butchers, or browsing the newspaper stand.

This is Feridia Rojas, 82, who decided to build and wear mobile housing to shield herself from the virus.

“I am at home, what about you?” reads a message on her box, a nod to Cuba’s government slogan “Stay at home.”
82 years old???? Yes! It gives me hope.

→ Duh dept: The Washington DC health website has a special page on sex during the panic. On the page they list various sex acts and how they can spread the disease. Among their tips:

• Kissing can pass COVID-19. Consider not kissing anyone you do not know or who you are not sure has been isolated for 14 days.

• Rimming, or any sexual activity that involves putting the mouth on the butt/anus, might pass COVID-19. The virus has been found in feces.

• Condoms and dental dams may reduce contact with saliva or feces during oral or anal sex.

• masturbation is always safe sex.

Apparently, these guys don’t cruise the internet enough. You can read the whole cringeworthy report here. Masturbation ISN’T always safe sex.


 

--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.

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.

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.

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 Mykel's December 2018 Blog/Column "Appropriation"

You’re Still Wrong

Mykel’s Post MRR column
December 2018
or
CULTURAL APPROPRIATION

It’s hard to believe… I can’t believe it myself… but I type this at a tiny table in Mumbai, India… inside a… I can hardly type this… inside a… this is pain! Inside a Starbucks!

I hate the coffee. I hate the company. I hate the atmosphere… the customers. But it’s 97^o outside. I’ve been sitting... standing... walking... in the sun since 10:30AM… it’s now 2:11PM. I asked Google for the nearest coffee shop with AC and it gave me three or four within a couple miles… none of which responded to a tap of the DIRECTIONS button. The only name I could remember was STARBUCKS… so I plugged it into Google Maps and voila! Here I am… guilty and unpleasant for being here. But here just the same.

Starbucks prices in India are the same as in New York. 200+ rupees for an Ice Coffee Medium… I refuse to say Grande or Tall or whatever the fuck they call it. 200 rupees is about $3... big money for the local snake charmers. The baristas served it to me In a cup with my name... “Michle...” written on the outside.

There are mostly brown-skinned people here, but enough palefaces to make me feel totally creeped out. Few things can be as horrible as drinking coffee at a Starbucks in an Asian country where other white people also sit and drink. It’s embarassing... like a fart in an elevator.

I’ve been in India almost 2 weeks now. Except for the weather, lack of toilets, and spotty internet, it’s been pretty good to me. (You can read my adventures at: https://mykelsdiary.blogspot.com.) One of the reasons I came to the country is I love Indian food in New York and I want to see how the real thing compares. I won’t find the answer in Starbucks.

Also, I know Indian food, but I don’t know Indian punkrock. I’ve been waiting 40 years for an Indian band The Vindalosers to show up at CBGBs. It’s not gonna happen, I fear… for two reasons.

1. CBGBs is gone…. at least the punk rock club by that name is gone.

2. As far as I know (or any of my punk pals in India know) there never was an Indian band called The Vindalosers.

It’s yours for the taking. Feel free to appropriate it and use it as you like. You don’t even have to give me credit…. And that is what I want to talk about this month…

FLASH TO a long shot of a dusty prairie... roaming cattle… a single dilapidated building… maybe a bar. Johnny Cash sings off camera as a lone horse and cowboy enter from screen left… galloping across... a dustcloud forming alongside… then fading behind them.

Slowly pan in… follow the horse over the plains closing in behind… until we have a view of the tail and… from behind… a man in bluejeans, flannel shirt… and cowboy hat… sitting on the horse… The dust kicked up behind the animal slowly fades… hoofbeats change from galloping thuds to clop... clop... clop.

Pan out again. The horse is on a street… some suburban town… a middle class American town… white fences… rose gardens… suburban houses with a few faded, tattered, Hillary Clinton for President signs stuck in a few well-mowed front lawns.

As our cowboy rides down the street, two people come running from one of the houses. They wear black hoodies with a black scarves… burqa-like.… covering their faces. They shout at the passing cowboy. We hear the shouts over the hoofbeats.

“Fuck you! You fascist pig!”

“You think you’re a cowboy! You mock the Native American killers? You’re fetishizing the old west… The genocide of native people. You’re appropriating their culture and turning it against them!”

The pair picks up some rocks… some garbage… some things to throw… and throw they do…. the horse and rider gallop off toward a shopping mall.

“You’re culturally appropriating!” They scream…. and that brings me directly to the topic.

APPROPRIATION

First, let’s get the terms right.

There are two types of appropriation in the cultural sense. One is like the flu. If someone gets the flu from you… you still have it. The amount of flu is not fixed, but can be passed from waitress to bank president… with neither losing it as they give it away. This kind of appropriation takes from other cultures-- or takes from other languages-- but doesn’t TAKE IT AWAY.

When Burger King offered its “breakfast bagel” in New York, customers had their choice of ham, bacon or sausage. The chain appropriated a quintessentially Jewish food and made it as goy as you can get. In New York people objected… complained. Well, of course.

The offer didn’t last long in New York. But I hear it continues today in the South. I still have my bagels with lox and a shmear. Burger King did not take that away from me.

FLASH TO SCHOOL (I teach English to Japanese students) Ari shows up with a single thin chain around her neck. Dangling from the chain is a small rhinestone-studded cross.

“Oh,” I ask, “are you Catholic or some other kind?”

She frowns.

“Your necklace,” I say, pointing to the cross.

“Oh that,” she says, laughing, “I’m not Christian. I just like the design.”

My pal Sara told me she saw a Japanese student wearing Mogen David star earrings. She asked what synagogue she went to. 

The answer, of course, was “What’s a synagogue?”

My mogen-david Matzoh cover loses nothing because of her earrings.

Now, take Halloween… please!

Happily, this year I was in India for that horrible holiday. Few people celebrate it here. Next to Christmas and the related Santacon… Halloween is my least favorite holiday. It’s gotten worse… more restrictive… because of charges of Cultural Appropriation.

I’m a Navajo, not your Halloween costume.

Pagans are not witches.

Blackface is racist.

The X-men of cultural purity don’t get that if I wear a loin cloth and feathers, it does not damage Chief Waterwiggle’s ability to sit down with his tribe of REAL Indians and smoke a peacepipe any more than Burger King’s bagels damaged my ability to enjoy lox and cream cheese.

What’s left for Halloween? Vampires?, Superheroes? Bad parodies of Donald Trump? Glad I missed it.

In Oregon, two women who traveled extensively in Mexico… discovered a special way of making tacos… one never seen in the U.S. They learn the recipe and cooking method from the locals, They open a restaurant based on their culinary discovery. What happens?

You guessed it!

CULTURAL APPROPRIATION screamed the Twitter Twits… The owners STOLE the recipe from some poor Mexicans. Hegemony! Imperialism! The restaurant soon closed.

I’ll try to put it another way, Culture is not a car. If I steal your car, you don’t have it anymore… It’s not there for your use. If I copy your burrito, you can still make another using the same recipe.

But there IS a kind of appropriation similar to car stealing.

When homosexuals became Gay sometime in the 1970s, “Gay” still carried the meaning of happy, carefree, light-hearted. I never liked the term as a sexual one. And most of the homos I knew (and most that I know now) are as far from being GAY (in the original meaning) as a crowbar is from being a crow.

“Look at that guy, I wonder if he’s gay.” only has one meaning now… no matter how happy and carefree he is. The word is lost… stolen… taken away. And probably will never be returned. In 2018, you cannot have a gay old time without exchanging bodily fluids.

Then there’s anti-semite. A Semite is a person of Middle Eastern origin. Hebrew, Arabic and Aramaic (the language of Jesus… if you believe) are Semitic languages. Moroccans are Semites. Tunisians are Semites. Sephardic Jews are Semites. My Ukrainian grandfather was NOT a Semite.

But what happened? Somehow anti-Semitic came to mean anti-Jewish. All those other Semites were pushed aside. Jews-- whether Semitic or not-- took over the word and pushed aside its original meaning. In 2018 Palestinians can be “anti-Semitic,” and Jewish advocates for the Palestinian holocaust… well they’re just… er… something else.

FLASH TO NOW: I continue this blog in Delhi Airport… terminal 3. My flight for New York is set to leave in 13 hours. I can’t find an electrical socket, so my only choice is to write until the battery conks out. Around me are Indian-looking guys with tags around their necks. I guess they work at the airport. Across from me, a business-suited guy fiddles with his iPhone, stopping once or twice to adjust his black turban.

I clear my throat, trying to avoid the hacking cough that comes from 2 weeks in the most air-polluted section of the most air-polluted city in India… and I was staying with a chain smoker. My weak lung (the left one) wheezes on the inhale… coughs on the exhale. So much can happen between one paragraph and the next. Watch this:

Bang! I’ve returned to New York for a few days, then left by bus for a visit to relatives in South Carolina, I am now seated next to the bus toilet... the stink roughing up my still-frail lung…I chain suck one Fisherman’s Friend after the other. Any break makes a coughing fit loud enough to wake the neighbors.

This bus feels like India. I’m the only white guy… the way I like it. I know I’ll be jinxing it to write this… but although I’m overwhelmed with the smell of piss… there are no screaming babies.

I love the U.S. Southeast… except for the politics. The weather is usually nice. People are friendly. Best barbecue in America. Maybe I’ll stop in to Burger King for ham and cheese… on a bagel.

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]

-→INKED Dept: If you need another reason (other than the risk of God’s wrath) NOT to get a tattoo, the Electronic Frontier Foundation reports that agencies of the US government are working on a tattoo database. It both matches tattoos with the wearer and tries to figure out the political and ideological positions of various tattoo holders. Originally they used images from police files only, but have recently branched out to include Flickr… and, I bet, that’s only the beginning. Watch that Instagram of your latest. The FBI is watching it right now. 

Cultural Appropriation by People in That Culture dept: People Magazine, of all places, reports that model superstar Gigi Hadid (mother: Dutch, father: Palestinian) has been criticized for wearing a hajib in her picture on the debut cover of Vogue Arabia. Her critics say she has culturally appropriated the traditional Muslim scarf. Of course, since she is ½ Palestinian-- and a Muslim… it’s HER tradition! -- Maybe she should have worn have a burqa.

-------------------------

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
• I post a blog for Kyle Nonnemon, in prison for a ton of shit. He's a smart guy, with a passion for industrial metal and a general detestation of humankind. You can read his blog at:apothelema.blogspot.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-heavyblog... with music and books featured prominently.
• And my long-term pal Sid Yiddish contributes with his Mishegas Master Blog.

CONTACT REDUX: You can contact me on facebook or by email atgod@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. 

Mykel Scrapes His Sensitive Side Post MRR Column Number 6

by Mykel Board

YOU'RE STILL WRONG

POST MRR COLUMNS

by Mykel Board

A sense of humor is just common sense, dancing --William James

The most egregious onslaughts against the human spirit have always been perpetrated by the easily offended.– Jim Goad

DECEMBER 18, 2014: My knees rest on either side of her head... the calves close to her ears. I squat. Her Latina nose tickles my puckering sphincter. I wonder how she breathes. I lean forward. My tightening testes press against her lips. She sucks one in. Then the other. Now both, pushing her tongue up to lift and separate those golden globes in her mouth. I'm furiously pumping myself. My pig appearing and disappearing in its hand blanket. Soon... soon... now! NOW!

She can sense my coming release. I lift myself to switch. To have her finish off my petite pulsator. With my balls still in her mouth, I hear her try to speak.

“Izshit hoofan hee?” is what I make out.

“What?” I ask, holding back as best I can. “What did you say?”

“Izshit hoofan hee?” she repeats.

Uh oh, I'm either gonna cum all over her chin... or lose the urge. I gotta solve this problem quick. I lift my balls out of her mouth and ask again.

“Is it gluten free?” she asks.

I spew.

NOW: You know it. You can't have dinner with people anymore... unless you make it only water... filtered water. I don't eat meat. I don't eat carbohydrates. I can't take spicy food. No alcohol, it's bad for my pituitary. I'm cutting down on salt. Anything that comes from the ocean makes me break into hives. I'm allergic to peanuts. Ad nauseam.

People are sensitive to ANYTHING. Health consciousness has become so obsessive that almost any food has legions who can't eat that stuff. Picky eating has replaced joyful gluttony. We're so sensitive we can't enjoy anything, choosing our meals to avoid what we can't eat, rather than digging into what we love.

This new body sensitivity mirrors a MIND sensitivity. I was witness to the world's dumbest facebook discussion as one person asked another about about the birds in England.

“I am not a bird,” answered the offended receiver. “I am a woman.”

Of course, bird is simply the British version of chick... an avian word for female. (Or at least it was in the 60s.) It's as offensive as naval lint... or should be. But the huff and the puff around this post! Oy vey! It's hard to believe this is 2014. What the fuck happened?

I'll tell you.

After the opening and taboo-destroying 70s and 80s... a new, stronger, set of taboos has raced in to fill the void. Southern Christian parents warn their children against the F-word. While every New fuckin' Yorker uses that fuckin' word at least four fuckin' times in every fuckin' sentence. (My favorite NYC t-shirt: FUCK YOU! You fuckin' fuck!)

That looks like progress, at least here in America's largest city. But New fuckin' Yorkers are so squeamish... so sensitive about THE N-WORD for race, the C-WORD for gender, the H-WORD and the L-WORD for sex preference. Then there's the D-WORD. (It's medication, don't you know?)

A fellow teacher whispers to me in the teacher's lounge. “Mykel,” she says, “I can't believe that guy. He said the P-word... in class. I don't believe it. He's gonna get fired for that one.”

The P-word? What the fuck is the P-word? Piss? Paki? Pollack? Pedophile? Prairie Nigger? I can't imagine! I never heard of the P-word-- but I guess there's one for every letter.

My fellow Jews are notoriously thin-skinned. There's that famous scene in Annie Hall, where Woody Allen talks about how Jews see antisemitism in the most innocuous things.

When someone says “Did you eat yet?” Woody hears “Jew eat yet?” Jew? Jew? See? He's anti-Semitic!

Jews have even appropriated the word anti-Semitic which SHOULD mean against Semites. That is, all Arabs and about a third of the Jews. Now, it ONLY means JEWS... and if you object... why, you're ANTI-SEMITIC!

The Jewish Anti-Defamation League was the first. Jews are often the first to do things-- like invent the theory of relativity, Communism, and the atom bomb. Among religious or ethnic groups we are the most easily offended. The ADL website says “The goal is to develop industry standards that balance effective restrictions on antisemitism, hate, and bigotry with respect for the right to free speech.”

Sorry, buckaroos. You CAN'T balance restrictions on speech with the right to free speech. To quote my hero William O. Douglas about the first amendment: “No law (against free speech) means NO LAW, dammit.”

The Jewish Anti-Defamation League... now the plain old Anti-Defamation League is the modern version of 1950s McCarthyism. Seeing antisemitism under every bed, and in every dark corner... they extend the idea that anyone anti-Israel is anti-Semitic. Sound familiar? It should, that's what Israel itself says.

But the Jews are only the uncircumcised tip of the iceberg. Check it out! We've got: The Polish anti-defamation league, Christian anti-defamation league, African anti-defamation league, Hispanic anti- defamation league, Arab anti-defamation league, Gay and Lesbian anti-defamation league, who's left? Well what about the Cab driver anti-defamation league? I shit you not.

Maybe the nastiest of the anti-defamation groups is the Southern Poverty Law Center whose hate-watch division labels more than a thousand groups as hate groups. The implication is, we gotta get rid of these guys. Hate the haters. They preach intolerance. We can't tolerate that.

It's all about being offended... and some kind of right NOT to be so. First, let get something straight. The idea of FREE SPEECH means there is NO RIGHT not to be offended.

You can say you're offended. Tell people what offended you. You can just answer it. You don't stop it. Even if that censorship is legal, it's still WRONG!

But even to be offended these days!! It's like a gluten allergy. Are you really that sensitive?

I'm Jewish, short, old, bald, and slimly endowed. If someone calls me a short old bald pencil-dick Jew... they're right. I may feel somewhat embarrassed, but I won't be offended. One of my many proud moments is when Jim Goad called me an elfin heeb.

I am not uneducated, pimpled, shy or obsessively clean. If someone calls me a dumb bashful pizza-faced germaphobe, I'll laugh and ask, ”How does your colon look from the inside?” I won't be offended.

Of course, the TRUE epithet usually hurts more than the fantasy, but embarrassed or humored, that's part of life as a human. I don't need to be protected. And I'm not offended.

There are those who say, “Look, the first amendment is about laws. So if the government does it, it's bad. If CORPORATE AMERICA does it, it's good.” Often, these are the same folks who criticize the U.S. for being ruled by corporations. Wake up, CORPORATE AMERICA IS THE GOVERNMENT!

For these folks, if a radio network fires Imus for talking about nappy heads... it's not censorship. If Walmart forces Nirvana to change their lyrics... it's not censorship. If another radio network drops The Dixie Chicks for criticizing George Bush... it's not censorship. It's the free market. Wrong! It's the free market AND it's censorship.

It's not a violation of the constitution, but that doesn't make it any less censorship. When Walmart forced Nirvana to change their lyrics there was no way for those who wanted the original lyrics to hear them... and no way even to find out about them. Blocking information is censorship.

The marketplace can be a more vicious censor than the government. Usually, when the government censors something we know about it. Even in pre-Snowden times, there were trials against ULYSSES and TROPIC OF CANCER. They made the news. People could smuggle in the forbidden books... or at least know they were forbidden. With “free market” censorship, we have to rely on the free market. If you keep up on the issues or follow the National Coalition Against Censorship you might have an idea. But it takes more work than the average Leroy has time for.

It's not only the traditional minorities. Even those who it used to be OKAY to make fun of are now so sensitive that they fall for everything.

I'm not above it. Phil Robertson was “fired” from the Duck Dynasty for an interview in GQ Magazine. [Aside: GQ is the number one magazine for high fashion closet queens. It's not the place you'd expect a hillbilly to give an interview. That alone would have made a less sensitive guy suspicious.] I joined the outraged rage against freedom of speech.

“How could they fire someone for speaking his mind?” I asked, along with the sensitive rednecks outraged at the injustice. I posted on my facebook. Wrote about it in this column, my typing fingers shaking with indignity.

A facebook pal immediately answered that the whole thing was a trick... an A&E publicity stunt to solidify fan support.

“No way!” I said. “The network is just S-O-O-O-O SENSITIVE, that they'll cave in to the homo mafia.”

I was wrong. It was ME who was s-o-o-o sensitive.

In less than a week, Robertson was “rehired” and everything was hunky dory... with more publicity than thousands of paid commercials. It WAS a trick! Why was I such an idiot?

In the 60s and 70s ethnic humor WAS humor. The earliest I remember were the Polish Jokes: Q. Why can't they make ice cubes in Poland? A. They lost the recipe.

There were Jew jokes Q. How do you get 25 Jews into a Volkswagen? A. Throw in a quarter.

Negro jokes: A black woman was filling out forms at the welfare office. Under Number of children, she wrote 10 and where it said List names of children, she wrote Leroy. When she handed in the form, the woman behind the desk pointed out: "Now here where it says 'List names of children,' you're supposed to write the names of each of your children.” "Dey all named Leroy," said the black woman. "That's very unusual. When you call them, how do they know which one you want?" asked the welfare worker. "Oh, den I uses the last names."

Homo jokes: Q: What does one homo say to another who's going on vacation? A: Can I help you pack your shit?

Redneck jokes: You know you're a redneck if you stand under the mistletoe at Christmas and wait for Grandma and cousin Sue-Ellen to walk by.

WASP jokes: Q. How can you spot a WASP in the gym? A. He's the one who steps out of the shower to take a piss.

Everybody joked... and everybody was the butt of jokes. It was FUN. People laughed.

Now, Jimmy Kimmel joking about the Chinese gets protest marches-- and posters of himself with a Hitler mustache. I'd say the Chinese are almost as touchy as the Jews, but Israel one-ups them and makes it ILLEGAL to call anyone a Nazi (especially those in the Israeli government.) Give me a break. Loosen up!

ENDNOTES: [You can email me at god@mykelboard.com. For postal contact... 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. Just join the MYKEL'S READERS Yahoo group readmboard-subscribe@yahoogroups.com]

-->Old News Department: I've been cleaning out my virtual drawers and found this interesting article from the turn of the century:

On March 26 1999, the federal appeals court in Chicago upheld the Butthole Surfers' right to end a handshake deal with their former label, Touch and Go. The Buttholes, who signed to Capitol in 1991, sued the label to reclaim the six records and long-form video they made in the mid-80s.

Touch and Go operates on an honor system. They pay the bands 50 percent of the profit on their records--about four times the industry's standard royalty rate. In return, until recently, Touch and Go gets the right to press those records for as long as it can keep them on the market.

Now, however, as a result of the court's decision, Touch and Go and the dozens of labels that follow the same business model, face the possibility that their principles may cost them their back catalogs.

-->Slightly Newer dept: In 2012 California approved a horrible retributive ban on human sex trafficking. The bill was opposed by the California Peace and Freedom Party and the Harvey Milk LGBT Democratic Club. It was supported, of course, by the California Democratic and the California Republican Party.

Now, importing people for slave labor on farms and in the houses of rich people is fine, but if SEX is involved... my heavens! Eeeek!

The law seemed to target Johns, but it actually acts like the Arizona SHOW ME YOUR PAPERS LAW, making sex work harder for the undocumented. If your girl/boy is foreign, you could be a SEX TRAFFICKER! Better stay away.

One critic said: If Proposition 35 passes, anyone receiving financial support from normal, consensual prostitution among adults...could be prosecuted as a human trafficker, and if convicted, forced to register as a sex offender for life!"

It passed.

-->Keeping the pressure on: I want to thank reader George Metesky for suggesting a Bring Mykel Back concerted effort directed at Maximum Rock'n'Roll. He forwarded me an answer to a letter MRR printed where the editors excuse my firing not as censorship for content, but because I “refused to answer letters in the letters section.”

That is wrong. I only asked that I be allowed to say I don't LIKE to answer letters there, because I feel it's unfair to the letter-writer for the columnist to always get the last word. If they want me to answer there, I will. SO, here I'm publicly agreeing to abide by their rules. Here it is in ones and zeros. Their excuse for censoring me disappears.

I hope you'll cut and paste the paragraph above into an email, and send it-- along with your comments-- to mrr@maximumrocknroll.com with the subject line: BRING MYKEL BACK. Let me know how they answer.

-end-