Saturday, January 27, 2007


...that it had been well over a month since Doc 40 had run anything approaching what some girl somewhat disparagingly refers to as cheesecake, and so, to rectify the ommission, here is a genuine vinage Vargas. In addition, the blue eyed white longhair in the picture has a separate symbolic significance since right now am coping with a feline crisis that answers somewhat the same description and -- having only the cat and not the half-dressed narcissistic blonde -- I am hoping that some kharmic mojo can be invoked to ensure a favorable outcome to the situation. This may not be what readers expect from me, but...
The secret word is Distraction
CRYPTIQUE -- How many more bloody weekends?

Thursday, January 25, 2007


You might wonder why I’m devoting so much time to a forty year-old plastic toy when the world is beset by war, famine, pestilence, death*, the White House and the fact that Tom Cruise may be the Scientology Messiah. I might respond with a curt “how the fuck should I know” (I freely admit I’m in the foulest of foul moods – what Churchill called “the black dog”) except it would seem that, after I mentioned the damned thing last week, (see Jan 17th) a whole debate broke out on Live Journal. (The above was lifted from ortho bob, and it costs $102.50 on eBay, and that’s only for the box.)
* possibly mine

Or maybe it’s just that the above was The Child Our Parents Wanted Us To Be.

Meanwhile being deprived of rock & roll adulation still festers. The following was posted on the blog of Urbanmutation, who has exactly the opinion we should value…

Last night should have been the reunion gig of the Kings of Oblivion line-up of the Pink fairies at the Roundhouse in London. Unfortunately, Larry Wallis buggered his back up (that’s the official reason at least) and so the gig had to be shelved. It was an especially bad blow as Mick Farren had been booked to come over and do a few numbers. So if the gig had gone ahead it may have been of mythic stature, the kind of gig that people talk about for years to come.”

And just to prove that I am really freefalling, I have written a lively defense of Fox and 24 in this week’s LA CityBeat.

The secret French word is Merde
CRYPTIQUERage or depression? It’s a buck dancer’s choice, my friend.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007


In my travels I happened across this picture from long, long, long, long, long ago when Keith Richards meant something more than Johnny Depp’s dad and $450 for a concert ticket. Those were the days, my friends, when a generation of junkies had a reliable role model, and could circulate titillating rumors of mysterious Swiss clinics, and one was dicked around at airports by the war on narco-terrorism rather than on Islamo-fascism. Meanwhile, just yesterday…


The President of the United States managed to read an hour-long speech without stumbling over the words, and the punditing heads on my TV treated it as though he cured AIDS and explained String Theory while walking on water. And if I didn’t think the buzz saw of justice might be moving closer to the bald head of Dick Cheney, I’d probably skip this century and move on to the next where people might be waiting for me.

The secret word is Ambien

CRYPTIQUEI don’t feel so well.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007



I suppose it was kinda inevitable that I spent a goodly part of the day just passed wondering why the hell I wasn’t on stage as advertised at the Roundhouse in London, and reflecting (with a measure of suitably narcissistic self-pity) the close to absurdist sequence of events that had conspired to transform this unique opportunity to close what would have been a nearly lifelong circle into an embarrassingly pear-shaped debacle, and pondering what possible ways might be found to restore collective credibility and attempt some kind of substitute rematch, because, having had a whiff of the possible fun and frolic, I would sure like to pull off some modestly spectacular performance in the old country before this year is out. (pic by yukiko akagawa)

The secret word is Determination

Meanwhile the excellent Valerie sends a report from the BBC about how the poppies are blooming in Afghanistan, but the collective prejudice of multiple governments continue to prevent anything useful being done with the potential opium crop.


Supplied by some girl (I hope this isn't too small for some computers.)