Chalupa

http://allmusic.com/cg/amg.dll?p=amg&sql=10:dpfuxq9rldte Didn't one of the CT boxes have defect? I seem to remember there being some discussion about it.

Whenever I see something on tv that I find offensive I just turn the channel. I've found that turning the channel is a lot easier than returning a tv.

10K

Knicks owe $45 Million in luxury tax. http://sports.espn.go.com/nba/news/story?id=2935728 Ha ha.

If the first link doesn't work try this.... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tcEqerCrr3Y

http://www.videosift.com/video/Letterman-d...reminds-him-of- (this may take 10 seconds or so to load)

One of the bloggers at C#9 had this to say about the show..... There had been speculation in some quarters about whether oxley would play his customary percussion solo, thus offering the spectacle of taylor and braxton standing around twiddling their thumbs (or more likely wandering on and off), so there must have been a few sinking hearts when the lights went down and oxley shuffled slowly onstage alone - though he wasn't quite alone, since ct's disembodied voice floated over the p.a. by way of accompaniment... and then the man himself was there too, dancing rather hesitantly to the piano. taylor and oxley began to duet. i must admit to being pretty distracted at this point - loose plans to meet up with a couple of people hadn't come off, i knew that i had to leave immediately after the concert and was torn between agitatedly checking the time, wondering how long i was going to have to wait for my main man mr b to take the stage, and delighting in the chance to see taylor work the keyboard (something i didn't really get the chance to do when i saw him in 2004)... i kept flipping between the two moods, but basically got more and more impatient as the duet went on. ct turned over his sheet music after five minutes or so, and a new set of materials was joined; after about fifteen minutes total, he turned again, didn't like what he found and left everyone (including oxley) dangling while he flicked back and forth through his papers until finally he found something which suited his mood... by this time i was having serious trouble staying still in my seat, i have to confess. but i paid enough attention to enjoy the view into taylor's playing; oxley, if i'm honest, seemed at times to be on autopilot, or suspiciously close to it: for much of the duet sequence (three explorations totalling maybe 20-25 mins) he looked to be playing with his wrists alone, and although he responded very quickly to ct's ideas, even this could be automatic for a musician of oxley's advanced skills and vast experience: i'm not convinced he was truly interacting, but then i was not really in the best frame of mind to judge. finally the two left the stage to lots of hearty applause... ...and william parker ambled on... ...and began to play a solo. part of me wanted to start tearing out hair at this point... awful visions of a set consisting entirely of solos and duets, culminating in the four joining up for a rip through "donna lee" at the end, began forming in my overheated brain... every few moments i would force my attention back to parker's highly-energetic performance, enjoying the chance to watch this master at work (of the four, parker was the only player i had not seen live before) - hell, i love bass solos, i even have a few solo bass albums, including parker's (c/o inconstant sol)... but the FRUSTRATION... ... and then the relief when parker's applause was over and all four players took the stage ) i almost passed out. what followed was well and truly worth the wait. as parker got ready, some electronics were audible - i never did find out who was controlling these, but i suppose it was parker - not intrusively audible, just there, creating the bottom layer of a foundation on which the four immediately began to build. it was as if they all just said fuck it, we're going for it, and in order to let things happen, they promptly began whipping up an instant storm of far-out sounds, a maelstrom out of which all kinds of things might suddenly appear: oxley played immediately with more physical engagement, parker began at once to attack his bass with two bows, taylor started to play the strings inside the piano... and braxton started out on contrabass clarinet, which made my trip for me right there and then - i had never expected to see and hear him play this beast live..! you must understand that some of the actual music played was a bit of a blur (despite my now being fully focussed on it) - i knew it was being recorded for broadcast so was happy to immerse myself in the performance without trying to take in all the details of the music, which (inevitably) were many - i had the luxury of knowing that i will be able to revisit the sounds as often as i like, and will be able to match them up with the images in my memory. braxton changed to the smaller horns in due course, returning more than once to sopranino, and with one brief exception (where his alto was more or less drowned out for some time), everything he played cut cleanly through... the storm abated, and was then summoned again... taylor seemed delighted to be playing (in stark contrast to 2004, when - having to follow braxton's stunning quintet set - he had seemed introverted and sulky); and here is the alchemy, the magic, because although none of the four did anything i haven't heard before, together they created something quite wonderful. the rapturous applause at the end was as genuine as taylor's handshake with braxton: that was something special. we wanted more... we asked for it, we waited for it, but we weren't gonna get it and i made a sharp exit as soon as the lights came up. BUT i can honestly say that the images of the performance will remain vivid for a long time! glad i went? worth the build-up? oh yes, and the rest... i'm already impatient to hear the music again...

Lucid tentacles test 'n sleeved 'n joined 'n jointed jade pointed Diamond back patterns Neon meate dream of a octafish Artifact on rose petals 'n flesh petals 'n pots Fack 'n feast 'n tubes tubs bulbs In jest incest injest injust in feast incest 'n specks 'n speckled speckled Speckled speculation Fedlocks waddlin' feast Archaic faces frenzy Ceramic fists artificial deceased 'n cists rancid buds burst Dank drum 'n dung dust Meate rose 'n hairs Meaty meate rose 'n hairs Meaty dream wet meate Limp damp rows Peeled 'n felt fields 'n belts Impaled on 'n daeman Mucus mules Twot trot tra la tra la Tra la tra la tra la Whale bone fields 'n belts Whale bone farmhouse Cavorts girdled 'n latters uh lite Cavorts girdled 'n latters uh lite Uh dipped amidst Squirmin' serum 'n semen 'n syrup 'n semen 'n serum Stirrupped in syrup Neon meate dream of a octafish

9,999.

This thread about the deaths of Jefferson and Adams reminds me of some strange coincidences between two other presidents - Lincoln and JFK. Abraham Lincoln was elected to Congress in 1846. John F. Kennedy was elected to Congress in 1946. Abraham Lincoln was elected President in 1860. John F. Kennedy was elected President in 1960. Both were particularly concerned with civil rights. Both wives lost their children while living in the White House. Both Presidents were shot on a Friday. Both Presidents were shot in the head. Now it gets really weird. Lincoln's secretary was named Kennedy. Kennedy's Secretary was named Lincoln. Both were assassinated by Southerners. Both were succeeded by Southerners named Johnson. Andrew Johnson, who succeeded Lincoln, was born in 1808. Lyndon Johnson, who succeeded Kennedy, was born in 1908. John Wilkes Booth, who assassinated Lincoln, was born in 1839. Lee Harvey Oswald, who assassinated Kennedy, was born in 1939. Both assassins were known by their three names. Both names are composed of fifteen letters. Now hang on to your seat. Lincoln was shot at the theater named 'Ford.' Kennedy was shot in a car called 'Lincoln' made by 'Ford.' Lincoln was shot in a theater and his assassin ran and hid in a warehouse. Kennedy was shot from a warehouse and his assassin ran and hid in a theater. Booth and Oswald were assassinated before their trials. And here's the kicker... A week before Lincoln was shot, he was in Monroe, Maryland A week before Kennedy was shot, he was with Marilyn Monroe.

Oh that's easy - Summer of '67. Random sex, life-destroying drugs, and mostly soulless rock music.

Came to talk about the draft. They got a building down New York City, it's called Whitehall Street, where you walk in, you get injected, inspected, detected, infected, neglected and selected. I went down to get my physical examination one day, and I walked in, I sat down, got good and drunk the night before, so I looked and felt my best when I went in that morning. `Cause I wanted to look like the all-American kid from New York City, man I wanted, I wanted to feel like the all-, I wanted to be the all American kid from New York, and I walked in, sat down, I was hung down, brung down, hung up, and all kinds o' mean nasty ugly things. And I waked in and sat down and they gave me a piece of paper, said, "Kid, see the phsychiatrist, room 604." And I went up there, I said, "Shrink, I want to kill. I mean, I wanna, I wanna kill. Kill. I wanna, I wanna see, I wanna see blood and gore and guts and veins in my teeth. Eat dead burnt bodies. I mean kill, Kill, KILL, KILL." And I started jumpin up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL," and he started jumpin up and down with me and we was both jumping up and down yelling, "KILL, KILL." And the sargent came over, pinned a medal on me, sent me down the hall, said, "You're our boy." Didn't feel too good about it. Proceeded on down the hall gettin more injections, inspections, detections, neglections and all kinds of stuff that they was doin' to me at the thing there, and I was there for two hours, three hours, four hours, I was there for a long time going through all kinds of mean nasty ugly things and I was just having a tough time there, and they was inspecting, injecting every single part of me, and they was leaving no part untouched. Proceeded through, and when I finally came to the see the last man, I walked in, walked in sat down after a whole big thing there, and I walked up and said, "What do you want?" He said, "Kid, we only got one question. Have you ever been arrested?" And I proceeded to tell him the story of the Alice's Restaurant Massacre, with full orchestration and five part harmony and stuff like that and all the phenome... - and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, did you ever go to court?" And I proceeded to tell him the story of the twenty seven eight-by-ten colour glossy pictures with the circles and arrows and the paragraph on the back of each one, and he stopped me right there and said, "Kid, I want you to go and sit down on that bench that says Group W .... NOW kid!!" And I, I walked over to the, to the bench there, and there is, Group W's where they put you if you may not be moral enough to join the army after committing your special crime, and there was all kinds of mean nasty ugly looking people on the bench there. Mother rapers. Father stabbers. Father rapers! Father rapers sitting right there on the bench next to me! And they was mean and nasty and ugly and horrible crime-type guys sitting on the bench next to me. And the meanest, ugliest, nastiest one, the meanest father raper of them all, was coming over to me and he was mean 'n' ugly 'n' nasty 'n' horrible and all kind of things and he sat down next to me and said, "Kid, whad'ya get?" I said, "I didn't get nothing, I had to pay $50 and pick up the garbage." He said, "What were you arrested for, kid?" And I said, "Littering." And they all moved away from me on the bench there, and the hairy eyeball and all kinds of mean nasty things, till I said, "And creating a nuisance." And they all came back, shook my hand, and we had a great time on the bench, talkin about crime, mother stabbing, father raping, all kinds of groovy things that we was talking about on the bench. And everything was fine, we was smoking cigarettes and all kinds of things, until the Sargeant came over, had some paper in his hand, held it up and said. "Kids, this-piece-of-paper's-got-47-words-37-sentences-58-words-we-wanna- know-details-of-the-crime-time-of-the-crime-and-any-other-kind-of-thing- you-gotta-say-pertaining-to-and-about-the-crime-I-want-to-know-arresting- officer's-name-and-any-other-kind-of-thing-you-gotta-say", and talked for forty-five minutes and nobody understood a word that he said, but we had fun filling out the forms and playing with the pencils on the bench there, and I filled out the massacre with the four part harmony, and wrote it down there, just like it was, and everything was fine and I put down the pencil, and I turned over the piece of paper, and there, there on the other side, in the middle of the other side, away from everything else on the other side, in parentheses, capital letters, quotated, read the following words: ("KID, HAVE YOU REHABILITATED YOURSELF?") I went over to the sargent, said, "Sargeant, you got a lot a damn gall to ask me if I've rehabilitated myself, I mean, I mean, I mean that just, I'm sittin' here on the bench, I mean I'm sittin here on the Group W bench 'cause you want to know if I'm moral enough join the army, burn women, kids, houses and villages after bein' a litterbug." He looked at me and said, "Kid, we don't like your kind, and we're gonna send you fingerprints off to Washington." And friends, somewhere in Washington enshrined in some little folder, is a study in black and white of my fingerprints. And the only reason I'm singing you this song now is cause you may know somebody in a similar situation, or you may be in a similar situation, and if your in a situation like that there's only one thing you can do and that's walk into the shrink wherever you are ,just walk in say "Shrink, You can get anything you want, at Alice's restaurant.". And walk out. You know, if one person, just one person does it they may think he's really sick and they won't take him. And if two people, two people do it, in harmony, they may think they're both faggots and they won't take either of them. And three people do it, three, can you imagine, three people walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. They may think it's an organization. And can you, can you imagine fifty people a day,I said fifty people a day walking in singin a bar of Alice's Restaurant and walking out. And friends they may thinks it's a movement. And that's what it is , the Alice's Restaurant Anti-Massacre Movement, and all you got to do to join is sing it the next time it come's around on the guitar. With feeling. So we'll wait for it to come around on the guitar, here and sing it when it does. Here it comes. You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant Walk right in it's around the back Just a half a mile from the railroad track You can get anything you want, at Alice's Restaurant

Holy crap!! Take a look at the cover of Ted's new album......

Oh and get a haircut, hippie!

Poor Teddy. It sounds like he needs to do a couple of bong hits and chill.

The Summer of Drugs Forty years ago, dirty, stinky hippies converged on San Francisco to "turn on, tune in and drop out." BY TED NUGENT Wednesday, July 4, 2007 12:01 a.m. EDT This summer marks the 40th anniversary of the so-called Summer of Love. Honest and intelligent people will remember it for what it really was: the Summer of Drugs. Forty years ago hordes of stoned, dirty, stinky hippies converged on San Francisco to "turn on, tune in, and drop out," which was the calling card of LSD proponent Timothy Leary. Turned off by the work ethic and productive American Dream values of their parents, hippies instead opted for a cowardly, irresponsible lifestyle of random sex, life-destroying drugs and mostly soulless rock music that flourished in San Francisco. The Summer of Drugs climaxed with the Monterey Pop Festival which included some truly virtuoso musical talents such as Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin, both of whom would be dead a couple of years later due to drug abuse. Other musical geniuses such as Jim Morrison and Mama Cass would also be dead due to drugs within a few short years. The bodies of chemical-infested, brain-dead liberal deniers continue to stack up like cordwood. As a diehard musician, I terribly miss these very talented people who squandered God' s gifts in favor of poison and the joke of hipness. I often wonder what musical peaks they could have climbed had they not gagged to death on their own vomit. Their choice of dope over quality of life, musical talent and meaningful relationships with loved ones can only be categorized as despicably selfish. I literally had to step over stoned, drooling fans, band mates, concert promoters and staff to pursue my musical American Dream throughout the 1960s and 1970s. I flushed more dope and cocaine down backstage toilets than I care to remember. In utter frustration I was even forced to punch my way through violent dopers on occasion. So much for peace and love. The DEA should make me an honorary officer. I was forced to fire band members and business associates due to mindless, dangerous, illegal drug use. Clean and sober for 59 years, I am still rocking my brains out and approaching my 6,000th concert. Clean and sober is the real party. Young people make mistakes. I've made my share, but none that involved placing my life or the lives of others at risk because of dope. I saw first-hand too many destroyed lives and wrecked families to ever want to drool and vomit on myself and call that a good time. I put my heart and soul into creating the best music I possibly could and I went hunting instead. My dream continues with ferocity, thank you. The 1960s, a generation that wanted to hold hands, give peace a chance, smoke dope and change the world, changed it all right: for the worse. America is still suffering the horrible consequences of hippies who thought utopia could be found in joints and intentional disconnect. A quick study of social statistics before and after the 1960s is quite telling. The rising rates of divorce, high school drop outs, drug use, abortion, sexual diseases and crime, not to mention the exponential expansion of government and taxes, is dramatic. The "if it feels good, do it" lifestyle born of the 1960s has proved to be destructive and deadly. So now, 40 years later, there are actually people who want to celebrate the anniversary of the Summer of Drugs. Hippies are once again descending on ultra-liberal San Francisco--a city that once wanted to give shopping carts to the homeless--to celebrate and try to remember their dopey days of youth when so many of their musical heroes and friends long ago assumed room temperature by "partying" themselves to death. Nice. While I salute and commend the political and cultural activism of the 1960s that fueled the civil rights movement, other than that, the decade is barren of any positive cultural or social impact. Honest people will remember 1967 for what is truly was. There is a saying that if you can remember the 1960s, you were not there. I was there and remember the decade in vivid, ugly detail. I remember its toxic underbelly excess because I was caught in the vortex of the music revolution that was sweeping the country, and because my radar was fine-tuned thanks to a clean and sober lifestyle. Death due to drugs and the social carnage heaped upon America by hippies is nothing to celebrate. That is a fool's game, but it is quite apparent some burned-out hippies never learn. Mr. Nugent is a rock star releasing his 35th album, "Love Grenade," this summer. http://www.opinionjournal.com/extra/?id=110010291

Just think if they could have dropped 10k on the 4th of July. Would have ranked up there with Tim McCarver's "grand slam" double on the bicentennial. Huh???? I am far to young to remember Tim McCarver as Steve Carlton's personal catcher, and playing with the Phillies....but, anyway, I still don't know what you are talking about! Actually it was a "grand slam" single. It was a game winning HR but he passed Gary Maddux on the basepath (Phils still won as McCarver's run wasn't needed for victory.) When asked how he could have let that happen he said "sheer speed." That's friggin' hilarious. The local papers have been running "infamous losses" type stories lately but I haven't heard about that one before.

9,997.

It looks amazing. Thanks.

9,996.

Might well close down the board. No one is going to top this post. Ever.

http://www.philly.com/philly/travel/visito...zz____more.html

http://www.philly.com/philly/travel/visito...zz____more.html

Klosterman = Accurately rated.

9,991.