Wednesday, March 27th, 2019
Monday, March 25th, 2019
I have a storage unit. Three times in 18 months has the price gone up. Seems fast. This last time, it went from $156 to $158.
I have no idea what’s going on behind the scenes there, but this is what it feels like. The storage unit is pretty centrally located. It seems to be somewhat busy. I bet they are sold out. I bet they have a waiting list. If you’re a business owner, doesn’t it seem like you should be charging more? Your supply is gone, but new people are knocking on your door trying to give you money. You like money. You want to say yes, but that supply, it’s gone. So you crank up the rate. Someone mad? Who cares, leave then. People are begging to get in. You’ll fill it the next day.
You keep on cranking that price dial until your waiting list dies down a little. Some part of me feels like this is smart. Kinda economics 101. The spirit of capitalism. Doesn’t work out? You can always turn the dial back down. That’s the part that worries me though, have you soiled the pot? Is there such ill-will the people won’t come back? In a commodity market like storage units, it’s likely nobody cares or even remembers. But if you were making like speciality pancakes and did this in response to a line out your door, it would probably be a bad idea.
Friday, March 22nd, 2019
John Hartford is amazing. Before his big music career, he was on the radio in Nashville as a disk jockey. As such, he can do these radio personality impressions super well, then as a twist, make them into almost entirely gibberish, only hinting at real people, places, and events.
On the famous Aereo-Plane record, there is a track called Station Break that is just a short clip that goes like this:
Bill Randall 650, Dorothy S. Ma’m, the Axlewide and Peppermint Endurance Company in Bashful Johnny C, Home of the Grand Ol’ Conglomeration, Fannie Hill University and the Bathtub of the South. It’s 7:30.
It sort of translates to:
Clear Channel 650, WSM, the National Life and Accident Insurance Company, in Nashville, Tennessee, home of the Grand Ol’ Opry, Vanderbuilt University, and the Athens of the South. It’s 7:30.
Below, I’ve written out the “words” to an extended Station Break track released on a new record, Backroads, Rivers & Memories: The Rare & Unreleased John Hartford.
Bill Randall’s six fifty dorthy yes ma’am the axle wide and peppermint endurance company in bashville Johnny C. Ahhhh yes casual density the cushamoo shack of the world home of Fanny Hill University, the Grand Ol’ Conglomeration, and the bathtub of the South.
Greetings one and all from the comber of chamerce and come take a rush hour with groovy city with an amle on the fourth and chun king larger mouth. See the forms of the apple star. The stage on the stands of a hopper house – where have stood the greats: Coy Raycoff, Shut Upkins with his followfin guitar, lean forward backseat and Bonny Brown, following girl butler, wilbalean tummy goober, Butter Fat and Oil Scruggs and their Soggy Mound of Noise, on the ball and the razor stroppers, Building Roads of Bluegrass Boys, Quarter Bagswinger and the Dragon Slappers, Thanksaloffin, Who Sold the Boxcar, Another Haybail Carter and the Further Family, Bombing Hairs, Slamming Kurt the Bee, the Bellythumpers, Cootcar hookers, and lots more a waddle and bang bang pickers.
Yes, the oldest show rationally. The Grand Ol’ Osky wow. Every Saturday night until midnight where the hoppers shower and we join Grunt Burner at the Bellyrub Rocking Shop with the runnybub spread night tamborine with one of the grace of the apple, lurching tub and the axious tubaphors.
Rest hours, wrecking flowers, and meeny miney moe. After the rooster shop, we go back to the studios. Double the swam and join Drath Summery and next Winterbroth in an awful tired spotlight with all the hits like Only Cash with Everybody Loves Me But, Ugly Starcher with Wrist Pin Unseats Itself, Raving Bedsdev with Almost Prorated, Rumble in the Majorstoppers with Armed Deodorants, Shinybie with once a day to keep a woman like you Southern Fried, Slow Stop Cockins sliding down McGorgeous Room, and money money matchsticks.
So, if the Geezenslaw Brothers and the Creeks Don’t Rise that’s all from Care Flannelwas Dripping. Tub a Jazz Man the actual slice and papsadent Missouri company in Nashville on the Scene. Home of the Grand Old Operation and the Bathtub of the South.
Wednesday, March 13th, 2019
There’s something deliciously appropriate about using a painting cloning service to clone a photograph of some cloned dogs.
Wednesday, March 13th, 2019
… conspiracy theories had evolved into an almost-perfect form for exploiting cognitive biases and the pressures of social media. Debunkings and true beliefs couldn’t copy that process, so they were losing out.
This sounded like a challenge, so here you go:
There are a couple of others that are just too good.