Thursday, September 01, 2022

HIJACKED! or You're STILL Wrong Mykel's Sept. 2022 Blog

  

HIJACKED!
or You're STILL Wrong,
Mykel's September 2022 Blog

by Mykel Board

One of the greatest tragedies in mankind’s entire history may be that morality was hijacked by religion. --Arthur C. Clark

A triumph of consciousness-raising has been the homosexual hijacking of the word 'gay.' – Richard Dawkins

The world is beset by many problems, but in my opinion, this hijacking of our brain's reward centers by electronic media is potentially one of the most destructive. -- Andrew Weil

...

I lay naked on the hard wood table… wrists and ankles roped and tied to its legs. Next to the table, standing unbound, is a very unattractive woman. Surrounded by several young men in army camouflage. The woman is white… bad teeth… most body hair I’ve ever seen on a woman… monobrow, with a masculine branching hairline from pubes to pupik. Her face looks like a mass of plastic surgery gone wrong. Skin stretched Joker-face like on the mouth, neck and cheeks. Her nose bears tiny scars up and down both sides… more than a normal nosejob... like it had been completely detached and then sewn back on.

This is the woman who now reaches between my legs, grabs my limpness, and rubs it back and forth between her thumb and index finger. Then, she leans over me and flips my flaccidity with her tongue. Then she sucks it in using her tongue to push it against the roof of her mouth.

Wass gonggngng konger?” I ask.

One of the men walks up and loosens the gag around mouth.

Could you repeat that?” He asks.

I try to talk around the loose piece of leather – now less taut– in my mouth.

What’s going on?” I ask. “Who are you? Why are you doing this to me?”

We’re from Grenomia,” says the man. “This is our queen. She was deposed in a CIA sponsored coup. She’s in hiding now. She needs more than food and housing. She needs pleasure. That’s why we’re hijacking your dick.”

That’s what I want to talk about… Hijacking. Not dick hijacking, but language hijacking. The quote at the start of this blog is from famous atheist Richard Dawkins. He remarks on the first case of language hijacking I’m aware of.

In 1957, Leonard Bernstein wrote a song for Maria, a character in West Side Story. “I feel pretty. Oh, so pretty. So pretty and witty and gay…”

In 1957 the word GAY meant happy or carefree. Fast forward to 1988… Etymology class at NYU: today’s topic: language change, Professor John Costello.

In Middle English, the word pratie, meant cunning, crafty or sly. When it evolved to the word pretty, the meaning slowly changed to “very.” We can still see the old meaning very in expressions like “pretty good.” The more recent meaning “nice looking,” came about a hundred years later. The meaning sly, or cunning has been completely lost.”

I feel pretty. Oh so pretty. So pretty and witty and gay… I sing from my seat almost exactly in the middle of the classroom.

Prof. Costello laughs.

Yeah, there’s another one,” he says, “much more recent. Up until the 1960s “gay” only meant happy. Now it means homosexual, and I expect it won’t be long before the original meaning is completely lost.

In my 1980s mind, I love that homosexuals have hijacked GAY. It counters the desperate, depressed, sad, sick image of homosexuals of the previous decades. And gay girls too! Wow! That’s something I’d like to see.

That joy has since died… along with the wonderful word GAY… now reduced to a G in an ever-growing alphabet of letters standing for things most people don’t have a clue about. LGBTQIAFKU….

Homosexuals seem to be the masters of linguistic hijacking. After taking (and losing) GAY, they’ve managed to hijack the rainbow. Who could imagine? Such a beautiful sign, the color of all light, but wear it on a shirt or handkerchief… or anything these days and watch how quick you’re ejected from the nearest country and western bar.

But banks, department stores, and cereal companies show rainbow flags. THE BOYS TV show has a parody with PRIDE (rainbow logo) toothpaste and rainbow PRIDE candy bars. I wonder how long the parody will remain a parody. THE NATION, one of my favorite publications ran this story in June.


Short linguistic aside: English has borrowed the word futon from Japanese. In Japanese, the word means a soft, thin, foldable surface, something between a thick quilt and a yoga mat. In English it means a thick mattress that has no springs. Similarly, the Japanese have borrowed the English word claim, but use it where we would use complain.

There’s a difference, however, between borrowing a word and hijacking it. The word FILE was borrowed from a metal cabinet with sliding doors and manila folders inside. It was borrowed for computer use, meaning a self-contained unit on a computer. This didn’t stop people using it with the metal drawers. Likewise, the Japanese
claim, and the English futon, do not prevent the original speakers from using it in the original way.

On the other hand, take WOKE. A word that had the meaning of awake… and expanded to mean “aware in general”… but more specifically about racial and political ideas. It was a useful word, especially when commenting on someone who suddenly understands something new.

Take me! I have a WOKE moment when I hear the story of how Miles Davis was stopped by the cops when he was driving his Lamborghini down the highway.

I stopped you because you didn’t fit the car,” the cops told him.

BOING!

That could never happen to me. Suddenly I’m aware that people are not snowflakes… each as different from the other as one snowflake is from another. There is really a black experience, and it’s something I can never know unless someone tells me. Of course, things are different for each person, but race, age, national groups have a common experience that you can only hear about and never experience for yourself. I’m suddenly WOKE.

One of my Japanese students tells me that a guy in Penn Station threw a can of soda at her, shouting “Go back to China, Typhoid Mary!” That would never happen to me, but could happen to several others among my friends or anyone else who looks Oriental.

WOKE was the idea of sudden awareness, and it was a great concept… until it was hijacked. I guess someone on the right realized that Politically Correct was old fashioned… even the president didn’t use it anymore. So okay, they’ll use WOKE with the same meaning as Politically Correct (a term which, itself, was hijacked from lefties who originally used it to refer to other lefties who strictly followed the Old Marxist line).

Now, the definition according to the Urban Dictionary is:





Just as in 2022, no one would ever seriously say I’m Politically Correct no one will claim they’re woke. Another useful… even joyous term… like GAY used to be... is gone to the scrapheap.

Even Johnny Rotten is getting on the hijack bus. In a UK Times interview about American politics, Rotten said “You have a Democrat party that doesn’t respect anything but the latest woke fashion trend and that’s to the destruction of America.”

Nothing like woke fashion to destroy a country, right?

But wait! There’s more!

Another one of my favorites… hijacked by the Politic… er… woke folks... is the word HATE! I’ve seen more hate at a Red Sox-Yankees game than I have at a Klan march. Carrying a tiki-torch is supposed to be hate. But antifa slugging some defenseless guy on the street isn’t. That’s HATE hijacked.

Hate is my feeling toward broccoli or toward my prostate at 4AM. Hate is not the spray-painting of a twisted cross on a synagogue wall. The former is a feeling of anger and the urge to destroy. The latter is a teenage prank not much different than students drawing a sex-filled caricature of their teacher on the whiteboard when her back is turned.

Worse, of course, is that the feeling, usually expressed in nothing more than an epithet… no worse than FUCK YOU... will legally turn graffiti into a felony. In the case of a Queens synagogue, it has.

I gotta admit though, sometimes I wish I could hijack some words. SHEEPLE, for example, is just a great word. It expresses, in seven letters, a litany of conformity, unreasoning fear, unthinking following. It could be so useful in describing so many people.

But look what happened. The conspiracists, the right-wing loonies, have taken the word and destroyed it. Check out the Urban Dictionary on what it’s become.








Much of this hijacking is done on facebook… could be twitter too… I’m not there very often. Social networks are the wrist straps and ankle straps holding me down while some ugly girl hijacks my penis.

I say Trump did a good thing keeping us out of war… and I’m a TRUMPIST. I don’t condemn someone who makes a Jewish nose joke, I’m a Nazi.

Then there are the co-opters. The capitalist absorbers who can take anything and turn it into a commodity. That homosexual who stopped being “gay” because the idea was hijacked by corporate America was only the foreskin of the corporate penis. Punkrock in TV commercials. Interracial couples selling bedsheets. Two young men bonding over breakfast cereal. All hijacked and used to SELL.

LIBERTARIAN, once a kind of anarchist who believed in maximum civil liberties and individual rights. Now it’s become a word to mean rule by wealth. Even POPULIST, once a noble term describing politicos who disdain the moneyed and put PEOPLE first, now describes politicians who are racist, egocentric, and pandering.

Well, this here socialist libertarian populist will continue his fight against the sheeple. I can’t imagine that I’ll ever be a market segment. What the fuck are they going to sell me? And sorry, my dick belongs to me. You can borrow it, but you can’t hijack it.

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]

Unforeseen coincidence, dept: This from THE WEEK magazine. Seems like gayitude hijacked not only the rainbow… but anything that looks like a rainbow:












It’s a respectable job dept: Fox News reports that a Houston mother turned to Child Protective Services for help with her 14-year-old daughter, who had been running away and getting into trouble at school. Her daughter told her that a "worker had been telling her she should become a prostitute." The girl videoed the CPS staff member. Mom filed an official complaint, with the commissioner in Texas. The worker was dismissed.

Speaking of dicks dept: The World News Daily tells us that FBI agents made an astonishing discovery while executing a search warrant at the residence of a Houston mortician: 3,178 embalmed human penises. It seems the organs were cut off of the corpses and kept for later transplant sales. I think they should have been made into punk jewelry. Can’t you just see this New Wave girl with one hanging from her earlobe?

See you in hell, redux,

MB

NEW THIS MONTH

I’m a long-time subscriber to the The Nation. It’s the only lefty publication that I find myself not only agreeing with, but also finding inspiration from. There are two articles in the current issue I’d like to recommend herel Strangely, when I post this stuff on facebook, no one looks at it. My “friends” would just rather call me a “Trumpist” or a “Republican” for all the times I don’t follow the party line.

One
article is an editorial about how the Democrats are becoming the party of the Upper Middle Class, while the Republicans pick up the workers.. The other is about that dumb January 6th show trial and how it does nothing in real time, except boost Donny Trump’s voter base. Both articles are highly recommended.

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.

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


Monday, August 01, 2022

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.

T
here’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


BOING! or Mykel's December 2024 Blog: YOU'RE STILL WRONG

  BOING! or Mykel's December 2024 Blog: YOU'RE STILL WRONG You’re STILL Wrong Mykel's December 2024 Blog/Column BOING! ...