Showing posts with label good vibrations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good vibrations. Show all posts

November 02, 2010

Election Day Endorsements Part 2: Oh, shit, man, what time is it, did the polls already close?

It's probably too late to make proper endorsements, half-way thru election day, since so many people vote early in California anyway. I'm nervous about the fate of Prop 19, which has been behind in the polls, & could be the last realistic time for awhile to end prohibition. The bloggers for itwaslost are more champagne drinkers & hookah smokers, not cannabis connoisseurs, but there's been a lot of good arguments everywhere why Prop 19 benefits the whole state, not just those who ever plan on smoking some pot legally. Former San Jose Police Chief Joseph McNamara has been campaigning from a law enforcement angle, he's written some good editorials & stars in this tv ad:




I also really liked the sound arguments laid down by the New York Times' Nicholas Krystof:

[...]Our nearly century-long experiment in banning marijuana has failed as abysmally as Prohibition did, and California may now be pioneering a saner approach. Sure, there are risks if California legalizes pot. But our present drug policy has three catastrophic consequences.

First, it squanders billions of dollars that might be better used for education. California now spends more money on prisons than on higher education. It spends about $216,000 per year on each juvenile detainee, and just $8,000 on each child in the troubled Oakland public school system.

Each year, some 750,000 Americans are arrested for possession of small amounts of marijuana. Is that really the optimal use of our police force?

In contrast, legalizing and taxing marijuana would bring in substantial sums that could be used to pay for schools, libraries or early childhood education. A Harvard economist, Jeffrey A. Miron, calculates that marijuana could generate $8.7 billion in tax revenue each year if legalized nationally, while legalization would also save the same sum annually in enforcement costs.

That’s a $17 billion swing in the nation’s finances — enough to send every 3- and 4-year-old in a poor family to a high-quality preschool. And that’s an investment that would improve education outcomes and reduce crime and drug use in the future — with enough left over to pay for an extensive nationwide campaign to discourage drug use.

The second big problem with the drug war is that it has exacerbated poverty and devastated the family structure of African-Americans. Partly that’s because drug laws are enforced inequitably. Black and Latino men are much more likely than whites to be stopped and searched and, when drugs are found, prosecuted.

Here in Los Angeles, blacks are arrested for marijuana possession at seven times the rate whites are, according to a study by the Drug Policy Alliance, which favors legalization. Yet surveys consistently find that young whites use marijuana at higher rates than young blacks.

Partly because of drug laws, a black man now has a one-in-three chance of serving time in prison at some point in his life, according to the Sentencing Project, a group that seeks reform in the criminal justice system. This makes it more difficult for black men to find jobs, more difficult for black women to find suitable husbands, and less common for black children to grow up in stable families with black male role models. So, sure, drugs have devastated black communities — but the remedy of criminal sentencing has made the situation worse.

He continues with more about crime and gangs and pot's risks.
There's also a really compelling environmental reason which not many people are discussing. It goes something along the lines of: Grow houses use a disgusting amount of electricity & water, much of it pirated from the grid. Let's let the sun do the work growing the state's pot! And if you don't believe there's untold thousands of grow houses peppered around California in every neighborhood, then there's some oregano in a baggy I'd like to sell you.
And lastly, a word about the opposition. Take for instance the wording of the Los Angeles Times' "No" endorsement: "The marijuana legalization measure is poorly thought out, badly crafted and replete with loopholes and contradictions." This is just something its opponents have made up, to make it sound like it was written by irresponsible stoners, knowing most of us aren't political enough to read the details of the bill ourselves. Exactly the opposite is true. The San Francisco Chronicle's Debra J Saunders wrote:

The establishment spin goes something like this: Even if marijuana legalization makes sense, Prop. 19 is so poorly written that voters must reject it.

Bunk. The measure is tightly written to give state and local governments unimpeded authority in deciding whether to allow the sale of marijuana, and if so, how to tax and regulate it.

There won't be a better bill. Marijuana prohibition enables and enriches criminal cartels and gangs. Californians have a chance to end the madness, and voters should grab it.

As for the Stoners Against 19 campaign, led by Dragonfly Whatshername, I don't even want to respond to them. It's naive! When you weigh, on one side, decriminalizing something millions of people do safely, versus, on the other side, things are fine as they are & omg what if tobacco companies want to sell pot!? then there's just no contest. Sure, having millions on non-criminals smoking pot illegally is a copacetic status quo. If you're white.

October 26, 2010

Department of Brian Wilson: Brian Wilson sings the songs of Brian Wilson

During the next week, (i.e. the World Series is in SAN FRANCISCO!), this blog will be all Brian Wilson, all the time. Next up on our Brian Wilson station, Brian Wilson sings the songs of Brian Wilson:




Sadly, the amazing Brian Wilson singing "Good Vibrations" video I really wanted to post is un-embeddable, so go watch it here.

October 24, 2010

Yes, Go Giants

If only we could get Brian Wilson and Brian Wilson in a room together.

January 09, 2009

Quotes: William Billings' Numb-Skull, & inharmonic Caverns

Kind Reader, No doubt you (do, or ought to) remember, that about eight years ago, I published a Book entitled, The New-England Psalm-Singer, &c. And truely a most masterly and inimitable Performance, I then thought it to be. Oh! how did my foolish heart throb & beat with tumultouos joy! With what impatience did I wait on the Book-Binder, while stitching the sheets and putting on the covers, with what extacy, did I snatch the yet unfinished Book out of his hands, and pressing it to my bosom, with rapturous delight, how lavish was I, in encomiums on this infant production of my own Numb-Skull? Welcome; thrice welcome; thou legitimate offspring of my brain, go forth my little Book, go forth and immortalize the name of your Author; may your sale be rapid and may you speedily run thru ten thousand Editions, may you be a welcome guest in all companies and what will ad tenfold to thy dignity, may you find your way into the Libraries of the Learned.
Billings also included a dissonant song called Jargon in response to "critics of the harmonic vocabulary of his first tune book." He includes a long discourse, addressed "To the Goddess of Discord":
DREAD SOVEREIGN,
I have been sagacious enough of late, to discover that some evil-minded persons have insinuated to your highness, that I am utterly unmindful of your Ladyship's importance; and that my time, as well as my talents, was wholly taken up in paying my divoto to your most implacable enemy and strenuous opposer, viz. the GODDESS OF CONCORD, which representation is as false as it is ill-natured; for as your Ladyship may believe me without hesitation, when I assure you on the word of an honest man, that knowing your Ladyship to be of a very cautious disposition; I have always been very careful of trespassing on your grounds for fear of incuring your displeasure, so far as to exite you to take vengeance (which is well known to be your darling attribute.)


I have likewise been informed, that some of my most implacable enemy's are some of your Majesty's privy council, and that your Majesty's Secretary at war, viz. Lord Jargon, was about to send some of your other Lords in waiting, viz. Lord second, Lord 7th, Lord 9th, alias 2d, junior [i.e. dissonant musical intervals], with some others, to beat a tattoo apon the drum of my ear, with so great a number of contra-vibrations without the intervention of a single coincidence, and with so much Forte as to dislocate my auditory; upon which was, to repel force by force, and we had even proceeded as far as to order Lord Consonance, our Secretary at peace to furnish our life guard with an infinite number of coincidences, without the intervention of one contravibration; and altho we have the majority on our side, yet we held it in scord to take any advantage from our numbers, therefore we had selected an equal number of those who had attained unto the first three, viz. Lord Unison, Lord Diapente, Lord Octave, alias Lord Unison, jun'r, and for their Aid de camps, we had chosen two twin brothers, viz. Major and Minor Trio, together with Major Sixth, &c we had proceeded thus far when in turning over a very antient history I met with the following passage, viz. "by wise council thou shalt make thy war, and in multitude of cousellors there is safety." [...]
This goes on for several more pages, & continues with a response from the goddess herself:

November 10, 2007

La Niña


Listen to me, hobos, with your feet not with your ears:
The salvation train no longer goes thru Portland:
One beer-swilling infant caused war for two thousand years,
Like dried-up camel tears,
Next century's preachers will drop from your face, & be forever banned.

The winter is past due, the fine is tremendous,
My love is a dodecahedron upon a fractal mountain,
The prophetess' jaw is locked up, but perhaps she just has Tetanus,
A virgin except for her clitoris,
She does not know the silent futurity, eternal jail for the whisky fountain.

Fall like amber locks, your robe torn off like lust & descent:
The wind hears you partying with another man in Orange County.
This rotten paradise was never meant to be misspent,
I have forgotten to pay the rent,
Pulsing beneath her t-shirt are several answers, lost booty, lost bounty.

You have to come up before you go down on the earth.
Do you remember that nice man with weird hair who killed his monster baby?
She told him it wasn't the antichrist, just more trouble than it was worth:
The birth of a subversive reversal,
So they added an eighth lane to the flaming freeway, no fin whale will judge their infamy.

Hobos & tramps, you need to ask me more questions, I miss her,
We are sober in different ways, missing in America's décolletage.
Pillaging & taxing, & surging with grief, & raped by a dinosaur incisor,
None the wiser until I kiss her,
Your eardrums beating with these vibrations on hell's watch.

The rain is over - Are you paying attention, Miranda? - come ask her apes,
What to bring as a present for a child who will end materialism?
She told him this wasn't the incorporeal rapture, just a stain on the images of cityscapes,
Put those walking feet toward stamping grapes,
And help me celebrate our victory, the chiefest beloved in Folsom Prism.

October 05, 2007

Genius Prayer


Glory be to my gonads! I can teach the Cafe Gratitude something about abundance,
And cooking mountain oysters.
My wife knows about my boyfriend, but my boyfriend never grasped the subtleties of polyamorous romance,
Before he took the bloodthirsty sickle from his belt & began running towards the cottage,
There was no balance.
The princess of the scales never ventured here from her elysian cloisters,
And a decision-making job results in decisions being made, so says the God of Centrifuge.

Our whimpering & muttering, a few errant gnats heard our request.
They're still buzzing about it.
Now we're shooting quarks thru lenticular galaxies, sexual imagery you know best.
We were fruitful, we did long division, we reified our meek-inheriting descendants,
And then one smarty-pants prime minister
Destroyed an entire colony of termites with a single flaming bag of shit.
I dream of philosophy in the daytime, but after hours, only of getting into Dolly Parton's pants.

And a soul that goes whoring after wizards, or has mastered non-verbal spells,
I will cut him off from among my capers.
I feel the vibrations of the future of the planet as so many tolling life-knells.
The omniscient is still anxious, we have not lived chaste & honorable lives.
Saint John is scoffing at me,
But Saint Frideswide is too busy making out with lepers.
Let Shakespeare exalt his illegitimate children, I am going to meditate ceaselessly until the pizza man arrives.