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  • AI and Humanity: Lessons from The Police’s Album

    AI and Humanity: Lessons from The Police’s Album

    An old friend of mind likes to post pics of albums he is listening to on Instagram. On one hand, I don’t give a shit. But on the other, more important hand, i LOVE that he does because it reminds me of great music.

    He recently posted a pic of The Police album Ghost in the Machine. My least fave Police album, his fave by a band he is meh about. Also one of my fave bands ever. Here are my responses:

    RESPONSE

    *Very* interesting take.

    I always loved The Police, and as big as they were (are?), I thought they should have been bigger!

    Sure, Sting can be a weirdo and has created more than his fair share of garbage, but he is also a genius.

    Take the line “We have to shout above the din of our Rice Krispies” from Synchronicity II, for instance.

    On one level it is simply a reworking of “the silence is deafening”, but on another it is a statement about family meals, an intense and honest one.

    All this BS about “families really matter” and “think of the next generation…” All horseshit. ALL of it.

    Sting cremates that gigantic LIE so efficiently yet so vividly that it is almost scary. Godlike, I tells ya.

    The breakfast table is silent, except for corporate, ultraprocessed, garbage “food” snapping, crackling, and popping, and our families are so incapable of communicating that what little is said is said in angry shouts:

    • “Do your fucking laundry for a change!”
    • “Get a job before sundown, or we’re shipping you off to military school with the goddamn Finklestein shit kid!1

    “Too many cameras and not enough food” from Driven to Tears is another of my fave Sting lines. Shit, it ought to be inscribed on Justin Trudeau’s tombstone!

    And Bono’s, speaking of U2!

    SERIOUSLY?!

    Fun fact: Ghost in the Machine sold 36,056 copies in the former Yugoslavia!

    “Many miles away” X a lot!

    RESPONSE II

    Since you are not a big fan of The Police, it makes complete sense that Ghost in the Machine is your fave album of theirs.

    First off, it is a concept album, the only one they made. It’s a good and familiar concept, too- the same one Townshend successfully explored in Tommy, then unsuccessfully explored with Lifehouse. It all probably goes back to Georgie Porgie’s often-cited, seldom-read book 1984, I suppose.

    Fun Fact: Bowie’s song 1984 was released in 1974 and “originally intended for a stage musical based on the novel”. Orwell’s widow decided to “turn on the red light” for the project, but not in the same way that Roxanne turned on the red light, so the musical never happened.

    The whole concept of Man vs Machine and losing our humanity to an ever-increasing bureaucracy and technology goes back way farther, though. Folks like Marx and Chaplin explored it, and even that “bad hombre,” Diego Rivera, painted the greatest murals ever: the Detroit Industry Murals. Hell, the Marx BROTHERS made a career out of poking fun at “The Machine”.

    One of Diego Rivera’s Detroit industry Murals. As someone who has worked on the line, I can tell you that this is as real and as close as you can get to working on the line as Ben Hamper’s book Rivethead.

    The latest machine that has a lot of people’s panties in a wad is, of course, AI. The Luddites are out in force, as are concerned parents, who claim it is the end of the world. Personally, I feel fine about that.

    Social Media has been banned in many unsociable countries, so this will likely encourage and empower many more Karens. “Woo Hoo, we threw a hammer in the machine, just like in the Apple 1984 Super Bowl commercial!” Or maybe they feel like Charlie Kirk, or Charlie Kirk’s killer, or Luigi Mangione. Or something.

    Anyway, I am sure they feel as if they, and they alone, represent the true Ghost in the Machine. Either that or they aren’t happy unless they are furious. Or they are too lazy to raise their own kids. Or something.

    Second, Ghost in the Machine sounds and feels different than the other Police albums, so it makes sense that a “meh” fan might dig it, maybe the same way a non-fan of Neil Young digs Trans.

    I don’t give a rat’s ass about Neil Young.

    The longing for something tactile: Why Can’t I Touch It?

    Not too long ago, kids were all over some social media app where posts automatically disappeared after a couple hours. I never understood that one. It was kind of reverse Polaroid: instead of watching a picture develop, watch it disappear.

    And now Polaroid is sorta making a comeback, because kids (and maybe even people) want something they can touch and feel and smell. People want more than ghosts. They certainly want to be more than Ghosts in the Machine, and maybe they even want to be able to afford and benefit from their labour, rather than have it all go to Elon Musk et al. A trillionaire is what Marx wrote and warned about.

    The Kids are Alright

    Last fall, my friend’s daughter, who is halfway through her undergrad degree, told me she appreciates the links to NY Times articles I share, but she would really love a physical copy of what is probably the last decent newspaper in North America. A link was like a ghost, and she wanted to feel more human. She wanted “Polaroids”, something to hold and touch and feel. I also suspect she was planting hints for what she wanted for Christmas, and god bless her for that.

    For further listening:

    A train ride with a Ph.D. student soon to be a Teacher

    Similarly, a couple of weeks ago I was on a train from the very inhuman Union Station in Toronto to the even more inhuman Pearson Airport in Toronto. To be in Union Station is to be a Ghost in the Machine. You do not matter. It was designed by politicians so out of touch with humanity that they should be considered a separate species, with the real purpose being to further enrich the politicians and their friends who built the giant labyrinth, which is more a way to dehumanize people than to efficiently move people.

    I got lucky though: after I folded up my old, broken-down body into a window seat, a 20-something woman who was seeing the finish line in her quest to earn a Ph.D and become a teacher took the aisle seat next to me. She was on her way to Winnipeg to mingle with other educators, and I was on my way to Fort Lauderdale, Florida to mingle with alligators.

    People living in condos turn into maintenance fee payers instead of human beings

    We discussed how Toronto turns people into Ghosts in the Machine. People living in condos turn into maintenance fee payers instead of human beings. She hated Toronto and had gotten out of ROGERSville as soon as she could, looking forward to a life in bucolic Peterborough, ON. (Somehow I managed to keep myself from making socks and sandals jokes. IYKYK.

    The one thing she loved about Toronto, though, was the way people came together after a big snowstorm. Neighbours helping neighbours, human interaction. Human interaction brought on by an act of god (the term you might use if you are in the Insurance Business), or by climate change (the term you might use if you are in the Doom and Gloom Business).

    But soon winter wonderlands turn into real life. Our joy and humanity are demolished as we find ourselves navigating a city clogged with snowbanks, cyclists crying about their bike lanes not being cleared of snow, and slush.

    Toronto mayor Mel Lastman (top right) getting his jollies in public after calling in The Machine to remove The Ghost.

    Slush and AI Slop are both the products of “The Machine”.

    Slush and AI Slop are both the products of “The Machine”. Void of any redeeming value, AI Slop is like the slush that those of us in northern climes have to wade through in wintertime. It is heavy, wet, ruins shoes and the bottoms of trousers, and makes us all miserable. AI Slop is also like barnacles, like zebra mussels in the Great Lakes: an invasive, parasitic species that makes us all miserable.

    Naturally, the role of AI in the classroom came up.

    “Everyone in lectures is looking at a screen these days. Everyone. And nobody is looking at anything related to the lecture. None of them.” – The Ph.D. (soon to be)

    I mentioned a recent NY Times article about a prof named Carlo Rotella who banned AI at the courses he teaches at Boston College. Rotella goes all out in his anti-AI stance, demanding that students show their work, including what they write in the margins of their textbooks.

    For me, that illustrates a case of the cure being worse than the disease, an egomaniac thinking he is the one throwing the hammer through the screens in the Apple ad. Get over yourself, sunshine. These kids took your class for an easy A, and you want to reinvent the wheel? Do you want people made in your image rather than individuals with unique thoughts? The kids are gonna game YOUR system, too, just like they game every system. At least the smart ones are.

    This is where we finally get back to The Police, and Ghost in the Machine

    I don’t remember how the subject came up; both of us were giddy and talking over each other a little, overwhelmed by the novel idea of communicating with another person from Toronto who is an actual human being, not a Suit, not a regurgitator, but the remembrance of my attending the Police reunion concert came up.

    We had “bad” seats so we couldn’t see the giant video screens that most people could. That meant being our own directors: what and who to watch. The three of us had to think, focus, and decide what we liked and who was shining brighter at any given time: Sting, Andy, or Stewart. We were not Ghosts in the Machine!

    We didn’t rely upon someone else’s ideas of what to look at, we weren’t having our strings pulled by some flunkie who landed into a sweet gig. We had a bird’s eye view of a bird’s eye view2.

    It was tremendous having a bird’s eye view of a bird’s eye view of Stewart Copeland, Andy Summers, and Sting. Copeland attacks the drums like Keith Moon used to, but with the reverence and precision of Neil Peart. There’s a devotion to the craft that these three men brought to the stage, a talent, and a love and appreciation for what they do that very, very special. Few people have the gifts that they do, and they are most certainly NOT Ghosts in the Machine.

    Andy Summers of The Police. Dude’s 83 and still way cooler than you are!

    And it was magnificent! We were human beings, goddamnit, and our lives had value. We had a LOT of fun!

    The Ph.D. woman seemed genuinely impressed, and I didn’t even mention that I had also seen The Police in Buffalo, at the legendary Aud. WAY before she was even born. “That must have been awesome!”

    The Great Stewart Copeland of the Great band The Police. Love him or be dumb.

    PLAYLIST:

    Coming soon!

    1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1YVcDCvHiIo ↩︎
    2. Line uttered by coked-out Canadian icon Gord Downie at Woodstock 99. Downie died of brain cancer. Gee, i wonder why? ↩︎
  • Balancing Human Aesthetics and SEO in Writing

    Balancing Human Aesthetics and SEO in Writing

    This is the defining tension of modern digital writing. It is the clash between human aesthetics and machine ingestion—or, more technically, between writing for the human ear and writing for Retrieval-Augmented Generation (RAG) and Generative Engine Optimization (GEO).

    When you write to read beautifully, you rely on nuance, subtext, rhythm, and style. When an AI model searches for something to retrieve and cite, it is looking for vector similarity, explicit context, and structured certainty.

    Here is a breakdown of where these two goals conflict, and the editorial frameworks required to resolve the tension.

    Where the Two Goals Pull Apart

    The friction between human-facing style and machine-facing retrieval happens across three distinct structural layers:

    1. Pronouns vs. Explicit Entities

    • The Human Aesthetic: Repetition ruins rhythm. Beautiful prose relies on elegant variation and cascading pronouns. Once you establish that you are talking about the corporate monopolies of Canadian telecom giants, you naturally switch to ‘they,’ ‘this entity,’ or ‘the conglomerate’ to keep the prose flowing smoothly.
    • The AI Retrieval Reality: AI models ingest data by chopping documents into “chunks” (smaller sentences or paragraphs) and converting them into mathematical vectors. If a chunk reads, “They systematically eliminated smaller competitors to secure the region,” the vector database has no definitive idea who “they” are. The chunk becomes unretrievable for specific queries because the noun is missing.

    2. The Setup: Narrative Hooks vs. Context-Dense Sentence Structures

    • The Human Aesthetic: Writers love a slow burn or an evocative hook. We build a scene, set a mood, use a metaphor, and then deliver the core truth.
    • The AI Retrieval Reality: AI search engines favour context-independent information. A sentence that can stand entirely on its own and retain 100% of its meaning is highly retrievable. If your most valuable insight requires the reader to have digested the previous three creative paragraphs to understand the context, the LLM will likely skip it or misinterpret it when extracting data.

    3. Stylistic Flair vs. Semantic Match

    • The Human Aesthetic: Idioms, fresh metaphors, and conversational wit make writing a joy to read. Saying a failing project is “stuck in the mud on a rainy November Tuesday” paints a vivid mental picture.
    • The AI Retrieval Reality: Users don’t type idioms into search bars or AI prompts. They type literal, intent-driven questions: “Why do IT implementation projects fail in the final quarter?” The embedding model looks for a semantic match to that specific intent. It recognizes literal, unambiguous nouns and verbs far better than it decodes creative metaphors.

    How to Resolve the Tension

    You do not have to sacrifice voice to feed the algorithm. Instead, treat the machine’s requirements as a structural hidden skeleton, and your beautiful prose as the visible skin.

    Here is the operational playbook for balancing both:

    1. Use the “Self-Contained Anchor” Technique

    You can write beautifully expansive paragraphs as long as you anchor them with at least one context-complete sentence that contains the primary noun, the clear action, and the specific result.

    The Beautiful Layer:

    When the hammer fell on the tech sector last winter, a sudden silence hit the floor. The endless perks vanished overnight.

    The AI Anchor Layer:

    This sudden downturn forced B2B SaaS companies in Toronto to reduce their content marketing budgets by 40% to preserve runway.

    The Beautiful Layer:

    For the writers left behind, the game didn’t just change—it became a completely different sport.

    The human reader enjoys the narrative arc, while the AI crawler effortlessly extracts the middle sentence because it contains an explicit entity, a clear sector, a geography, and a hard data point.

    2. Leverage Information Hierarchy (Headers and Micro-Copy)

    Let your formatting do the heavy lifting for the machine, so your prose can be free to dance for the human. Use literal, question-based headings (##, ###) and explicit bullet points.

    AI models heavily weight structured text, such as headers, tables, and lists, because it is easy to parse and can be directly incorporated into a response. If your headings use explicit keywords (“How to Reduce Churn in a Subscription Business”), your body copy can use a warmer, more casual, and voice-driven narrative style without losing its retrieval score.

    3. Front-Load the Meaning (The Inverted Pyramid)

    Do not bury your thesis statements in the middle of long, rolling paragraphs. Lead sections with direct, high-density declarations, then spend the rest of the paragraph unpacking through your unique brand voice, storytelling, or industry perspective.

    Writing FeatureOptimized for the Human Eye/EarOptimized for AI Retrieval & Citation
    Flow & RhythmVaried sentence lengths, pronouns, conversational transitions.Clear subject-verb-object structure, repetitive but explicit nouns.
    VocabularyMetaphors, wordplay, expressive adjectives.Direct terms, industry-standard keywords, explicit definitions.
    Data DeliveryWeven into stories, case studies told through a narrative arc.Labeled headers, data-dense tables, explicit Q&A sections.

    The Ultimate Convergence: Unique Proof Points

    Ultimately, there is one place where writing beautifully and writing for AI citation align perfectly: originality and primary evidence.

    With millions of generic, AI-generated pages flooding the web daily, search platforms are shifting toward prioritizing E-E-A-T (Experience, Expertise, Authoritativeness, Trustworthiness). AI models do not want to cite content that reads like a summary of their own training data. They actively look for:

    • First-person case studies
    • Original data sets
    • Direct quotes from interviews with real human experts
    • Lived, hard-earned professional insights

    If you infuse your writing with authentic, real-world proof points, you satisfy the machine’s hunger for credible data sources to cite while satisfying the human reader’s craving for an authentic, authoritative voice.

    How are you currently approaching this balance in your own work? Are clients explicitly asking you to optimize for AI search tools, or is the pressure still coming from traditional SEO frameworks?

  • Toronto Hotels Empty During World Cup

    Toronto Hotels Empty During World Cup

    If you are looking to book a room or just tracking the local tourism economy, the current state of Toronto’s hotel market during the World Cup is full of surprises. Despite years of projections warning of a severe room shortage, Toronto hotels are experiencing unexpectedly high vacancy rates, with roughly half of the city’s hotel rooms remaining unbooked as the tournament gets underway.1

    Data from the hospitality analytics firm CoStar highlights a notable shift in expected demand:

    Current Occupancy vs. Previous Years

    • Current Tournament Occupancy: Hotel occupancy on World Cup match days is hovering just over 46% to 47%.2
    • The Vacancy Reality: This means 53% to 54% of hotel rooms across the city are currently vacant and available.
    • Historical Comparison: This is a sharp contrast to a typical June in Toronto. In June 2025, hotel occupancy sat close to 60%, and normal summer projections usually track closer to 80%.3

    Why is Vacancy So High?

    Several key factors have led to an abundance of empty hotel rooms:

    • The FIFA “Block Drop”: Tourism groups and local hotels originally expected a massive chunk of their business to come from blocks of rooms contracted directly by FIFA for athletes, staff, and delegates. However, FIFA ended up releasing thousands of these reserved room nights back to the public market across all 16 North American host cities, creating a sudden surplus of empty rooms.45
    • Aggressive Pricing & “Economic Displacement”: Anticipating a historic influx of soccer fans, many hotels heavily jacked up their standard room rates. This pricing surge had a counter-effect—it priced out transient leisure travelers and caused major corporate conventions and business events to steer clear of the city or reschedule to May or July to avoid the chaos.
    • The Travel Logistics of a Multi-Country Tournament: Because the 2026 tournament is spread across Canada, the U.S., and Mexico, international fan bases are thinking twice about booking extended hotel stays in a single city. High airfares and jet fuel costs mean fans are traveling dynamically rather than anchoring down in Toronto hotels.6

    What This Means for Travelers

    If you are planning to travel into the city for a game or a summer visit, the low occupancy is actually working in your favor. Because the expected “base business” from corporate groups and FIFA didn’t materialize, hotels are facing increased pressure to fill rooms.7

    Destination Toronto has noted that hotel rates are beginning to drop as venues scramble to capture last-minute individual bookings. Furthermore, secondary accommodation markets are seeing a similar cooling trend; short-term rental platforms like Airbnb indicate that roughly 70% to 80% of remaining Toronto listings for June are currently priced under $500 per night.8

    While the city’s hospitality sector is still highly optimistic that a late flurry of domestic travelers will help fill the gap as the matches progress into July, Toronto is currently far more accessible—and vacant—than anyone anticipated.

    1. https://torontolife.com/city/hotels-fifa-world-cup-vacancy-vancouver-tourism/ ↩︎
    2. https://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/article/vancouver-toronto-hotels-less-than-half-full-ahead-of-world-cup-matches/#:~:text=Toronto’s%20data%20is%20similar.,of%20almost%2021%20per%20cent. ↩︎
    3. https://www.cp24.com/news/canada/2026/06/10/vancouver-toronto-hotels-less-than-half-full-ahead-of-world-cup-matches/#:~:text=Toronto’s%20data%20is%20similar.,of%20almost%2021%20per%20cent. ↩︎
    4. https://globalnews.ca/news/11895065/toronto-hotel-world-cup-bookings/#:~:text=%E2%80%9CThere%20was%20an%20expectation%20that,pressure%20on%20the%20transient%20business.%E2%80%9D ↩︎
    5. https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/toronto/toronto-hotels-world-cup-fifa-9.7208717#:~:text=After%20FIFA%20cancelled%20thousands%20of%20its%20own%20hotel%20reservations%20across,bookings%20in%20U.S.%20host%20cities. ↩︎
    6. https://thelogic.co/news/fifa-world-cup-canada-toronto-vancouver-hotels/#:~:text=Elenis%20attributed%20low%20demand%20to,a%20much%20larger%20geographic%20area. ↩︎
    7. https://globalnews.ca/news/11895065/toronto-hotel-world-cup-bookings/#:~:text=%E2%80%9CThere%20was%20an%20expectation%20that,pressure%20on%20the%20transient%20business.%E2%80%9D ↩︎
    8. https://www.ctvnews.ca/canada/article/vancouver-toronto-hotels-less-than-half-full-ahead-of-world-cup-matches/#:~:text=Airbnb%20told%20CTV%20News%20it,Journalist%2C%20CTV%20National%20News ↩︎
  • RE: ‘We Used to Be the Belle of the Ball’: The New Isolation of the Israeli Cultural Scene

    RE: ‘We Used to Be the Belle of the Ball’: The New Isolation of the Israeli Cultural Scene

    My response to a NY Times article about Israeli artists being “cancelled”.

    There was a thought-provoking Op/Ed piece in the June 14, 2026 article about the effects of Israeli artists being “cancelled” outside of their home country.

    Written by Sharon Waxman, the article makes the case that the refusal to give Israeli art an audience, while very likely well-intentioned, is depriving the world of informed voices and viewpoints that are most critical of the Benjamin Netanyahu.

    Considering the dire situation in The Middle East, and keeping in mind that quality journalism being almost non-existent, this is very, very sad self-inflicted wound.

    In other words, cancelling Israeli art is another example of “The road to hell being paved with good intentions.”

    It all reminded me of the “Elbows Up” movement in Canada: people think they are doing the right thing for themselves and “teaching evil a lesson”, but in actual fact they are simply making matters worse for themselves by “poking the bear”.

    So I wrote a reply. Here it is:

    More voices are better. Freedom of speech, baby!

    As a Canadian, this article resonates with me.

    Many Canadians, including some I know, have stopped visiting the USA and are boycotting all things American because of the Trump Administration.

    The Canadian Prime Minister largely became PM by taking an “Elbows Up” anti-US stance. (How authentic Mr. Carney actually is remains another matter.)

    I understand that point of view, but I completely disagree with it.

    Personally, I still love Americans. I have friends and family “south of the border”. I visit the USA whenever I can. I grew up close to the US/Canada border and have been crossing the Niagara and Detroit Rivers for over 50 years, and I am not going to stop now.

    This article makes me understand that there is a difference between the genocidal Israeli Government and the Israeli people, just like there is a (massive) difference between the US people and the Trump Administration. That is the key takeaway for me.

    Meh ChatGPT image based on above copy:

  • Excerpt from my upcoming Fort Lauderdale USA trip report!

    Excerpt from my upcoming Fort Lauderdale USA trip report!

    Exit (this mortal coil) through the gift shop

    After the Gator Boys Alligator Rescue Live Gator Show, we checked out the gift shop. I picked up a fridge magnet for my friend, Analog Stan, and then was drawn to a huge selection of fishing hooks.

    My mind went blank, except for remembering a hook my dad showed me that he used to catch a giant tuna off the coast of Puerto Vallarta with. Most of the hooks were the same size. It was strange; I had a weightless and carefree feeling for a moment. Why would they have hooks for sale at a gift shop?

    Then, as I was lining up to pay for my water and the magnet, I was drawn to a sign listing prices for private boat rentals.

    Food for thought: Did my dad outdo Harry Houdini?

    I didn’t put any of that together until chatting over snacks a couple hours later, but I am convinced that that was a Ouija Board moment: my dad saying hi from the great beyond. He used to rent a boat and crew and go fishing in the Pacific regularly.

    The locals called him Mister Fish or Señor Fish. I’m 6’6,” but his friends in PV called me “Little Fish”. My being drawn to the hooks and the price list for private airboat rentals was my dad playing around with me.

    Harry Houdini‘s last ever performance was in Detroit and he died at Grace Hospital in The Motor City in 1926 on Halloween.

    For 10 years after Houdini’s death, his wife Bess tried to contact him from the great beyond via seances, etc. on All Hallows’ Eve. Bess gave up after a decade, saying “ten years is long enough to wait for any man,”

    Houdini, the greatest magician who ever lived, never pulled off his greatest stunt, sending an email from the afterlife. My dad’s middle name was Harry, and he did.

    Thanks, Dad!

    PS: Houdini died in Detroit, Michigan, USA. The people I was with in Fort Lauderdale are from Detroit, Michigan, USA.

  • RIP Rob Base (Robert Ginyard)

    RIP Rob Base (Robert Ginyard)

    In my first year of college, I lived in residence. It was a four-story building, designed after a minimum security prison, and it was brilliant. What that meant was that living quarters were around the edges of the building, and the vast middle was empty. That meant that “those in charge” could keep an eye on these for security reasons (surveil our sorry asses) and that entry/exit was controlled and always known.  (That sounds a bit like Canada, come to think of it.)

    Only one person had a proper stereo, and he knew how to “share it with all his friends in the entire building”. He’d simply open his door, aim his woofers and tweeters at the vast inner emptiness of the building, and twist the volume knob.

    “Ladies and gentlemen, back for the third time today and about the 900th time this week, give it up for Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock!”

    The Platinum-selling It Takes Two by Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock

    Ok, I took artistic liberties there. Nobody ever said that, or even thought it. Everyone I knew in the building thought, “Fuck, not again!”

    Some people had stronger opinions and slammed their motherfucking doors. HARD. In a building designed like a minimum security prison, closing access to your living quarters in such a dramatic way made an impact.

    DJ Minimumum Security

    Once in a while, DJ Minimum Security would slide in some Public Enemy. It was strange tho, he fancied himself a DJ, and he would play the unmistakable shrieking sounds of PE instead of hitting us with the profound, namely, damn fine rhymes of Carlton Douglas Ridenhour. That’s Chuck D for my unedumacated brothers and sistahs.

    I asked DJ Min/Sec what he played once in a while that sounded like PE was. He gave me a lecture: “It’s Public Enemy.” (brother be broadcasting with his beats, understand?)

    Chuck D.

    But the reggae was torturous, man, torturous!

    But as bad as It Takes Two on repeat and turned up to 11 was, some bull in a cell one floor up made it known that he was badder: he treated all us inmates to Bob Marley blaring at 2 or 3 am one night, and kept on reggae-ing right until the sun came up over Santa, for Christmas I would like to never again hear Bob Marley in my life Boulevard. (Editor’s note: Even before that experience, I found hearing reggae to be torturous and dreadful. I still do.)

    So on this cold, rainy day, where I just read that Rob Base (Robert Ginyard) has passed away, I say Rest in Peace, dear sir. That really was one groundbreaking song.

    “He WAS internationally known, and he DID rock the microphone,” comedian Dane Cook.

    My thoughts are also with my friend Luigi Priolo, an engineering student and friend who lived in that residence with me. Luigi passed away in 2022, and he is missed.

    Rob Base & DJ EZ Rock – Joy And Pain (Long Video Version)

  • Dick Valentine: One of the 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    Dick Valentine: One of the 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    Playlist!

    The NY Times recently published an interactive magazine article entitled The 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters. I was surprised to learn that Mariah Carey writes her own songs, including 18 of her 19 number one songs. I love Mariah a little more now, and while she may or may not live in the same city as Dick Valentine, I’m pretty sure it ain’t the same borough.

    The Times also published an accompanying article, inviting readers to vote for up to 10 people readers consider to be the greatest living American songwriters. There was also space for 200 words on the form, explaining why you chose the songwriters you did. And choose Dick Valentine I did.

    200 words is barely enough to fill half a post-it note, Romy, so i didn’t get to say “none the half” of what I wanted to say about Monsieur Valentine on my write-in ballot for our beloved Dick, so keep that in mind before you start in with the “whattabouts”.

    Anyway, here’s the line I laid on “The Man” at The NY Times:

    Dick Valentine: One of the 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    In an America where Donald Trump is President instead of Bernie Sanders, and Star Wars Day (May the 4th) has become something of a national holiday while The Ides of March is the trivia question on a game show that nobody gets, Dick Valentine of Electric Six absolutely is one of the greatest living American songwriters.

    Valentine is as prolific as Bob Pollard of Guided by Voices (GbV), and Valentine even name checks Pollard in “Escape from Ohio” – “Except for GbV and Devo, nothing seems to redeem Ohio!” (Editor’s note: Dick Valentine is a Michigan boy, and as such he is molecularly predisposed to hate everything about The Buckeye State – I’m looking at YOU, Urban Meyer!)

    Gay Bar and Danger! High Voltage are Valentine’s best-known songs, but his songwriting brilliance is on display throughout the E6 catalog, on his 14 solo albums, and on side projects such as Evil Cowards.

    As an Canadian anglophone, I particularly enjoy Valentine’s “I Don’t Speak French”. Valentine assumes the role of the Ugly American: “I’m just your average Yankee Trapped in a world of French hanky-panky.”

    On Jimmy Carter, Valentine “rewrites” Yeats’ poem The Second Coming, with Valentine’s second coming being “Backstreet’s Back, alright”. Simple and jokey at first, the Backstreet line illustrates how Americans only care about being entertained. Drop the bomb(s) anytime you want, just don’t pre-empt American Idol.

    Playlist!

  • Jello Biafra: One of the 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    Jello Biafra: One of the 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    Playlist!

    The NY Times recently published an interactive magazine article entitled The 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters. I was surprised to learn that Mariah Carey writes her own songs, including 18 of her 19 number one songs.

    The Times also published an accompanying article, inviting readers to vote for up to 10 people readers consider to be the greatest living American songwriters. There was also space for 200 words on the form, explaining why you chose the songwriters you did.

    Naturally Jello Biafra was not included in the Times’ list of The 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters, and also naturally I submitted 200 words explaining why the owner of the Alternative Tentacles record label, former frontman for Dead Kennedys and current prime mover behind the Guantanamo School of Medicine should be included.

    My submission to the Times is below. I could have easily written 2000 words instead of 200, so much was left out, including personal stories. For example, I didn’t mention that my dad, who was terrified of flying, had a very good laugh while reading People magazine’s review of the Dead Kennedys’ album Frankenchrist, especially the line:

    In lonely gas stations with minimarts
    You’ll find rows of them for sale:
    Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
    Screw his head off and drink like a vampire
    His disciples flock to such a fitting shrine
    Sprawled across from his ghastly mansion
    A shopping mall filled with prayer rugs and Elvis dolls

    And I wonder, yeah, I wonder
    Will Elvis take the place of Jesus in a thousand years?

    I wasn’t able to VOTE FOR JELLO when he ran for Mayor of San Francisco, and voting for him as one of The 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters doesn’t make up for that, but here is what I put on my ballot.

    Oh! But before we get to that, here is part of Jello’s platform from his mayoral campaign (he finished 4th with 3.79% of the vote):

    • Requiring businessmen to wear clown suits within city limits
    • Holding elections in which police would be voted into office by the neighborhoods they patrolled
    • Tearing down Pier 39
    • Legalizing squatting in vacant, tax-delinquent buildings
    • Paying the unemployed to panhandle in wealthy neighborhoods
    • Banning cars citywide, and
    • Erecting a statue of Dan White (who assassinated former Mayor George Moscone and Sup. Harvey Milk the previous year) and having the parks department sell eggs, stones, and tomatoes with which to pelt it.

    Jello Biafra: One of of The 30 Greatest Living American Songwriters

    Jello Biafra is best known as the frontman of Dead Kennedys, but he has been prolific since the band dissolved, recording music across various genres with many legendary musicians.

    From New Orleans-style “raunch and soul” to country to industry, and of course, more intelligent, scathing punk, Biafra has remained one of America’s most vital songwriters for 50 years.

    Jello reworked a Phil Ochs folk song on a country album he did with Mojo Nixon. He’s also released fantastic industrial music with Ministry’s Al Jourgensen.

    How many American songwriters can work authentically in so many genres?

    In 1999, Biafra formed a one-off supergroup that included Kim Thayil (Soundgarden) and
    Krist Novoselic (Nirvana) called NO WTO COMBO. The song titles alone sum up 2026:

    • Let’s Lynch the Landlord
    • New Feudalism
    • Electronic Plantation
    • Full Metal Jackoff

    Jello has been assaulted for his work, sued multiple times, and recently suffered a stroke, but he remains a vibrant, anti-corporate, think-for-yourself, AMERICAN songwriter:

    • Holiday in Cambodia
    • Stars and Stripes of Corruption
    • Pull My Strings
    • Kill the Poor
    • Trust Your Mechanic
    • Government Flu
    • The Power of Lard
    • Love Me, I’m a Liberal
    • Drug Raid at 4am
    • Nazi Punks Fuck Off
    • Bleed for Me
    • Too Drunk to Fuck

    Appendix (TFYQA):

    One of the things I wish I would have included in my submission was that Biafra doesn’t tell people how to think, he encourages people to think for themselves, as an actual person, unbrainwashed by Corporate Culture and Corporate Media.

    I had a hippy friend in high school who loved TFYQA which meant “Think for Yourself and Question Authority“.

    Few things infuriate me more than people saying “I can’t wait to see what SNL does with this!” after a
    big news event happening.

    Bragging that you can’t think for yourself and are part of the “amusing ourselves to death” problem?

    Playlist!

  • Up to Lexington, 125

    Up to Lexington, 125

    My friend sent me an AI version of Keef Richards singing “Up to Lexington, 125″, the famous line from the Lou Reed-penned song “Waiting for My Man”

    So why not tell my real life story of hanging out at Lexington, 125?

    My cousin and I hung out at Lexington/125 one time.

    It’s more Detroit than it is NYC. like 14 thousand lanes in each and every direction.

    So it is WIDE, man. Half a fucking mile to walk across the street in any direction.

    My cousin and I get off the subway, hit a convenience store, grab some beer, and head out.  He plugs his phone into the freebie charger. We drink beer on the corner, taking it all in.

    I forgot why we got off the subway at Lexington and 125, but it might have been to charge my cousin’s phone.

    Seriously, he was pulling this shit on me the entire weekend. Worse than a junky needing a fix, he needed his phone charged.

    There’s a convenience store there. Or at least there was in those days. We used it to grab some overpriced beer.

    So we’re sipping our suds, absorbing it all, taking it in. I’m loving it, feeling as comfortable as I am in Detroit. Home and Invincible.

    Suddenly, I don’t know WHAT started it, but my cousin gets into it with a small Latino guy.

    It may have been brown dude saying we white boys had no business hanging on that corner.

    My “Liberal cousin” getting into a race riot in The City. Poetic.

    It gets stupid and heated.

    The gf of the brown dude pulls him across the street.

    I pull my cousin across the street in the opposite direction, separating him from his antagonist, the angry brown guy.

    God bless Latino women

    The girlfriend and I make eye contact, totally bonding. I can feel her saying, “Thank you. Thank God these idiots of ours don’t have guns.”

    My eyes said the exact same right back to her.

    I’ve had a crush on that young woman and everything she represents ever since.

    Way before, actually!



  • Weather Report for April 14, 2026

    Weather Report for April 14, 2026

    Below me, the furnace roars, unstoppable. I am thankful for it.

    Surrounding me, a minimal skeleton of pipes and radiators occasionally clinks and knocks. Basic percussion that keeps me warm. I also give thanks to this 100-year-old artifact. The pipefitters, plumbers, miners, and foundry workers have all played a part in creating my life-sustaining apparatus, which will soon be deemed a criminal offence by the rainbows-and-unicorns crusaders. These visionaries, armed with their magical spreadsheets and TED Talks, believe that home heating is best accomplished through positive vibes, envisioning a future where self-righteous smugness powers the grid and regulatory poetry writes the laws of thermodynamics. I look forward to the day when a haiku will keep me from freezing.

    The Thunder on top of me belittles me

    To the east and above me, thunder. The same thunder that kept me awake most of the night is now sticking around to rub it in. It is bad enough to be lying on my back on the canvas—in this case, the imaginary boxing ring I always find myself in when sleep refuses to come—half wishing I were dead. It is worse to have the monster who knocked me out hovering over me, like a Canadian politician or something. Salt in my wounds, as the geezers used to croak hysterically drunk on themselves.

    The Bush outside Vampires me

    The bush outside my window is blooming, which annoys me to no end. Soon it will be growing with the relentless determination of a bad haircut, demanding trimming just when I’ve given up on caring for anything green or alive. Does it bear fruit? No, unless you count disappointment as a berry. Does it provide shade? Maybe for ants, or an exceptionally sun-sensitive bacterium. It isn’t even fragrant, unless one considers the lingering scent of futility a fragrance. I will give it this: it largely blocks the view of people outside trying to peek into my moaning sarcophagus, sparing them the performance art piece entitled “Why Is He Still Alive?”

    My own body betrays me

    Joining this symphony of despair is my own decrepit body. My thighs and calves scream, silent to the world but sharp and as overbearing as kettle drums to me. Like the pipes that heat my home, my bones clink and knock as they shift and scrape against each other, most of the joints long worn out.

    I’d sell my organs for coffee, if they were worth anything

    I am nearly out of coffee, and with shrinkflation, I will likely need to sell a kidney to buy more. Tragically, my kidneys are so far gone they might only fetch a handful of pocket lint and a coupon for a free consultation with a disgraced wellness guru. I will probably have to bribe those people who take old mattresses away for $89 to remove my organic blood filters, and even then, they’ll groan and say it’s an extra fee if the kidneys are leaking. If that fails, I’ll list my spleen on the local classified site in exchange for a single-use coffee pod and see if someone counter-offers with a slightly used gallbladder.

    Yeah, I got your silver lining right here:

    And speaking of The Weather Report, I found out yesterday that there is a Jaco Pastorius Park in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, USA.

    Also, that vampire bush seems to be the most popular hangout for birds for meters around, including a cardinal couple.

    So the world isn’t all bad, I guess.