palabras

I don't post on here much anymore...

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 23:35:02 GMT

Drifted away from Tribe. I'm cool with Tribe, but wow, guess I just spend more time elsewhere. All the "down for maintenance" notifications kind of turned me off. Glad to see it's still around, though.

I always wanted to play in the Minor League...

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 17:14:04 GMT

Well, not really. But this morning I wore my Louisville Bats hat and t-shirt on a trip to the free health clinic. While waiting for my appointment in the lobby, a woman asks me, "Excuse me, do you play for the Bats?" I reply with some sarcasm, "Oh, yeah. Brian Lopez, #74, I play shortstop." She exclaims, "I thought you looked familiar! Hey, Rico, come over here," she waved who I assume is her son- no older than 7- to us and says, "Rico, this is Brian Lopez. He's a famous baseball player! You like baseball, don't you, tell the man." He nods enthusiastically and says, "Hello, Mr. Lopez." While the Minor League probably doesn't pay its players exceptionally well, I imagine they do have some health care that tops the free health clinic. But neither the woman or the child question that. We talk for a minute about baseball and then I'm called in for my appointment. I felt initially kind of bad that I didn't clear things up and confess, that no, I'm simply wearing Bats merchandise and in fact my skill when it comes to baseball sucks goat balls. But fuck it, I made their day. And that kind of made my day too. http://louisville.bats.milb.com/index.jsp?sid=t416

Rest In Peace, Antoinette K-Doe

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 20:25:16 GMT

Antoinette K-Doe, the irrepressible widow of rhythm & blues singer Ernie K-Doe who transformed the Mother-in-Law Lounge into a living shrine and community center, died early Tuesday after suffering a massive heart attack. She was 66. "It was her personal mission to keep his memory alive," said Ben Sandmel, who is writing a biography of Ernie K-Doe. "But she also did so much for the community. It's a huge loss for the whole musicians' community of New Orleans." Born Antoinette Dorsey, Mrs. K-Doe was a cousin of rhythm & blues singer Lee Dorsey. She had known Ernie K-Doe for many years before they became a couple around 1990. At the time, the singer's best days were far behind him. After a string of hits in the early 1960s, most notably "Mother-in-Law," his career, and life bottomed out. By sheer force of will, she helped him return to the stage and transform himself into an icon of eclectic New Orleans. The couple married in 1994. "She had him on a short leash," Sandmel said. "She cleaned him up and opened the lounge to give him a place to play." Ernie K-Doe died in 2001. But thanks to his wife, he maintained a schedule of public appearances via a life-size, fully costumed, look-alike mannequin. Mrs. K-Doe referred to the mannequin as "Ernie." As the mother hen of the Mother-in-Law Lounge, she presided over one of the city's most diverse, funky-but-chic watering holes. With its vibrant, larger-than-life exterior murals and adjoining gardens, the Lounge stood out on an otherwise rough stretch of North Claiborne Avenue. As the Ernie mannequin looked on from its corner throne, Mrs. K-Doe served a mix of neighborhood regulars and hipsters from across the city. The Lounge was a favorite haunt of such non-traditional musicians as Mr. Quintron, the Bywater avant-garde keyboardist, inventor and marching band impresario. The Lounge badly flooded in the wake of Hurricane Katrina's levee breaches. In advance of the floodwaters, Mrs. K-Doe dismantled the mannequin, stored the pieces in plastic bags, and stowed them in an upstairs closet. In the months after the storm, she revived the Lounge with the aid of an army of volunteers and financial support from contemporary R&B star Usher. Mrs. K-Doe suffered a minor heart attack during Mardi Gras 2008, but recovered. On Thursday, she rode in the Muses parade with the Ernie mannequin. She served as the honorary queen of the Cameltoe Ladysteppers marching organization. Today she had planned to don the traditional Baby Doll costume and parade through the streets of Treme before returning to the lounge for what is always a busy day. She helped revive the tradition of the Baby Dolls marching organization, and was happy to see others take up the mantle. Michelle Longino, a founder of the Bayou Steppers Social Aid and Pleasure Club, received Mrs. K-Doe's blessing to costume as a Baby Doll and come out with Mardi Gras Indian Big Chief Monk Boudreaux on Mardi Gras morning. "She told us that we needed to be proper Baby Dolls, not nasty Baby Dolls," Longino said. "Today we're going to call ourselves the Antoinette K-Doe Baby Dolls in her honor." Around 3 a.m. Mardi Gras morning, Mrs. K-Doe awoke in her apartment above the Mother-in-Law Lounge and complained of feeling hot, said Gary Hughes, the husband of her adopted daughter, Jackie Coleman. She went downstairs and apparently suffered a heart attack on a sofa in the lounge. Hughes, who was staying in the apartment at the time, said paramedics arrived quickly but could not revive Mrs. K-Doe. Today's festivities at the Mother-in-Law Lounge will be in her honor. "Mardi Gras was her holiday," Hughes said. "She loved Mardi Gras. We're going to run the lounge as if she was here and do it up this one last time for her." Funeral arrangements are incomplete. taken from: http://www.nola.com/news/index.ssf/2009/02/antoinette_kdoe_dies_on_mardi.html

getting my hands on self-production, your opionion, please

NonValidePourVoyager — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 18:34:17 GMT

Just to let you know I'm not dead and really working on my record: I uploaded an instrumental track in progress for the song, "Underdog Rock," which will be on my upcoming album. This is not the final track by any stretch and I'm fairly new to production, so I'm still getting a hang on making beats. Go to www.myspace.com/donlibido , give the track a listen, let me know what you really think (I have a thick skin). Thanks ahead, Brian sometimes AKA Brian Pelican, Don Libido (R.I.P.), Sir Francis McNasty, or the only Atheist Buddhist Libertarian emcee you know

It’s my birthday today (or, the past month in Louisville, driving in snow and knowing what it means to miss New Orleans)

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 18 Nov 2008 08:29:09 GMT

“When you want to start planning on building your career, family and future beyond next week, how ‘cool’ the city you live in means less to you. Or 'cool' starts to mean ‘Hey, people here don't try to mug me/shoot me/rob my apartment/get drunk and hit my car every 5 minutes!’” – Amy J. (former co-worker and friend, discussing my then upcoming move from NOLA to Louisville, 9/10/08) Been living in Louisville for just over a month now. Still adjusting to the culture shock (while New Orleans is within the United States, obviously, New Orleans is more the European black sheep of the American family). Missing my regular group of friends terribly. Had thought several times over, now, “What the fuck have I done?! New Orleans is my home. This new land is just fucking strange.” And by strange I don’t mean bad. Just strange. I lived here for several months back when I was a teenager and thought a life here would/could be nice. And it might still be. But damn I have my moments of fear. I panic. Between wanting to fit in with the new city, but scared of losing my New Orleanian identity. I went native during my fourth year there and scarred my body in my eighth year with a fleur de lis tattoo to mark my lifelong love affair with NOLA. And I find it hilarious that Louisville also claims the fleur de lis as the city logo. Can never escape it, I reckon. And I write this knowing that, yeah, to a degree I do take New Orleans with me no matter where I live, but not walking those streets these days does bring me down a bit. Still getting text messages from folks who apparently don’t know that I’ve left: “What are you up to tonight? I need a drink.” “I’m fucking drunk. Brian. You douchebag asshole cockeater. Bar?” “Need a ride to the Bionik Brown tribute show?” And so on. My drinking has cut down considerably. I mean, Jesus, in the past few weeks I’ve had a total of about six beers and finished off only a couple 750 ml bottles of Bacardi. That just ain’t right. My average week consisted of a beer or two after work each day and then the weekend binge. But yeah, getting wasted doesn’t interest me anymore. Neither do any of the other habits I once had in NOLA. I don’t think I’ll ever NOT be interested in having a beer or two to relax, but having one of ‘those nights’ that I will forevermore tie to New Orleans is unlikely these days. Part of this not returning to my former ways is the new domesticated lifestyle I’m living, which includes taking care of a very energetic toddler. Even just earlier this year, if you would have asked me about how I felt about being a dad (albeit NOT the biological father but guardian all the same) I don’t know how I would have responded. That written, I’ve wanted a son and/or daughter for the past several years now. And today, November 18th, I’m 34 years old. This acknowledgement of aging shapes my perception, my needs and my actions. And the next logical action for a beneficial future was this move to Louisville with my girlfriend and her beautiful and fascinating kid. And New Orleans is no place to raise a little kid. Fuck it, there, I wrote it. Might think differently if I weren’t broke, but eh… Living on my own in NOLA, yeah, I could do it, but I was just barely getting by. And my all night adventures there were getting to be a broken record. Though I also felt as if time stood still…or at least time sauntered a bit for me this past decade. For the years of age I feel typing this out, back in NOLA I felt considerably younger most days. I attribute much of this to the lack of age perception held by New Orleanians in general. In other places- at least other places in which I’ve lived- the elderly are racing to death and all ready, happy and shit to meet up with Jesus and spend eternity farting in the clouds. You’re old, well shit, it’s time to die, I guess. New Orleanians take their time getting to that finish line and frankly, IF that particular finish line even exists is a moot point; enjoy life, it’s short, dahlin’ (as an aside, my Atheism was never an issue in NOLA, here, eh, I think it might be, anyhow…). It was quite common to be at a bar, club, any type of social event and the age range of people there varied considerably. I loved that. The constant cycle of festivals and celebration in general sure helped preserve the youthful vigor, too. Perhaps that even trumps/spawned the lack of age discrimination. I’m writing too much about this now. I’ll focus on what made New Orleans to me in a future essay/blog/book. I felt some pain getting my Kentucky drivers license and voter registration yesterday (made things official: I now live in Jefferson County and am a Kentucky Libertarian…whoa). The DMV wouldn’t let me keep my old license. Normally I wouldn’t care about keeping an expired license except that this particular one had my old 9th Ward address on it (never changed it from my move in the Bywater to Uptown NOLA in 2006, I have too many precious memories tied to my Poland Ave. address: married there, my reptilian son was buried in that backyard, I lived and died there a few times). But don’t take this as me throwing in the towel regarding this switch up from my home to what may be a very extended stay in Louisville. Not at all. Louisville is a fascinating city. I look forward to getting involved in the local politics, read up on its history, walk the streets, make friends with those who were born and raised here, etc. I want to soak in as much of this as possible. It’s in my blood to a degree (my mother’s side of the family is here and has been for quite some time). Seems only right to embrace this part of my bloodline’s past. Plus the University of Louisville, yeah, I’d like to continue my education there. It started snowing yesterday as I sat with Corinna in a Taco Bell drive-thru off Dixie Highway. Snow is unusual for me. I never experienced it, much. I watched the flakes land on the windshield and kept telling Corinna, “It’s fucking snow! What the fuck!?” I’m originally from Los Angeles and despite my multiple trips throughout America, I haven’t really faced any snow while driving. Wanted to keep my window down as we pulled away from Taco Bell to get on the highway, but Corinna was freezing. Snowflakes did not live up to my expectations (seriously, the depiction of snowflakes in cartoons is pure bullshit). All the same I found them interesting. Seriously interesting. Snow is like rain with parachutes. Later that night- a cold fucking night, I HAVEN’T WORN THIS MUCH THERMAL UNDERWEAR IN MY ENTIRE LIFE- I had to go pick up Corinna from work. Walking out to the driveway I noticed a thin layer of ice on the hood of the car and the window was covered in what looked like simple rain drops. I get in the car, turn the ignition, turn on my radio and the heat, wait a minute for the car to warm up a bit, and while listening to the new Girl Talk CD (highly fucking recommended, by the way, the music that is, not the rest of this mess) turn on my windshield wipers to rid of the raindrops. Giant fucking smear is created. The ice and not exactly ice spreads across the windshield like a herpes outbreak on a bad day. I can’t see properly. I get out of the car, curse aloud and wipe the windshield with the sleeve of my Serendipity Project hoodie. Climb back in the car. Switch the CD from Girl Talk to Mos Def. Back out of the driveway and head for the Watterson Expressway (264 East). On the highway I’m trapped a bit by traffic but not too worried. I’m on the far right lane. To my immediate left is a huge fucking truck. To my front is an SUV, converted to be a cab. Behind me is some compact car. The huge fucking truck signals that it’s getting in my lane, WHILE I’M IN THE SPACE THAT HE INTENDS TO OCCUPY. The SUV doesn’t speed up enough for me to get in front in time and the car behind me doesn’t give me enough space to decelerate. I start honking to show, “Hey, truck driver! I’m right the fuck here, you asshole douchebag cocksuck cunt shit motherfuck!” (and yes, the horn makes that specific sound). But he doesn’t get it. So I do what I must: swerve off the highway to the side and ride some grass as I slow down properly. My heart races for a few. The car is stopped. I sit there. Mos Def continues his rap unabated. I laugh a bit, though I don’t find anything particularly funny. Turn up the song and get back on the road. Less than a minute later Corinna calls me to check in on my ETA. Give my best guess, hang up and continue my scan for Exit 20. I just looked at my left wrist. It has a scar from when I rode my bicycle home short bus drunk from Handsome Willys one night and crashed into a parked car. It was about 3 AM or so. Nobody around to catch my antics. Eventually got home and fell fast asleep on my futon…and bled on the sheets (due to leg and arm wounds). Awoke with blood stained sheets and a massive hangover…ah… Those were the days. But I think some new and interesting experiences await me here. If Louisville doesn’t work out and returning to New Orleans isn’t an option (and that may very well be, really, the levees ain’t and the fed gov ain’t, either), I have three other American cities in mind to make a move to: Seattle, Philadelphia or New York (preferably Brooklyn). If the United States doesn’t work out: Berlin, Helsinki or somewhere in Australia. If Earth doesn’t work out... My name is written in my journey.

The King in Yellow Returns

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 29 Jul 2008 17:00:20 GMT

Woke up around 4 AM this morning, after what was a series of nightmares. I jotted down several notes, things that stuck out or that I felt I’d forget later but probably should remember. Definitely one of my more interesting dreams in months. The following is from those notes. Awoke abruptly, the room seemed far too bright to still be nighttime and I feared that I slept through my alarm and missed my ride to work. The lighting, however, wasn’t right for any time of day. Artificial twilight. So I looked to my alarm clock and couldn’t read the numbers. They were just scrambled. Studying this I then noticed from my periphery stood a figure near the entrance to my apartment, but I could only see him from the corner of my eye. When I’d attempt to look directly at him, he’d shift positions so that he always remained just out of dead on focus. My heart started racing. I wanted to yell, “Who the fuck are you?!” but couldn’t open my mouth to form the words and instead made a series of guttural sounds. My pocket knife rested next to my computer, which is next to my futon where I laid. Thought to just leap up, grab the knife and stab him. But when I made to move I found that aside from my head, the remainder of my body refused to cooperate. He came closer to me. He smelled of cinnamon and was dressed in shadows, that is, I couldn’t tell what he was wearing because the shadows would cater to his movement. I wanted to scream. He put his index finger to my lips and disappeared. I then sat up and realized my t-shirt and boxers were soaked in sweat. I noticed two rats on the floor, in front of the television and staring at me. One is a large black rat, female. The other, a tiny white rat, also female. They were clean rats, ones you’d purchase at a pet store. I picked them both up. The smaller white rat ran up my left arm and snuggled herself in where my neck and collar meet. I could feel her heartbeat and tilted my head to the left while raising my shoulder to give her a tiny squeeze, just enough to let her know she’s welcome there. I held the larger black rat with both hands. She stares at me. She wants to go outside, I think. I walk over to the entrance of my apartment, shifted the rat’s weight from both hands to just holding her with my right so I’d be free to open the door, and as I’m turning the knob she bites me on the index finger. I curse and put her back down on the floor. She darts across the room, back to the futon. The tiny white rat runs down my body and follows the black rat. They both rest on a pillow. I then sense the figure dressed in shadows again. He’s in my restroom. This time I do grab my knife and walk in. Nobody is there. What is in there, however, is another door, one that only exists “when the stars are right.” I open that door and walk through. I’m outside and where what appears to be the school I attended in the 3rd and 4th grade (Field Elementary, which by the way was demolished several years back in real life, the last time I went to California I visited Field to discover it had been turned into a field. Really. Funny, that). It’s still artificial twilight outside. The school rests in the middle of a desert. I don’t see this but know that’s the case. There are people here, many people, mostly inside the school cafeteria. I think this place is no longer a school but a hippy commune. That just seems like what it is, but maybe a little more like the Manson era Spahn Ranch. The people here just don’t seem right. Walking into the cafeteria I am greeted by L. (the girl I had the pregnancy scare with last year in real life). She appears physically sick. Actually, everyone seems a little sick. I think that maybe it’s an infirmary but that doesn’t seem right. No, it’s more like a little hippy commune. L. and I talk. “Why are you here?” she asks. “I came through the door because the stars are right.” “They’re never right, but I’m glad you’re still reading Chambers.” [note: Robert Chambers wrote the King in Yellow, the only book to ever give me bizarre dreams. Very Lovecraftian, in fact it influenced Lovecraft’s Cthulu Myhos] “Yeah, well I do what I can, right?” She mumbles something that sounds English but wasn’t, like I should understand her but don’t. I ask her to repeat herself. “Brian, what if you were to just take me right here? Right on the table? Nobody cares. You’re in a Free Zone right now, not even Kraig would mind.” I think Kraig is her boyfriend. He’s also somehow a leader within this community, but not THE leader. And upon that revelation I also understand that this isn’t a group of hippies, but zombies. I want to laugh initially, because zombies never scared me before, in fact I find the whole thought of zombies to be funny. I’ve entered a bad 70s horror movie. Awesome. But then the thought really sinks in: I’m surrounded by zombies. Whoa. But I don’t overreact. I also understand that as long as I remain calm, none of zombies will attack me. They’ll think I’m just one of them, just not as sickly looking. L. takes my hand and walks me out of the cafeteria. She asks me again if I’d like to. I tell her that I’m in a relationship. She says, “But you were always against monogamy. You said it’s unnatural for humans to be that way.” I reply, “Yeah, monogamy is unnatural, but humans do unnatural things all the time and sometimes it’s in their best interest. Heck, love is unnatural; it’s the mutant byproduct of poetry and mathematics.” She smiled, “They’re never right, but I’m glad you’re still reading Chambers.” She kisses me on the forehead. I wake up.

Of Atheism...

NonValidePourVoyager — Mon, 23 Jun 2008 22:47:10 GMT

The following definition of Atheism was given to the Supreme Court of the United States in the case of Murray v. Curlett, 374 U.S. 203, 83 S. Ct. 1560, 10 L.Ed.2d (MD, 1963), to remove reverential Bible reading and oral unison recitation of the Lord's Prayer in the public schools. “Your petitioners are Atheists and they define their beliefs as follows. An Atheist loves his fellow man instead of god. An Atheist believes that heaven is something for which we should work now – here on earth for all men together to enjoy. An Atheist believes that he can get no help through prayer but that he must find in himself the inner conviction, and strength to meet life, to grapple with it, to subdue it and enjoy it. An Atheist believes that only in a knowledge of himself and a knowledge of his fellow man can he find the understanding that will help to a life of fulfillment. He seeks to know himself and his fellow man rather than to know a god. An Atheist believes that a hospital should be built instead of a church. An Atheist believes that a deed must be done instead of a prayer said. An Atheist strives for involvement in life and not escape into death. He wants disease conquered, poverty vanquished, war eliminated. He wants man to understand and love man. He wants an ethical way of life. He believes that we cannot rely on a god or channel action into prayer nor hope for an end of troubles in a hereafter. He believes that we are our brother's keepers; and are keepers of our own lives; that we are responsible persons and the job is here and the time is now.” Taken from: http://www.atheists.org/Atheism/

Sarcasm Seen as Evolutionary Survival Skill

NonValidePourVoyager — Fri, 20 Jun 2008 16:22:49 GMT

Sarcasm Seen as Evolutionary Survival Skill Meredith F. Small LiveScience's Human Nature Columnist LiveScience.com 2 hours, 32 minutes ago Humans are fundamentally social animals. Our social nature means that we interact with each other in positive, friendly ways, and it also means we know how to manipulate others in a very negative way. Neurophysiologist Katherine Rankin at the University of California, San Francisco, has also recently discovered that sarcasm, which is both positively funny and negatively nasty, plays an important part in human social interaction. So what? I mean really, who cares? Oh for God's sake. Don't you have anything better to do that read this column? According to Dr. Rankin, if you didn't get the sarcastic tone of the previous sentences you must have some damage to your parahippocampal gyrus which is located in the right brain. People with dementia, or head injuries in that area, often lose the ability to pick up on sarcasm, and so they don't respond in a socially appropriate ways. Presumably, this is a pathology, which in turn suggests that sarcasm is part of human nature and probably an evolutionarily good thing. How might something so, well, sarcastic as sarcasm, be part of the human social toolbox? Evolutionary biologists claim that sociality is what has made humans such a successful species. We are masters at what anthropologists and others call "social intelligence." We recognize and keep track of hundreds of relationships, and we easily distinguish between enemies and friends. More important, we run our lives by social calculation. A favor is mentally recorded and paid back, sometimes many years later. Likewise, insults are marked down on the mental score card in indelible ink. And we are constantly bickering and making up, even with people we love. Sarcasm, then, is a verbal hammer that connects people in both a negative and positive way. We know that sense of humor is important to relationships; if someone doesn't get your jokes, they aren't likely to be your friend (or at least that's my bottom line about friendship). Sarcasm is simply humor's dark side, and it would be just as disconcerting if a friend didn't get your snide remarks. It's also easy to imagine how sarcasm might be selected over time as evolutionarily crucial. Imagine two ancient humans running across the savannah with a hungry lion in pursuit. One guy says to the other, "Are we having fun yet?" and the other just looks blank and stops to figure out what in the world his pal meant by that remark. End of friendship, end of one guy's contribution to the future of the human gene pool. Fast forward a few million years and the network of human relationships is wider and more complex, and just as important to survival. The corporate chairman throws out a sarcastic remark and those who "get" it laugh, smile, and gain favor. In the same way, if the chair never makes a remark, sarcastic people are making them behind his or her back, forming a clique by their mutually negative, but funny, comments. Either way, sarcasm plays a role in making and breaking alliances and friendship. Thanks goodness, because life without out sarcasm would be a dull and way too nice place to be, if you ask me. Taken from: http://news.yahoo.com/s/livescience/20080620/sc_livescience/sarcasmseenasevolutionarysurvivalskill

Just a little more to disturb you...

NonValidePourVoyager — Wed, 11 Jun 2008 16:34:07 GMT

OVER A BARREL By ARIEL COHEN May 11, 2008 -- As you go deeper into debt filling up your tank with $4 gas this weekend, look on the bright side - you're helping to fund countries that hate you. From Russia to Iran to Venezuela, America's adversaries are splurging on oil windfalls, while programs directed against Uncle Sam and his allies are funded by petroleum revenues. Big bucks are allowing the oil sultans and dictators to intimidate US allies, buy politicians and academics, and purchase election outcomes. Oil prices are going up partly because of supply and speculation - but also because these countries can decide to punish the US or limit our influence, particularly when they disagree with policies toward Iraq and Israel. Part of the reason they can do this is that governments of the Oil Producing and Exporting Countries (OPEC) cartel, and the non-cartel producers like Russia, make sure that international oil companies do not own reserves in the ground. Exxon, for instance, spent only 4 percent of its exploration budget in the Middle East last year - local governments do not allow Western companies to take control of their own destiny. Thus, the global oil production is at the mercy of opaque and corrupt national oil companies, while the governments that own them enjoy skyrocketing oil prices and the growing, mindboggling wealth. The revenues of the major oil producing countries have quadrupled in three years. Since 9/11, oil prices have more than quintupled. This year Europe and the US will spend approximately $2 trillion on imported oil, while the world will spend close to $3 trillion. This money recycles back to the US and the West, often in the most legitimate ways. Sovereign Investment Funds have acquired large chunks of America's financial flagships: Citigroup, Merrill Lynch, Morgan Stanley, Blackstone and the Carlyle Group. A foreign government acquiring a serious stake in US corporate gems can influence US policies in the Middle East and elsewhere. The oil sheikhs can "tweak" attitudes towards extremism and terrorism, and buy access to politicians through lobbying and campaign contributions. In the future, these funds may acquire defense and technology flagships: Boeing, General Electric, Lockheed Martin and others, or go after primary media assets, from CNN to FOX. However, oil revenues may be used in much more sinister ways. Money can buy nuclear weapons programs, ballistic missile arsenals, and other arms. It can also pay for terrorist armies. Today's attempt to overthrow the pro-American government in Lebanon is bankrolled by Iran. Hezbollah is a wholly-owned Iranian subsidiary. Its chief has the official title of the "representative of Iran's Supreme Leader" in Lebanon. Iran paid for the 27,000 rockets Hezbollah has aimed at Israel. Iran also buys Hamas weapons and popularity in Gaza. In a recent children's TV broadcast by Hamas' Al Aqsa TV, a "Hamasnik" boy is shown assassinating President George W. Bush in the Oval Office and declaring that the White House will be turned into a mosque. Money may not buy you love, but it sure pays for propaganda. Al Jazeera, the Qatari Arabic and English language TV is a propaganda arm with global reach. Viciously anti-American, it talks to tens of millions of Arabic speaking Muslims worldwide, as well as audiences in Pakistan, India, London and Detroit. Saudi Arabia, the cradle of Salafi-Jihadi ideology known as Wahhabism, is financing hundreds of religious seminaries (madrassahs), educating generations of US-hating and anti-Semitic Muslim extremists from Michigan to Manila. Some of them will pick up arms to fight the US and its allies in Iraq and Afghanistan. Wahhabis deny other religions the right to exist in dignity, as a recent religious ruling (fatwa) in Saudi Arabia demonstrated. Two journalists who argued for tolerance were sentenced to death. In the US a majority of mosques partake of Saudi and Gulf largesse. The Saudis often provide religious leaders (imams), textbooks and curricula, to Muslim communities and schools. There is little to no control as far as the content of the teachings or school books, but a Freedom House study found that these are anti-Christian, anti-Jewish, anti-American and anti-Israel. Despite trips by President George Bush and Vice President Cheney, Saudi Arabia refuses to increase output - and why would they? They can use it as leverage to get their way, particularly in Israel. Riyyadh also employs an army of lobbyists and other "influencers" in Washington, London, Brussels and elsewhere around the world. These shadow mercenaries promote a benign image for the Kingdom. They appear on TV, write newspaper and journal articles, direct university programs on Islamic or Middle Eastern studies. Saudi princes have poured tens of millions into prestigious universities, from Georgetown and Harvard to Cambridge and Edinburgh. Former senior government officials and ambassadors are on the royal payroll influencing their colleagues in the diplomatic service. This is how the Saudi "peace plan" calling for undermining Israel through a massive influx of Palestinian "refugees" received US support at the highest levels. This is how the Carter Center in Atlanta ended up taking millions in Gulf oil money. This is why Jimmy Carter looks like he's shilling for the Iranian-Saudi client, Hamas. If all this were not enough, Hugo Chavez, the socialist-fascist ruler of Venezuela, is spending billions in dollar oil subsidies to assemble an empire of dependencies in Latin America. According to evidence on a laptop taken from a dead guerilla leader in the neighboring Ecuador, Chavez supports the FARC narco-guerillas who are attempting to overthrow the democratically-elected government of President Alvaro Uribe of Colombia. Chavez, an ally of Iranian president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, provides cheap oil and loans to Daniel Ortega and his wife, the Sandinista rulers of Nicaragua. Chavez also supports leftist leaders and forces in Cuba, Ecuador, Bolivia and Paraguay. Their intent is to deny the US influence and allies in South America, and ease the way for an Iranian-Hezbollah penetration of the Southern Cone. Russian leaders, more anti-American today than ever, have written the book on using money and energy muscle to buy friends and influence neighbors. They made an example out of Ukraine, by cutting gas supply to it on New Year's Day for four days. They also intimidated France and Germany into bucking the US at the Bucharest NATO summit and objecting to Georgia and Ukraine being issued a North Atlantic Treaty Association membership plan. Russia's Gazprom has hired former German Chancellor Gerhardt Schroeder as the Chairman of a pipeline consortium, and made a similar offer to former Italian Prime Minister and the top Eurocrat Romano Prodi. Vladimir Putin does brisk energy business with Silvio Berlusconi, and with the French President Nicolas Sarcozy, though both are considered pro-American. German businessmen enthusiastically lobby Chancellor Angela Merkel on the Kremlin's behalf. Russia, some argue, has more clout today in Europe than Washington. Finally, Iran, Russia, Venezuela, and even US friend Kuwait are dumping the greenback in favor of the Euro in energy transactions. This is likely to decrease demand and increase the supply of dollars, sending the US currency into a tailspin. Weaker dollars and higher inflation may add insult to injury in the prolonged process of America's economic deterioration. To stave it off and to combat its oil-rich adversaries, the US needs, in the short term, to expand its domestic energy sector. Increasing oil and gas production in the West, along the Pacific and Atlantic continental shelf, and in Alaska will help, and so will a coal and nuclear power build-up. The US Congress should also abolish corn ethanol subsidy and lift tariffs on the really competitive ethanol made from sugar cane. Brazil and Africa can produce more ethanol than Iowa and Nebraska. However, in the long term, more advanced technological solutions are vital to stem the global wealth redistribution to OPEC potentates and other America-haters. World powers have risen and fallen over major economic factors. This should never be the case of our nation. The oil potentates should know that the US will not be intimidated - or bankrupted out of existence. --- Ariel Cohen, Ph.D., is Senior Research Fellow in International Energy Security at The Heritage Foundation and the author of The Real World, a weekly column published in The Middle East Times. Article taken from: http://www.nypost.com/php/pfriendly/print.php?url=http://www.nypost.com/seven/05112008/postopinion/opedcolumnists/over_a_barrel_110289.htm

disgusted

NonValidePourVoyager — Fri, 30 May 2008 22:38:38 GMT

Please read the following blog... http://undergroundunbeliever.blogspot.com/2008/05/some-exciting-newsabout-ad.html I don't even know what to say that hasn't already been addressed on the blog or the subsequent comments on that blog. I'm just...fucking shocked.

10 Surprising Health Benefits of Sex

NonValidePourVoyager — Fri, 16 May 2008 14:44:55 GMT

The health benefits of sex extend well beyond the bedroom. Turns out sex is good for you in ways you may never have imagined. By Kathleen Doheny When you're in the mood, it's a sure bet that the last thing on your mind is boosting your immune system or maintaining a healthy weight. Yet good sex offers those health benefits and more. That's a surprise to many people, says Joy Davidson, PhD, a New York psychologist and sex therapist. "Of course, sex is everywhere in the media," she says. "But the idea that we are vital, sexual creatures is still looked at in some cases with disgust or in other cases a bit of embarrassment. So to really take a look at how our sexuality adds to our life and enhances our life and our health, both physical and psychological, is eye-opening for many people." Sex does a body good in a number of ways, according to Davidson and other experts. The benefits aren't just anecdotal or hearsay -- each of these 10 health benefits of sex is backed by scientific scrutiny. Among the benefits of healthy loving in a relationship: 1. Sex Relieves Stress A big health benefit of sex is lower blood pressure and overall stress reduction, according to researchers from Scotland who reported their findings in the journal Biological Psychology. They studied 24 women and 22 men who kept records of their sexual activity. Then the researchers subjected them to stressful situations -- such as speaking in public and doing verbal arithmetic -- and noted their blood pressure response to stress. Those who had intercourse had better responses to stress than those who engaged in other sexual behaviors or abstained. Another study published in the same journal found that frequent intercourse was associated with lower diastolic blood pressure in cohabiting participants. Yet other research found a link between partner hugs and lower blood pressure in women. 2. Sex Boosts Immunity Good sexual health may mean better physical health. Having sex once or twice a week has been linked with higher levels of an antibody called immunoglobulin A or IgA, which can protect you from getting colds and other infections. Scientists at Wilkes University in Wilkes-Barre, Pa., took samples of saliva, which contain IgA, from 112 college students who reported the frequency of sex they had. Those in the "frequent" group -- once or twice a week -- had higher levels of IgA than those in the other three groups -- who reported being abstinent, having sex less than once a week, or having it very often, three or more times weekly. 3. Sex Burns Calories Thirty minutes of sex burns 85 calories or more. It may not sound like much, but it adds up: 42 half-hour sessions will burn 3,570 calories, more than enough to lose a pound. Doubling up, you could drop that pound in 21 hour-long sessions. "Sex is a great mode of exercise," says Patti Britton, PhD, a Los Angeles sexologist and president of the American Association of Sexuality Educators and Therapists. It takes work, from both a physical and psychological perspective, to do it well, she says. 4. Sex Improves Cardiovascular Health While some older folks may worry that the efforts expended during sex could cause a stroke, that's not so, according to researchers from England. In a study published in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health, scientists found frequency of sex was not associated with stroke in the 914 men they followed for 20 years. And the heart health benefits of sex don't end there. The researchers also found that having sex twice or more a week reduced the risk of fatal heart attack by half for the men, compared with those who had sex less than once a month. 5. Sex Boosts Self-Esteem Boosting self-esteem was one of 237 reasons people have sex, collected by University of Texas researchers and published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior. That finding makes sense to Gina Ogden, PhD, a sex therapist and marriage and family therapist in Cambridge, Mass., although she finds that those who already have self-esteem say they sometimes have sex to feel even better. "One of the reasons people say they have sex is to feel good about themselves," she tells WebMD. "Great sex begins with self-esteem, and it raises it. If the sex is loving, connected, and what you want, it raises it." 6. Sex Improves Intimacy Having sex and orgasms increases levels of the hormone oxytocin, the so-called love hormone, which helps us bond and build trust. Researchers from the University of Pittsburgh and the University of North Carolina evaluated 59 premenopausal women before and after warm contact with their husbands and partners ending with hugs. They found that the more contact, the higher the oxytocin levels. "Oxytocin allows us to feel the urge to nurture and to bond," Britton says. Higher oxytocin has also been linked with a feeling of generosity. So if you're feeling suddenly more generous toward your partner than usual, credit the love hormone. 7. Sex Reduces Pain As the hormone oxytocin surges, endorphins increase, and pain declines. So if your headache, arthritis pain, or PMS symptoms seem to improve after sex, you can thank those higher oxytocin levels. In a study published in the Bulletin of Experimental Biology and Medicine, 48 volunteers who inhaled oxytocin vapor and then had their fingers pricked lowered their pain threshold by more than half. 8. Sex Reduces Prostate Cancer Risk Frequent ejaculations, especially in 20-something men, may reduce the risk of prostate cancer later in life, Australian researchers reported in the British Journal of Urology International. When they followed men diagnosed with prostate cancer and those without, they found no association of prostate cancer with the number of sexual partners as the men reached their 30s, 40s, and 50s. But they found men who had five or more ejaculations weekly while in their 20s reduced their risk of getting prostate cancer later by a third. Another study, reported in the Journal of the American Medical Association, found that frequent ejaculations, 21 or more a month, were linked to lower prostate cancer risk in older men, as well, compared with less frequent ejaculations of four to seven monthly. 9. Sex Strengthens Pelvic Floor Muscles For women, doing a few pelvic floor muscle exercises known as Kegels during sex offers a couple of benefits. You will enjoy more pleasure, and you'll also strengthen the area and help to minimize the risk of incontinence later in life. To do a basic Kegel exercise, tighten the muscles of your pelvic floor, as if you're trying to stop the flow of urine. Count to three, then release. 10. Sex Helps You Sleep Better The oxytocin released during orgasm also promotes sleep, according to research. And getting enough sleep has been linked with a host of other good things, such as maintaining a healthy weight and blood pressure. Something to think about, especially if you've been wondering why your guy can be active one minute and snoring the next. *** Taken from: http://www.webmd.com/sex-relationships/features/10-surprising-health-benefits-of-sex

may not be entirely true, but amusing all the same...

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 15 May 2008 22:53:21 GMT

From a forwarded email I received today... Fun facts from infection control: After just one hour swimming at a municipal pool you will ingest 1/12 liter of urine. In an average day your hands will have come into indirect contact with 15 penises (touching door handles, etc.) An average person's yearly fast food intake will contain 12 pubic hairs. Annually you will shake hands with 11 women who have recently masturbated and failed to wash their hands. Annually you will shake hands with 6 men who have recently masturbated and failed to wash their hands. In a lifetime 22 workmen will have examined the contents of your dirty linen basket. At an average wedding reception you have a 1/100 chance of getting a cold sore from one of the guests. Daily you will breath in 1 liter of other peoples' anal gases.

Chris Paul will honor a boy whose wish to see the Hornets went unfulfilled

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 08 May 2008 15:09:38 GMT

The following made me cry. Felt the need to share: *** Chris Paul will honor a boy whose wish to see the Hornets went unfulfilled Thursday, May 08, 2008 By Katy Reckdahl Staff writer Before tonight's playoff game, New Orleans Hornets superstar point guard Chris Paul will write the name "Brian" on his shoes, paying tribute to an 8-year-old fan who died Monday night before he could meet his basketball hero. Brian, who had cancer, wore his Chris Paul jersey nonstop, said Michael McMyne, president of A Child's Wish of Greater New Orleans, an all-volunteer nonprofit that helps fulfill the wishes of about 100 critically ill Louisiana children each year. McMyne asked that Brian's last name not be used to respect the privacy of the grieving family. Brian's wish was simple: He wanted to go to a Hornets game. So McMyne got him tickets to Monday night's playoff game against the San Antonio Spurs. But at the last minute, a friend of Brian's family called to cancel. The boy had been rushed to the hospital with a high fever, she said. He died hours later. In his final weeks, Brian told his family that he knew he was going to heaven and that he wanted to meet Jesus wearing his Chris Paul jersey. Someone within the Hornets organization sent around an e-mail telling Brian's story. It caught the eye of Paul and Hornets owner George Shinn. Both cried. "It was very touching to me. Tears welled up in my eyes," said Shinn, who sent flowers and a letter to the family and offered to help with funeral costs. The family, overwhelmed with grief, was touched by his kindness but declined. The location and time of the funeral also are private. Shinn and his wife hoped to attend the funeral with Paul and his parents. But the team will be on road at the time, so that isn't possible, Shinn said. The family plans to bury Brian in his favorite jersey, as he requested. Footwear tributes aren't new, Shinn said. But usually the name is directly connected to the player. His mother. A family member. A favorite coach. "The NBA allows you to do that, to honor that person," Shinn said. Shinn has never before seen a player write a fan's name on his footwear, "particularly a fan that the player hadn't even met," he said. The tribute is "above and beyond imagination," McMyne said. "This genuinely heartfelt response by Chris Paul made this delicate family feel fortunate as they grieve their angel." . . . . . . . Katy Reckdahl can be reached at kreckdahl@timespicayune.com or (504) 826-3396. Taken from: http://www.nola.com/sports/t-p/index.ssf?/base/sports-37/1210225031270110.xml&coll=1

Dates

NonValidePourVoyager — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 18:07:12 GMT

It’s funny, yesterday I kept on thinking that something historically significant happened, or that I had some important thing I had to do or something but kept on drawing a blank… Then it hit me this morning: yesterday marked the anniversary of the 1992 Los Angeles Riots…AND I WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THAT SHIT. You’d think it would always be on my internal calendar or something. This makes me wonder if there will come a time when August 29th will be just another date to me.

The Pelican Brief: An Interview With New Orleans’ Brian Pelican

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 29 Apr 2008 18:05:14 GMT

[Brian’s note: I met J Trek- from Oklahoma City- via the web a few months back. He got in touch with me concerning an online Hip Hop magazine he planned to start, featuring interviews with rap music artists who were largely unknown but who represented far more what Hip Hop “is” than what it appears to be. I sent him a few of my unreleased songs, we did some email exchange back and forth and about a month and a half ago he called me- while I was drinking- to conduct an interview. The following is more or less what you’ll see on his upcoming website] The Pelican Brief: An Interview With New Orleans’ Brian Pelican By J Trek JT: Alright, so first thing is first; when I first contacted you about an interview, you were calling yourself Don Libido. What’s with the name change? BP: Don Libido is dead, long live Don Libido. I’ll tell you, man, there was hella time that passed that I thought I’d never drop the Libido name. But the name reflects a phase in my life, all as an artist, asshole, cat too over concerned about shit that kept me away from recording and performing. That is, dude, I can’t even lie: the past couple of years for me have been a cycle of drugs, alcohol and emotionally unstable, wait, scratch that, just plain fucked up women. I have stories. STD and pregnancy scares, stalkers, chicks still stuck on their ex’s so they betray you, eh, you know, right? I’m cleaning up my act and actions, now. Not that I’m pretending to be something that I’m not. I’m just trying to bring the right kind of energy out and reach people who I can build with, though it may not seem like it on the surface. I’ve been wearing my heart on the sleeve lately with songs and sometimes that shit is ugly. Hopefully some people out there will get the beauty in that. And as it goes, I still have one project left to record under that alias of Don Libido. That’s with my brother, Caligula. The group is called Libigula, the name being a combination of both of our emcee names. That’s going to be my swan song as Libido. JT: I respect that. But does that mean there will be no more songs that reflect a life that’s kind of low life? No more songs about sex with fucked up women and so drunk you don’t know where you were the night before? BP: Songs like that may be inevitable. I mean, just being human, fuck ups are likely. And you know, I’m not even so sure that presenting myself as something “ideal” is the ideal way to present myself musically. Especially in Hip Hop. There’s so much still riding on “keeping it real,” a decade plus after that shit became popular. Fuck, I hate that phrase. How am I able to do anything but keep it real? Even if I do a song that’s entirely fiction, I still have the mundane shit and general madness to deal with once I leave the studio. How’s about I record complete bullshit about my life? Let’s keep it bullshit, brah. I’m gonna record an album just about fucking triple titty, quadruple pussy, AIDS infected baboons from the planet Pluto and do it all straight-faced. JT: Pluto’s not a planet anymore, man. Read your science books. You’re not keeping it real. BP: [laughs] Exactly. I’m just ranting, man. Cool? JT: Cool. Go ahead. BP: You meet me at a bar, at some bullshit club, whatever, I’m still Brian. You can be some douchebag and have issues with your own perceptions of me, gassed off your insecurities, try to start a fight or whatever. Or just hang out, have a beer and shoot the shit with me. I have my own day to day hustle to deal with, you know? Let’s avoid the stress. Hi, I’m Brian, pleased to make your acquaintance. JT: That’s real, man. So there are people locally who have issues with you? BP: Eh, not so much at the moment. Maybe one or two guys. I don’t know, man. I keep my life pretty basic right now. Not trying to start or welcome shit from anybody. I have my regular hangout spots like Handsome Willys. Plug, plug. I drink a few beers, spend time with friends, watch the Hornets ball, deal with what I must to survive and so on. My life is so just like the average cat. Never really on some better than you shit. I just like to create, be it music or writing. JT: Yeah, but who wants to hear songs about being Joe Average? BP: Sometimes people want to listen to something they can relate to, sometimes they’re just looking to be entertained. I think I’m pretty adept at both, even giving a creative interpretation of my reality in song. You remember how NWA was able to get away with recording songs about a life they did not live? Their whole angle was that they were just essentially reporting what they witnessed from the streets? So I understand. Well, let’s say I maybe, MAYBE lived a life that far more reflects my reality than what NWA was recording about their respective lives, and then decide to record songs about my life. Maybe that’s what the Brian Pelican songs are now. Maybe. JT: So you have issues with NWA and groups like that, that had and have the whole “street reporter” angle and aren’t reporting from personal experience? BP: Not at all. I have a ton of respect for all those NWA cats, specifically. What they did was art. The subsequent wannabe NWAs that spawned from their creation of “gangsta rap,” eh, most of them blew. There was nothing added to the mix, just the same tired shit rehashed. That’s the garbage I have a problem with nowadays. Some artists, such as DJ Quik, AMG, MC Eiht, Hi-C and Snoop Dogg of course and a few others who are slipping my memory right now did something a little different, something creative, able to add a little something to the genre of gangsta rap and make their own distinct voice. That’s hella cool. My point is, even if you’re keeping it not-so-real but still have something creative, dynamic, mutant to bring out musically, then that’s fucking awesome. That’s magic. That said, most rap music is utter fucking garbage, not just gangsta shit, but shit in general. And it’s been like that for years. But that ain’t Hip Hop. I feel like an old man some days, dude, always wanting to complain about how shit was better way back when. But I promise you I’m not going to do one of those kind of songs. JT: Yeah man, I’m fucking tired of hearing the slew of “back in the day” songs. I’m going to bitch slap the next emcee who does some nostalgic bullshit. BP: [laughs] Uh, yeah, I understand. I have a few friends/acquaintances who have recorded songs like that, but I’m not about to get on their case about doing those kind of songs. We use music to get our issues out. If what they did helps them as artists, cool. JT: Do you feel like what you do is original? BP: I’m not so sure there is an original idea out there, but I think any and every concept can be mutated and made new. I won’t say there’s nobody who sounds like me, but if that emcee exists, I haven’t met him. I feel pretty fucking original. JT: I listened to the songs you have online and the few you sent me privately, and yeah man, I’ll give you that. You don’t sound like anybody else I can think of, well, except Paul Barman and Del. BP: [pause, then laughs] Fuck. Ah, whatever! Being compared to so and so is inevitable when being reviewed by critics. Fuck it. Either you dig what I’m doing or don’t support it. Simple, really. JT: Okay, so I did a bit of research on you before this interview, including thoroughly researching your MySpace music profile and reading your only interview you have posted there in the blog. So I have some questions, dude. BP: Alright, shoot, killer. JT: What’s up with you and women? No offense, man, but you kind of come across as more of a bitch than Atmosphere. Again, no offense, but that’s my initial reaction to you. BP: No offense taken. I can kind of get where you’re coming from. It’s funny you mention Atmosphere, too, but I don’t feel like going into it, here. My weakness, I guess. Shit, I don’t know, man. I think writing about women I’ve cared for and who may or may not have fucked me over makes for a more interesting song than if I’m talking about, eh, some guy I got into a fight with or whatever. Just doesn’t interest me. JT: So do you have a significant other at the moment? BP: Nah, I haven’t been with anyone for the past couple of years now who I’d consider a partner. A couple close calls, women I would have sacrificed my single status for and who managed to fuck with my head far too seriously to the point I’m doing really stupid shit, but eh, whatever. I’m not bitter. Not really. The world has moved on. And that’s all material for more songs. JT: So what do you look for physically and mentally in a woman? BP: Where you going with this? JT: Why the defense? You’re an open book, right? BP: Yeah. [sighs] I keep on thinking I'm going to meet this chick between 5'2" to 5'4" and has hazel or brown eyes, brunette, wears glasses, could be vegetarian but is cool with me loving that pork and cattle, heath conscious enough but drinks beer as a religion, appreciates Hip Hop, overall liberal but gets why I'm registered as a Republican- because it's a JOKE- bisexual so she can understand my misogynistic moments because of her own history with women, eh, someone game for a weekend road trip through the South to embrace this part of America or whatever, just spontaneous travel, but also could just do an evening of hanging out at my place with no plans, drinking boxed wine and watching Terry Gilliam movies. Or maybe David Lynch shit, just to be pissed off at the nonsense that asshole makes. JT: That’s still a bit specific. BP: Yeah. I know. I don’t think “she” exists, really. Honestly, I’m happy with someone who gets me, period. I have my issues and quirks after 30 plus years of programming from the world around me. JT: Hmmm [extended pause] BP: Hey, you asked, man. Wait , this is supposed to be some Hip Hop interview, right? JT: Yeah, so ummm, which artists are you working with right now in New Orleans? BP: Primarily it’s me and Tony Skratchere for our group, The Slick Bastards. The projects we have up and coming are going to blow the ass out your panties. I’ve been talking with The Able Chris for a while now about doing a few songs. Far as I’m concerned that shit is guaranteed. Same thing with ATM and C.O. I think we’re just so caught up in our own lives that setting aside that time to record is always an issue. I really want to hit Texas in the near future and turn out a few songs with Blaknificent, who- no disrespect to other producers I know- is the tightest most gets the essence of boom bap cat I know. Blaknif is Hip Hop. Of course there’s the Libigula album with Caligula, which I mentioned already. I’m also just working to put out my solo album as Brian Pelican, called “Non Valide Pour Voyager.” JT: Non valide pour voyager. Am I pronouncing that right? BP: Fuck if I know. I butcher French. JT: What’s with that name for your album? BP: It sums up my life. It’s French for “not valid for travel.” Those were the words printed on my rejection papers from Canadian Immigration. Back in December, 2007, I planned on visiting a friend in Canada, but due to my criminal record for some bullshit I did in New Orleans- per the Canadian Criminal Code- I am considered a felon. I thought it was just a misdemeanor and didn’t think anything about my arrest in NOLA last year when I travelled up there. So, yeah, I broke the law in the United States, but I paid my dues. I went to OPP [editor’s note: OPP means ‘Orleans Parish Prison’ and has nothing to do with the Naughty By Nature song], paid my fucking fine. But it didn’t matter. They wouldn’t let me in that fucking country. Even the U.S. Border Patrol dude thought my rejection was bullshit given my crime. But as it goes, man, I’m not allowed to step a foot within Canada or I will be arrested and some moose will make me his bitch. I can’t even visit for five years and don’t have the option to become a citizen of Canada until I’m 42 or something. JT: Were you looking to expatriate to Canada? BP: Yeah, that was my plan. I love New Orleans. I mean, I’m obsessed with the city but shit has been different since… you know, in a way that I didn’t feel was a supplement to my sanity. So, yeah, I felt the need to head out for a while. Take a breather and be Canadian. Even had it in me to start up a New Orleans Hip Hop scene in Canada, get a few of the cats I know here to move to Vancouver or Toronto and make music. JT: That would have been cool, man. I like the whole idea of transplanting an entirely foreign Hip Hop scene. And just see what happens… BP: Yeah, that was the concept. But I can’t go there. But you know, being regulated to New Orleans has given me a new perspective, really. You know where you’re truly welcome and adapt to that. New Orleans will always love me, even when she’s having one of her episodes. JT: So are there any non-New Orleanian Hip Hop artists that you’re checking for and if given the opportunity would work with? BP: Well, first I must mention MC Hype of the Jersey Bound Trunk Crew. You gotta check out his music, seriously. He’s one of the couple people I’ve met online who I’d really like to work with. I definitely want to see a collab on my album. There aren’t too many new or relatively new Hip Hop artists I’m checking for. For the most part, eh, most of the cats who have come out over the past ten to fifteen years don’t pique my interest. I mean, dude, seriously, I still listen to Kool Moe Dee and Jungle Brothers like that’s the new shit. That said, I’ve really been into Tech N9ne, Z-Man, Hangar 18, really dig Camu Tao, El-P, Little Brother, MF Grimm, Slaine and La Coka Nostra, umm, damn, I’m trying to think of the recent Hip Hop I’ve been listening to and am getting a major blank space. I think I listen to more Blues these days. JT: Any last words, shout outs, advice? BP: Uh, the Hornets will be the 2008 NBA Champions. Eat your veggies, wear a condom when making sweet love and spit on Ray Nagin, often. Oh, and despite the high murder rate and crime in general, New Orleans is still the greatest city in the United States, and if you don’t agree I’ll fucking kill you. I need another beer.

Bicycle Vs. Truck, Truck Always Wins

NonValidePourVoyager — Mon, 28 Apr 2008 17:22:06 GMT

I'm in a good deal of pain, today. Around 3 AM, Sunday morning, I'm riding my bike back Uptown after a night of Sage Francis at the Den and some drinks with friends. While on Prytania, this red truck zooms past me, clipping me in the process. I'm forced to make a hard right, which makes me collide into a parked car. The truck continues. Hit and run, not cool. I slam my ribs into the handlebars and bang my left knee on the pavement. Blood pours. I’m sitting there for a couple of minutes trying to make sense of what just happened. My head hurts and realize I must have banged it too once I hit the ground, though my knee took the brunt of most of the fall. I walk my bike the rest of the way home- a little over a half mile-because my left leg hurts too much to bend my knee to pedal. Crash at my place, too exhausted to investigate the damage. Wake up to find bloody shorts and bedsheets. My knee is pure ugly. I hop in the shower to wash it off and whoa the water hurt. I felt a little out of it and after a brief trip to Rite Aid for pain relief, I crash again, sleeping from 2:30 PM to 4 AM this morning, getting up here and there to change the ice pack. I get to wear shorts today at work. Pants are too painful.

Naughty Sausage

NonValidePourVoyager — Wed, 23 Apr 2008 21:38:54 GMT

So I’m- again- watching the video clip of George W. Bush dancing in New Orleans this past week ( http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/7360260.stm ) between his meetings with Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper and Mexican President Felipe Calderon for the North American Leaders Summit and think, “Gosh, I’m proud to be an American.” Because no matter what atrocities for which that bastard is at least partially to blame, the President can still groove to the music of MY city. My favorite quote of the moment: "Times are not good here. The city is crumbling into ashes. It has been buried under a lava flood of taxes and frauds and maladministrations so that it has become only a study for archaeologists. Its condition is so bad that when I write about it, as I intend to do soon, nobody will believe I am telling the truth. But it is better to live here in sackcloth and ashes than to own the whole state of Ohio." - Lafcadio Hearn in a letter to a friend in Ohio back in the 1870's (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lafcadio_Hearn for more about the author of this quote)

Shaving the Panda for Travel: Day One

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 15 Apr 2008 18:12:02 GMT

After a brief stop at my regular bar after mundane labor on Monday, I raced home to get to work on making Hip Hop tracks using Reason 4.0. After about 3 hours into playing around and getting reacquainted, I put together the rough beat for a song I’m simply calling “Baton Rouge.” Decided that I want to do all the production work for the Brian Pelican album (as opposed to the Slick Bastards and LIBIGULA projects which will have multiple hands on, including possibly material from a member of Wu Tang). It feels good to get back into being creative musically. I can totally see myself being a hermit for a while this summer to just focus on production work. Less boozing and bipolar women. I might even invest time in just reading books, again (something I’ve slacked off on a great deal). As for the material I recorded as Don Libido over the past four years, well, that’s going to remain up in the air for a while. There were several tracks recorded with a few different producers, and I don’t have at least half of those songs. I may just put together an album that’ll be a free download on the Slick Bastards website (http://slickbastards.com/ ). I figure if I’m handling all the production work, then there’s really no one to blame but myself when the album ain’t ready. You know I’ve been promising a Don Libido record in some form since 2005? That’s ridiculous. This isn’t to say there have been no releases with Don Libido songs. After all, there’s Dragon’s Breath compilation The Restless Natives: A Tribute to the Victims of Hurricane Katrina (and you can still buy the album on Amazon at http://www.amazon.com/Restless-Natives-Dedicated-Hurricane-Explicit/dp/B000R04WK2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=dmusic&qid=1208282675&sr=8-1 ) which features two Don Libido songs. But yeah, considering how long I’ve been doing this, shit, I really should have had a couple records out by now. Anyhow, yes, the Brian Pelican album is called “Non Valide Pour Voyager.” It’ll contain several musical influences but most definitely still be Hip Hop. I’m even singing on it (yeah, I know, don’t be scared…I gots an alright voice, I swear). I’m going to shoot for completing this project by the end of 2008. Okay, gotta think about the Hornets Vs. Clippers tonight. Carry on.

Making Music

NonValidePourVoyager — Mon, 14 Apr 2008 17:26:07 GMT

Well, today I've started messing with Reason 4.0. The last time I touched Reason was in '06, when my roommate had a studio set up where I slept. I could just hop out of bed and let the muses spank me any time I felt inspired. Did some of my best recordings/production work in that studio/bedroom. Looking through the instruction manual. Tons of reading to be had. This is a good thing. I think getting back into Hip Hop production will do me well. After all, the Hornets regular season coming to a close. Plus, it would behoove me not to barfly as much as I have over the past several months...mostly for my health, ya dig. Keepin' busy. Word.

How To Handle The Jerk Next To You On An Airplane

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 10 Apr 2008 21:59:49 GMT

1. Quietly and calmly open up your laptop case. 2. Remove your laptop. 3. Start up 4. Make sure the guy who is annoying you can see the screen. 5. Close your eyes, join your palms together, tilt your head up to the sky & move your lips as if praying 6. Then hit the link.... http://boortz.com/mp3/archive/countdown.swf

Yay! Vanilla Ice!!!!

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 03 Apr 2008 14:41:23 GMT

So I've learned that my buddy is going to see a Vanilla Ice show this Friday for laughs. Knowing this friend as I do, I totally expect him to beat the living shit out of Mr. Ice for fun. See, once my friend gets drunk, he can get violent. This friend is also one of the most legitimate Hip Hop artists I know and something about mixing him with the "Ice Ice Baby" element spells chaos. And I think a fight between Vanilla and this friend is hilarious. Am I wrong to find physical violence funny towards someone who has done me no ill? From what I've heard- and I have heard a few stories including from the owners of a club where I did a show last year- that Vanilla Ice is a major douchebag. Grade A Turd, yep. So, yeah, if a fight between my friend and Ice gets taped and finds its way online, I'll be sure to post a link here. I do hope my pacifist friends will forgive me.

Just in case you missed Wednesday night's Hornets Vs. Cavaliers game...

NonValidePourVoyager — Fri, 28 Mar 2008 00:30:28 GMT

Goddamn.... http://video.aol.com/video-detail/hornets-100-cavaliers-99-f/3224876431

Just So We're On The Same Page....

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 20 Mar 2008 15:14:56 GMT

See above image. Yes. The Hornets are #1 in the West. Today is the first day of Spring, yesterday marked the Persian New Year and today is Mr. Rodger's Sweater Day. Coincidence? I think not!

Lovely day...lovely day...

NonValidePourVoyager — Tue, 11 Mar 2008 18:30:48 GMT

Busy, busy this week. Writing, networking, blah, blah, blah. Worked a bit on the new house this past weekend. Light work, honestly, just scraping some old paint from the door for the room that will be my new recording studio. Once the place is finished it will be the raddest house in which I've ever lived. Yeah, raddest. Again, any time I can talk one/any/all of you out of towners into visiting NOLA, you'll have an excellent place to crash. Right now I'm looking to paint the interior in reds, yellows and oranges, hoping to promote a bit of a Carribean feel. The restaurant nearby- called Man Chu- does NOT sell Asian food (unless you count fried rice), though it is run by an Asian family (I think Vietnamese...not completely sure...I suck). What they do have is some of the best fucking fried chicken I've ever eaten. They also have other reasonably priced local food. Highly recommended if you don't mind tempting a heart attack. In other news, here's something I posted today on the Atheists tribe @ http://nogod.tribe.net (reposting it here because I feel like sharing): _Sparring With Trolls_ I’m not much for debate these days. I’ve enjoyed and learned from some of the recent exchange, but really don’t feel compelled enough to throw in my dos pesos (the irony that I’m posting something now, noted). Mickey, Jason and others subscribed to this group are far more adept at presenting their arguments and I commend their effort, however much it seems to fall on deaf ears. I have my reasons for being an Atheist and sleep perfectly well at night believing that upon my demise, well, that’s it. There is no God, no Satan, no heaven, no eternal torment, much less a waiting room where a saint reviews the actions I’ve taken during my remarkably short life. I don’t have to prove my beliefs to anyone but myself. If it turns out that I’m ultimately wrong, I still wouldn’t wish to embrace a divinity that finds it fair to punish me for not joining its team. I’m able to be an ethical, compassionate, kind, hard working, loving human without being threatened to play nice or else by a celestial boogey man. This is not to suggest I’m perfect or have committed no wrongs upon myself and other life, but I am decent far as the average Joe goes. And that’s more than I can say for a good deal of people I’ve met who claim to be “religious” (whatever that means), moral, Christian, etc. In my early 20s, I was of the more hostile variety when it came to dealing with people who held a belief in a divinity which compelled them to force their religious convictions upon non-believers. In my 30s, I still am greatly offended by these folks, but don’t feel as confrontational unless their convictions seriously compromise my or my loved ones lifestyle. Kudos to those who find it worthwhile to battle trolls online and the like. Me, eh, I’d rather spend my time reading some Raymond Chandler and down a few Red Stripes. To each their own, right? If following Jesus, Muhammad, the tenets of Buddhism, the B’hai Faith, even Scientology, whatever, genuinely makes you a better person (whatever you may deem as “better”), gives you a healthy outlook on life, a positive direction, and so on then good for you. But unless I explicitly ask, I’m not interested in learning about your take on the universe, life and everything, much less adopting it as my own point of view. That said, one leading by example has been far more effective at convincing me of embracing their belief than anything. The day I meet the happy and healthy zealot, the more I’d be open to hearing their pitch.

Brief Note On the New Orleans Hornets…

NonValidePourVoyager — Thu, 28 Feb 2008 18:46:19 GMT

I have two Hornets player jerseys right now: the Chris Paul All Star which is ridiculously fresh and I recently picked up an alternate Peja Stojakovic jersey. But after last nights game against the Phoenix Suns, I may have to go out and get either or both Tyson Chandler and Jannero Pargo jerseys, too. I love the Hornets. I may even be more into them than I was ever into the Saints. Don’t get me wrong, still about the Saints when it’s football season, but dang…the fucking Hornets are the focus right now. Solid team. No weak links. Watching them play makes me want to play again.