FREE PHIL SPECTOR'S WIG!*

Devo - BEAUTIFUL WORLD

Phil Spector's Wig began life in the jungles of west Africa - a lone surviving pup - after poachers illegally and cruelly killed its mother and litter-mates. Orphaned, cold and desperately thin, Phil Spector's Wig was found by a kindly National Park Ranger and given a home. Hand fed 4 times a day with bottles of goat's milk, Phil Spector's Wig was raised as human hair for three years before it became too large to continue to live in the tiny forest quarters of the Ranger. Trading the caged hair for the equivalent of $40 American, Phil Spector's Wig was seperated from a loving environment for the second time in its short life.



The next five years were a blur of animal traders, zoos and carnival side shows - a parade of cages and handlers that seemed to reawaken the wild yearnings of the seemingly tamed beast. At long last Phil Spector's Wig came to rest in a habitat at the L.A. Zoo, sharing the space with Burt Reynold's 1970s Fill-In-The-Blank, an Eva Gabor Fall and three of Shatner's Early Rugs.

It was at this time that Phil Spector's Wig was seen by the legendary music producer's stylist. Ageing, dry and in need of an all-over blunt trim, Phil Spector's Wig was bought for an undisclosed sum and quietly removed from the Zoo's collection. After six months of aggressive moisturizing and rumored electro-shock treatments, Phil Spector's Wig initially appeared on his head shortly before Mr. Spector was put on trial for the murder of Lana Clarkson replacing the hairpiece that had been a potential witness to her mysterious death.



In early court appearances, Phil Spector's Wig displayed the aggression of a beast long tamed against its will - it threatened to take over the trial and tip the scales of Justice against its Master. For this reason, it had to be beaten mercilessly into an obedient blonde Page-Boy where it sat for the four-plus months of the trial.



Shockingly yesterday the Jury told the judge in the case that they were hopelessly deadlocked 10-2 and a Mistrial was declared. Now, as both the prosecution and defence teams prepare to mount their cases again, I find it impossible to hold my tongue any longer.

Free Phil Spector's Wig! I believe that slow exposure to the wild would make it possible to someday release Phil Spector's Wig to the jungle from which it was taken. Phil Spector's Wig could live the life that Nature intended, wild and free - no longer beaten down by relentless brushing and cruel triple-processing. Phil Spector's Wig could once again take its place among the jungle's apex predators.

Please join me in this moral quest. Make your voice heard with mine! Free Phil Spector's Wig!

*This message brought to you by epistleoftimothy & The Campaign to Free Phil Spector's Wig which are solely resposible for its content. Funding from the World Wildlife Foundation and the United Hairdressers of America Philanthropic Fund.

-This is the SINGLE-MOST POPULAR Post of the 3 years of the epistle. Fifty to Seventy-Five hits a week. PLEASE, leave a COMMENT below so I can try to repeat myself - Timothy

*Dear God,

PLAY IT LOUD ENOUGH FOR HEAVEN TO HEAR! XTC/DEAR GOD

Dear god,
Hope you got the letter,
And I pray you can make it better down here.
I dont mean a big reduction in the price of beer,
But all the people that you made in your image,
See them starving on their feet,
cause they dont get enough to eat
From god...


Dear god,
Sorry to disturb you,
But I feel that I should be heard loud and clear.
We all need a big reduction in amount of tears,
And all the people that you made in your image,
See them fighting in the street,
cause they cant make opinions meet,
About god...


Did you make disease...


...and the diamond blue?


Did you make mankind after we made you?
And the devil too!


Dear god,
Dont know if you noticed,
But your name is on a lot of quotes in this book.
Us crazy humans wrote it, you should take a look,
And all the people that you made in your image,
Still believing that junk is true.
Well I know it aint and so do you,
Dear god...


I wont believe in heaven and hell.
No saints, no sinners,
No devil as well.
No pearly gates, no thorny crown.
Youre always letting us humans down.


The wars you bring, the babes you drown.
Those lost at sea and never found,
And its the same the whole world round.
The hurt I see helps to compound,



That the father, son and holy ghost,
Is just somebodys unholy hoax,
And if youre up there youll perceive,
That my hearts here upon my sleeve.
If theres one thing I dont believe in...



Its you,
Dear god.

*This was inspired by a series of books with the same title, which lead singer Andy Partridge saw as an exploitation of children. The song is essentially a letter to God asking about his existence.

Doubt is far more universal than Faith. Christ in Gethsemane shows us that even the Divine cannot completely banish Doubt short of total surrender to a Will we can't understand. Though I believe, I have never feared that my questions could anger a Loving, All-Mighty Creator.

We get to ask "Why?"

The High Price Of Our Complacency

Or, Really...Who WOULD Jesus Bomb?

I was a pre-teen during the waning years of the Vietnam Conflict and as a result I am predisposed to distrust the stated motives of any military action. Particularly challenging is our current war against "implied" aggression, what MIGHT happen. Shoot first, round up the bad guys later.

It was the threat of the dread (and imaginary) WMDs that initially starred in the current administration's four-year runaway hit THE UNITED STATES VS. ANYONE WHO EVEN THINKS ABOUT ATTACKING US AND STUFF:THE MUSICAL. The irony at the core of this show is that even after a four-year run, the seats are mostly empty - tickets sit at "will-call" unclaimed and unwanted. The show is costing our economy $9 BILLION and 90 or so lives a month to stage and yet we can't sell tickets in Europe or to any of our mid-east allies.


Even though we are losing blood and treasure every day, our leaders are contemplating a spin-off of the show - tentatively named WE BETTER START A WAR WITH IRAN BECAUSE THEY MIGHT SOMEDAY BE STRONG ENOUGH TO THREATEN OUR OIL SUPPLY, ER I MEAN UH NATIONAL SECURITY AND STUFF:THE MUSICAL PART II.

Escalations of the Vietnam War to Laos and Cambodia flooded the streets with protesters in the late sixties/early seventies. Potential escalation of our WARS in the mid-east are flooding both houses of Congress with growling, chest thumping diatribes of our willingness to sacrifice additional American young men and women to a threat that MIGHT someday occur.

Should our leaders follow through with a show about military action agaist Iran or Syria or Islam or Druids or Disney or Snake-Handling Chistian Crazies or Your local High School Girls Hockey Team - we will need more actors and stage hands (soldiers) than our Armed Forces can currently supply. Historically our country has turned to Selective Service - the Draft - to cast those that MIGHT die.


I have nephews that range from 6 to 17 and a year old niece. Which of them, any of them, all of them am I willing to sacrifice? Perhaps not a question that I must answer now but have you ever wondered when people say "I just never thought it would happen here/to me/to our family" how they have escaped seeing other people on CNN saying the same thing and yet have never imagined a WHEN those things MIGHT happen?

If we do nothing, if we continue to allow our leaders to take us into war and more war we will all have those things happen here/to me/to our families. Currently we only sacrifice the willing volunteers of our soldier-class (and tens of thousands of Afgan and Iraqi civilians) but someday soon we may be registering thousands of young Americans to fight and die in wars we have been frightened into allowing.

Can any of us really avoid the bad things that MIGHT happen to us in our daily lives? Is there a PRE-EMPTIVE STRIKE TO LIFE that I haven't found? How then do we imagine that our leaders can conduct wars against the bad things that MIGHT happen to our National Security? They aren't any smarter than we are. That is worth repeating. They aren't any smarter than we are. The unknown is just as unknown in Washington DC as it is anywhere else.

I may not have children of my own but I am not willing to sacrifice ANYONE'S child to a WAR against the UNKNOWN.

Once more with feeling - They aren't any smarter than we are.

The U.S. Senate Welcomes Back Idaho Senator Republican Larry Craig

Please rise for a moment of silence, maybe three moments.

It Wanted To Be Re-Published...

Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound sat slouched in the towel I'd wrapped it in making soft sucking sounds to itself - rhythmic, almost musical. It continued, the only sound in the room, until my curiosity overcame me,

"Tell me, " I ventured, "do tell me, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, how I can ring me up some Jesus to rain down on my head? My spark is stuck in the flesh-web in my brain. I need me some Jesus to rain down on my head."

Silence broken by the sucking sound the wound made - rhythmic almost musical. The next voice was not my own.

"You are SO human!" my kitty cat uncurled in the space beneath my chin and giggled, "Oh SO human and SO all alone! Calling out for the one thing that's never left you. Pity Man, so sure of himself and yet suspended over the gulf of Eternity - his Forever teeters first one way then another."

As usual my kitty cat made more sense than a kitty cat should but her wise words were instantly lost on my slippery soul so again I ventured, "Tell me please, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, tell me HOW I can ring me some Jesus to rain down on my poor head?"

It made a smack, its red-ringed mouth slippery as I bled, then silent a second it seemed to think.

"Listen to itself it must!" Its voice a moist, hoarse whisper, "The jug of wine calls out it thirsts! The dinner dies of hunger!"
The "h" in "hunger" bubbled blood, so absently I wiped it clean. My kitten laughed her meowing laugh to fill the awkward moment.

"From Paradise it banished its silly Self! (said banish-shed, Shakespearean)." Smack smack - it giggled? - then it fell mute, its riddle slowly forming like the scab that dried on my forearm. It had drizzled blood since early morning.

For an instant I might have understood, epiphany triumphant. Then Fear, my favorite feeling, Father of all the Others, overcame my clarity. It was too easy, a trick - might I be the source of my own Eternity?

In my horror I cried,"Too simple! It must be Complex, a snarl of rules, a list of Steps!" I shook my arm in anger and the Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound seemed to cough, the blood flow increasing,"I have been taught to believe in a Chosen few, no Infidels allowed! The Diverse made Homogeneous Forever and Ever, Amen."

"Man's Rules, not God's!" It raised its voice. I blinked back tears.

"If true," I whispered,"then all I've learned of Grace and God must be replaced. All my Doing wasted. My frantic quest to be redeemed. My spark alone enough for Heaven's gate - not earned but given - a Loving Fate."

"Mm Hm, " it hummed, my Kitten purred. The Universe buzzed around me.

The Fool, in tears I spoke again,"Please tell me, Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound, tell me HOW I can ring me some Jesus to rain down on my poor head?" My Lesson lost, I begged a task, assignment, cost, some work to do to earn it.

My Kitten ceased her purring, spun a circle curling up with her ass dismissively in my face. Among the three of us I was the least enlightened.

Suck-suck, suck-suck - rhythmic almost musical. Creepy Little Left-hand Stigmata Wound sat slouched in the towel I'd wrapped it in making soft sucking sounds to itself. The only sound in the room...

5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1 -AUTUMN!

PLAY IT LOUD! Heyo NaNa AE by SYNDROME

Just felt like Fall all weekend in Minneapolis. The music is very "Gay Circuit Party Morning Dance Instrumental From The Turn Of The Century" and it makes me happy when I hear it!

When I Was Seventeen...

PLAY IT LOUD! FADE AWAY AND RADIATE by BLONDIE

...it was a very good year. My senior year, in fact, during which my Drama teacher was out on maternity leave and it fell to me to direct the Fall Shakespeare play. My "New Wave" production of A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM (MSND for short) was precocious, pretentious and precious. It was so popular that it called for a Spring reprise (more Shakespeare please? Damn straight!)

This was one of the 3 posters I designed for the show. A dear friend had held onto a treasure trove of materials from the production and surprised all of us ageing Drama Weinies with it during the weekend of our 25th class reunion.

Some trips in the "Way-Back" Machine are worth the price of admission.

Click the image to enlarge.

When Our Madness Began

Play It LOUD! MAD WORLD by TEARS FOR FEARS

...and that's what I'm angry about.

Play It Loud! WORLD DESTRUCTION by Time Zone

This is a WORLD DESTRUCTION, your life ain't NOTHING. The human race is becoming a disgrace!


The RICH get RICHER - the POOR are getting POORER!


Yes! The world is heading for DESTRUCTION!


Is this NUCLEAR WAR? What are we FIGHTING for?


This is a lesson that is Hard to learn in some cases......but OH! So IMPORTANT!

Nemesis (the good kind) We Dance to it

Shreikback - NEMESIS

In a jungle of the senses

Tinkerbell and Jack the ripper

Love has no meaning, not where they come from

But we know pleasure is not that simple

Very little fruit is forbidden

Sometimes we wobble, sometimes we're strong

But you know evil is an exact science

Being carefully correctly wrong

Chorus

Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals

Everybody happy as the dead come home

Big Black Nemesis, parthenogenesis

No one move a muscle as the dead come home

We feel like Greeks, we feel like Romans

Centaurs and monkeys just cluster round us

We drink elixirs that we refine

from the juices of the dying

We are no monsters, we're moral people

and yet we have the strength to do this

This is the splendour of our achievement

Call in the airstrike with a poison kiss

Chorus

Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals

Everybody happy as the dead come home

Big black nemesis, parthenogenesis

No-one move a muscle as the dead come home

How bad it gets, you can't imagine

the burning wax, the breath of reptiles

god is not mocked, he knows our business

Karma could take us at any moment

Cover him up.....I think we're finished

You know it's never been so exotic

but I don't know, my dreams are visions

We could still end up with the great big fishes

Chorus

Priests and cannibals, prehistoric animals

Everybody happy as the dead come home

Big black nemesis, parthenogenesis

No-one move a muscle as the dead come home 

ichi - ni - san - shi...

Kraftwerk - NUMBERS (Techno Mix)

uno - due - tres - quatro

Theres' a joke I tell about myself, where I make fun of my low math skills by claiming that as an ageing dancer I can only "count to 8 and back." Funny and not all that far removed from the Truth. thanks to KRAFTWERK, however, I can do that in at least four languages.

Magical or Pitiful? Will Wonders Never Start? Part One

In this New Age Of Information, The Second Printing Press, Digital Fire, God's Reference Library era of humankind, should our Wonder wain or peak?

What do YOU think?