Rollin' Like Sisyphus

Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on August 11, 2017

So it’s Friday.
Somewhere in God’s Country, a murder* of Dread Ilk are gathering to enjoy the company of learned folk and plot future plans of both the contingent and of the adversarial variety, but here I sit, a couple of thousand miles away, workin’ toward my own goals of plotting contingent and adversarial plans.
So away we go.
Cuttin’ it early, again. Too much stupid useless shit in the news, so much so that even the liberal-as-fuck mother-in-law can’t hardly stand it anymore, and if you’ve lost her, you’ve lost.
Get ’em in and make it a great one.

* If crows gather by the murder, than likewise do the Dread Ilk.

SONG SELECTION

Makin’ A Mess
Skid Row
Skid Row
Atlantic Records | 1989



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Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on August 4, 2017

So, considering the future, I’m at a sort of a quandary. What is preferable: farmland, ranchland, mountain/canyon land, or desert land. I suppose it comes down to a balance between self-sufficiency and protection through isolation. Farmland/ranchland can be nearly self-sufficient, but it is also a target, and up the ass currently with petty bureaucracies at every level of municipal engagement. Hiding in the mountains is easier, but so is freezing to death on an empty stomach. I’ve grown up in the desert; the current desert redoubt is out of the way and sits over a portion of the death valley natural aquifer, so water will never be a problem. Food, though, always will be. Couldn’t possibly store enough to make up the difference between prepping and living for any permanent situation; nothing indigenous out there that’s much larger than a jack rabbit, and even those have the good sense to go. On the other end of the valley there’s enough ground vegetation to support a wider variety including sheep and all of the things that love to hunt sheep.
Anyway, still ponderin’.
It’s been abysmally humid here lately. Like east coast flap-sweat humid. The only small sliver of a benefit to this shithole was the weather, but going on the fourth humid-as-fuck summer is leading me to believe the ship is about to set sail on the California Dream, deservedly so.
We’re callin’ it. I’ve got a hammock, some 1792 small batch, and a book on Texas Rangers chasing Comanchie, Kiowa, and assorted outlaws across the Texas plains during Reconstruction.
Let’s call it a weekend, friends.
Get ‘em in, and have a great one.

SONG SELECTION

There’s Destruction In That Land
Demons & Angels
The Reverend Gary Davis
Shanchie Records | 2001


Sorta Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on July 28, 2017

WHY DO WE KEEP DOING THIS TO OURSELVES.
Another Friday straight down the shitter.
What a waste.
Except, not really.
Spent half the week sick as shit, the other half up to my lymph nodes in work, and I barely had time to notice the news.
While genders may not be fluid, I can say with certainty that the Trump administration absolutely is. It is the very model of fluidity; a viscous fluid that smells vaguely of Hoppes #9 and the broken dreams of an infinite number of reporters bangin’ away on an infinite number of keyboards, in infinitive despair for all of infinity. Or eternity. Whichever they happen upon first.
But alas.
So, to again, I must call it early, because it’s late, so late, and the curtains draw ever more swiftly.
Have a bitchin’ weekend, and get ’em in.
This week’s selection is less about the song and more about the video. It’s a near-perfect example of visual storytelling. Also, mostly, I love the car — 68 Coronet. Beautiful car.

SONG SELECTION

Stand By Me
Kitty Hawk
Ki: Theory
S/P | 2013


Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on July 21, 2017

FRIDAY AGAIN, ALWAYS AGAIN.
SPICER GONE.
MUH RUSHIN HAX.
HEAT WAVE.
SLEEP NOW.
IMBIBE LATER.
PEACE OUT.

SONG SELECTION

Let Me Go Home
The Complete Specialty Recordings
Sam Cooke & The Soul Stirrers
Specialty Records | 2002


Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on July 14, 2017

HAVE YOU HEARD THE WORD OF THE TURD ON THE SLPURD NEXT TO THE CURD THROWN AT THE BIRD BY THE KURD NEAR THE FERD?
NO?
PAY ATTENTION, THEN.
So again with the Russia shit. This is the most pathetic clandestine op imaginable, going back to a well that never had water in it, scraping up baked earth insisting its pure mountain spring water, fresh as the goddamn dew.
THE GODDAMN DEW.
EVERY OTHER WEEK IS RUSSIA WEEK DOWN HERE AT THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA!
CLOWNS!
PETTING ZOOS!
FAKING SUICIDES TO COVER UP POLITICAL HITS!
BALLOON ANIMALS FOR THE KIDS!
It’s been a week, ladies and gentlemen.
The weather’s turned somewhat reasonable the past couple of days here, but it’s supposed to push back up into 100s by this time tomorrow, so I’m looking forward to the sweating and the fevered hallucinations that can only come from the curious blending of dehydration, heat stroke, and brush-fire ash.
I’ll leave y’all to it.
Have a bitchin’ weekend, and get ‘em the Hell in, doubletime.

SONG SELECTION

Russiatown
S/T
The Cowmen
587095 Records | 2015


Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on July 7, 2017

All I can say on this Always-Friday is that we are witnessing the bipolar self-destruction of the media as they could barely last 6 months into Trump’s first term without their hysteria overwhelming them entirely. CNN will be the first to self-immolate, but the others will follow. If you as an entity whose sole purpose is to attract eye balls commits suicide and no one hardly even notices, is that in fact the deepest of a thousand cuts?
I’m going to say yes, yes it is.
It was 94 degrees when I got up at 6am this morning, and that’s in Los Angeles. Will be heading out to the desert this evening for the weekend where, according to my thermometer widget, is already 109 degrees.
I can hardly fucking wait.
As for the rest of it, well, there’s probably more, much more, to say but since it’s always Friday, we can discuss it during tomorrow’s Friday instead of today’s Friday.
Have a bitchin’ weekend and get ‘em the fuck in.

SONG SELECTION

Let Me Come On Home
The Dock Of The Bay (U.K.)
Otis Redding
Stax Records | 1967


Good Music Wednesday — Financial Independence Was A Stupid Idea Edition

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on June 30, 2017

GHDLS:KMNFOM V:LKSVLK:RFG”L MNSLD MKF:DOSIMCE SD FDKFV
!
?
!!!

I’m out.
Have a great weekend.
Get ‘em in.

SONG SELECTION

Independence Day
All Scratched Up
Down By Law
Epitaph Records | 1996


Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on June 23, 2017

What I wouldn’t give for it to always be Saturday, instead of Friday.
EVERY DAY SHOULD BE SATURDAY.
And yet, here we are, in the land of Perpetual Friday, always on the edge of something great but hardly ever actually dwelling within greatness.
I have it on the highest authority that Heaven is nothing but infinite Saturdays, beautiful, gorgeous, incredible late-summer/early autumn Saturdays where college football is in full swing, but old-timey college football before it all became a rolling pageant of criminality and SJW window-licking. Just old-time football, listened to on the radio while leisurely attending to this task or that, all Saturday long, every Saturday of the week, at least until the heat-death of the universe.
But no, here we are, Friday again, pushin’ on toward midnight or Doomsday, whichever we get to first.
This is the Devil’s world.
Take a five-minute spin through the headlines of any day of the week, and try to refute it.
You can’t.
You won’t.
You know it’s true.
I’m sure a bunch of shit happened out in the world this past week. I know I’ve seen a lot of it, but I really can’t be bothered to commit any of it to memory anymore. All the news is anymore is a convoluted Mad Libz game where even the people don’t change – Trump [VERB] [PREDICATE] ZOMG!
So, I drink, I laugh, I focus on work that requires a level of weaponized autism that is frankly beyond me, but here we are, here we go.
This weekend looks to bring the first serious heat of summer, which is fitting, since this is the first weekend of summer. If I can steal away to the hammock for a few ours with a strong book and a stronger tea, I’ll consider the time well-spent.
Get ‘em in, and enjoy the weekend.

SONG SELECTION

Hallelujah
Live Performance
Ryan Bingam
Gruene Hall, New Braunfels, Texas | March 2013


Good Music Friday — Antebellum II Edition

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on June 16, 2017

Is it really a civil war when only one side is shootin’?
Perhaps that is a question best left to the rhetorical until the time we no longer have the luxury to ignore it. Remember how for the past, oh, decade or so, I’ve been saying people will soon lose their shit, flip their biscuits, shorten their time preferences, and unleash their retarded inner children upon us all?
We’re there.
HASHTAG FINALLY.
I wish I could say I don’t know what comes next, so that it would be as much a surprise to me as it seems to be to a lot of other people, but alas, we’ve been down this road a’fore, we’ll be down it again, and whomever gets to the ruins last is a rotten egg, probably literally, and it’s not even the Summer of Our Discontent yet.
Somehow we’re a day late and a decade early, which is no kind of way to get caught with your pants down. By the time the sun sets on all of this, there will no longer be such a thing as middle-of-the-road, undecided, independent, moderate, or unaffiliated.
Tribe versus tribe clear on to Doomsday.
Thank God I have a redoubt.
Hate to cut and run, but there’s meaningless work to be done to secure the lucre to afford the resources to then do the meaningful work that must be done.
Decade late and a day early, remember.
In honor of the supposed news that the Mars Curiosity rover found a WWII-era Nazi helmet on the surface of Mars, let’s head into the weekend the only we know how.
Get ‘em in and have a great one.

SONG SELECTION

Master Race (In Outer Space)
When In Rome, Do As The Vandals
The Vandals
National Trust Records | 1984


Good Music Friday

Posted in Good Music Friday by Huckleberry on June 9, 2017

YRIDFA once again beckons.
So here we are.
Here we were.
Here we shall ever be.
The difference between a rut and the grave is just a couple of inches.
Which is really no difference at all.
So the erstwhile director of the FBI flamed out over the twilight sky like a barely perceptible shower of meteors, come-and-gone before you even knew what you were looking at, and the one rarely spoken of benefit of a Trump administration is that all of the dirt is likely already known, and near completely ineffective. Past administrations since Hoover have feared the position of FBI Director and treated its occupants with kid gloves, presumably because those previous directors were never shy about orchestrating clandestine shenanigans to attack said administration.
Now that its become clear even to the mouth-breathing, window-licking, pants-wetting retards that Comey and Co. have committed many more high crimes and misdemeanors than Trump and Co. could hope to, maybe this will all quiet down and we can enjoy our summer.
Who am I kidding.
Anyway, off to earn a buck.
Get ‘em in, and have a bitchin’ weekend.

SONG SELECTION

Jamaican Inspector Man
Psych: The Musical
Steve Franks & The Friendly Indians
USA Networks | 2013