(second block, fourth letter of the prisoners' quadratic tap code...)

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...am here to tap through the walls.



Wed Mar, 17 2004

Derelicts

Go read this. I watched the viddie this morning on MSNBC. I'm convinced.

I didn't need it to convince me of something that I've always known, however, which is what a cowardly rotten punk was that dirt-bomb president from Arkansas. This is a creep who took a blind pot-shot with two hundred million dollars worth of cruise missiles in August of 1998 for no other reason but to stave off complete collapse of his administration. He didn't hesitate to blow up someone else's private property in Khartoum -- and kill innocents while he was at it -- but a former CIA station chief informs us that the standing order was to take bin Laden alive.

"NBC News contacted the three top Clinton national security officials. None would do an on-camera interview. However, they vigorously defend their record and say they disrupted terrorist cells and made al-Qaida a top national security priority."
They were looking right at him in real time, and these punks couldn't get it up to just ice the bastard and have done with it. They wanted to "bring him to justice". I submit that they would not know "justice" if it chased them around for the rest of their worthless lives.

...which it should. They stood in positions of responsibility, and they were manifestly irresponsible to their duties. Given the implications and consequences, it doesn't get much worse than that.

"Pigs And Other Animals"

Over two weeks ago, Claire Wolf linked to this story about a 17 year-old who died as a result of a burst appendix in a Miami juvenile "facility".

Can you imagine what that must have been like? It took that kid two days to die, all while his captors flat did not give a shit in the world.

I'd seen that story several days earlier. It got trampled underfoot around here, but it reinforced something that I've known for twenty years, from experience, which is this: without spending at least one night in jail some time in one's life, it is quite impossible to fully understand American politics, now.

The basic reason is because of how quickly and clearly the experience illuminates all the lies on which just about all of political "discussion" (you should excuse the word) is premised. Of course, the thing works best on a political violation. All of mine were while I was running straight at DMV law with more energy than money, and the last dregs of naive confidence in the probity of law founded on the constitution. Believe me: I had all that beaten out me, soon enough.

It was bad enough: what happened to Omar Paisley. Again: try to imagine trying to imagine what's happening to you over two days of appendicular septicemia.

And then, try to imagine taking two months to starve to death in a California state prison.

Here's what: it makes no difference to me that the man was convicted of child molestation. If they were going to kill him, they should have said so in open court.

(The title of this post taken from the title of a very good book on the general subject of incarceration written by a man who did time on the staff of the Orange County, California, jail, and which I might describe someday.)

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AxeBites

Various guitars I see floating by, mostly Gibson and mostly eBay.


Early Norlin ES-335 -- 1970, in Walnut ("ES-335TDW"). This is a period-piece look and feel, and arguably the sound as well but that's to cut things very finely. A "classic" 335 would be the original of 1958 in the Sunburst or Natural finish, or the Cherry Red of 1959; the Walnut of 1970 (second year of that finish offering) is not really a "classic" 335. In the history of the Gibson aesthetic, this is analogous to, say, vertically-striped polyester bell-bottoms or Bahama Blue shag carpeting. None of this is to say that they're not cool guitars, and this is a nice one. Excellent photographs.

Chrome hardware, featuring the trapeze tailpiece (like my L-47 and I've always liked it) and ABR-1 bridge with period-typical nylon saddles. Bound rosewood fretboard, with small block markers, and then the crown inlay at the machine head. These would be the T-top Humbuckers. Vintage Nazis would moan that the upper bouts are pointy (the body templates were wearing-out in the factory) and the fourteen-degree machine head with the volute signals a sometimes not-fun era of the line, but these things really do rock or moan or whatever you want a 335-type semi-hollow to do. ...which, of course, is because it really is a 335.


In the months since I've let AxeBites languish all to bleedin' hell, Gibson's Robot Guitar technology has sifted out to other models than the original Les Paul application. I don't know how it's going: I still haven't even seen one of these self-tuners. I don't see piles of them burning on the sides of the highway, nor reverent hangings in display cases over bars, so who knows? This 2008 Robot SG is ready to rock in the Metallic Red. Nickel hardware; it's the stoptail wired for data to send to the tuners, with dual Humbuckers. It's a bound rosewood fretboard, but I really like the single-bound machine head with the crown inlay. That's a real cool old-school look, right there, to set off that crazy-ass color. {nod}