That's Showbiz, Folks! [long story]

Reference [here, no disrespect to Murray]

The Legend of Yatin

News Video

You Asked For It - In Photographs

5-year photographic retrospective:


Copyright and shit.

Press "Slideshow" and sit back with a box of wine.

Now stop bothering me; I'm crabby.


Helmet on a Stick

Good Guys Win!

[bad guys die]

Driving back from Lowes like the loser suburbanite I am. I heard this heinous sound coming from somebody's car. That high pitch squeal of fanbelt or brakes. The sound of somebody's bucket driving around MY neighborhood. And, boy was I pissed because that means some lowlife, poor, minority has somehow penetrated the bubble that is my suburban oasis. I'm all looking around indignant. Sneering.

Then I noticed.

Hey, that sound was coming from MY car. WTF?! No. Way.

Passenger side. Front. The brakes couldn't be bad...how could a Honda have blown a bearing before 30k miles? Did the spouse run a curb? Oh, and it's the middle of the Memorial Day weekend. I'm not thinking it's going to get repaired any time soon.

Maybe I'll take a look - manly man I am. Where to start? Turn the wheel, drive back and forth a bit. Roll stop; roll stop. Or, roll screet; roll screet. Terrible sound. LOUD sound. Embarrassing sound. I like to stay anonymous and stealthy when I'm rolling the hood (of the Land of Kent). Here's an idea: I'll take the wheel off.

So, I jack up the car, remove the lug nuts, and take the wheel off. Now what? Maybe the braking mechanism has broken, perhaps it's the universal joint. Maybe I'll make it worse (like from a $200 repair to a $1,500 repair - I've done that before - timing belt on an old Nissan circa 1991). But, I'm curious.

I start the car (it starts). Check the brake fluid (good). Turn the wheel some more (it turns)... Shit!

As I prepare to put the wheel back on I bump the hub again (or whatever the hell that thing's called). I hear the sound again. Maybe.... I put the wheel down again and look behind the back of the disc (or whatever the hell that thing's called) and lo and behold (perhaps?), I see a glistening. It's a pebble-size piece of glass - windshield safety glass. It's wedged between the disc and the dust shield (or whatever the hell that thing's called). I move the hub = squeak. I fish the glass out. I move the hub again = no squeak.

I put the car back together again and viola!


I am such a man today. Somebody get me a beer, a fishin' pole, and some ass!

Now, had I taken it for repair, do you suspect that the mechanic would have said, "son, you are one lucky somebitch...just a pebble making a lot of racket." Ya' think?


Ask Ty...May 27

Q: Is this shit for real?


"DARPA's IPTO will create a new generation of computational and information systems that possess capabilities far beyond those of current systems. These cognitive systems - systems that know what they're doing..."

Just what we need...


"Engines must be able to process naturally-occurring speech and text of all the following types:

Broadcast news (radio, television)
Talk shows (studio, call-in)
Telephone conversations"

- DB, Florida

Ty: DB, good question and an even better observation. Ah, DARPA. The brightest and the craftiest. The people who brought us the InterWebNets, GPS, unmanned drones, and killer satellites. Yeah, they’re up to some sneaky shit and this is the least of it. The answer to your question, DB, is: yep, it’s real.

Gotta love the fact that the future of warfare is in DARPA’s hands, in fact, that future will look amazingly different given that 1) a big chunk of the effort is geared toward unmanned fighting. That is, remote controlled, Nintendo Xbox joystick fighting. Dudes in the cubicle next to yours will clock their eight-hour workday fighting HUMANS on the other side of the e planet with remote controlled “fighting vehicles.” Flying drones and automated soldiers dropped in via parachute (and the best part is that they will ‘stage’ wars by shooting the equipment into orbit and when the time is right, drop it all where it’s needed]. Genius and terrifying.

So, yeah, from the hardware to the software and the heavy equipment to the delicate stuff: DARPA’s our team! At least as much as we know…I’d say about 90% of their work is classified.

Just a guess. - Ty
Dunno, really.

Sounds & Sights

in sounds in order this weekend:

sick like jesus set
the notorious KOL set
slow blues set

in sights in order this weekend:

the boy with the biggest balls
ukulele sue

if this means nothing to you, blame bush



There is a deal. And, here is that deal. I've been friends with and collaborating with the Otter Prince, Richard Powell, for nearly 10 years. While his gifts and his talents have always been appreciated, I have yet to publicly acknowledge something that we've all always knew: he's a bad motherfucker. He's an artist. He is an NBA All-Star. He's a gangster.

While working on the Kingdom of Leisure 10-year retrospective project, I've gone back through years of archive rehearsal and performance recordings and have re-discovered a hugeness. From Monkeyboy through The Great Escape, brilliance shines through. It's not that I forgot, but that I really had no idea what we held in our hands. Grenades!

Anyone hearing "The Floods of Lexington Pacheco" for the first time - anyone who knows shit from chocolate - knows what they are hearing. That's all set. But, it's fascinating for me to hear, again, the notes leading to today -- the honing of improvisation skills, the discovery of musical communication skills, and the development of unabashed confidence.

In July 1996, he told me that he had recorded some songs into the telephone answering machine, "But I could never play the songs for anyone." Oh, and there were some drums in his basement left from a departed group house member. Oh, indeed.

In April 2006, he told me to fly out to play a gig, "Let's back up Dan for the hell of it." Oh, and there are some drums at the venue. Oh, indeed.

As a songwriter, singer, guitarist, and producer, much respect and acknowledgement from me. Here's to the Reverend DJ Ritchie-Scratchy: keep following the calling. Stay retarded.



Ask Ty...May 24

Q: I find as I get older that I have to wash my ass a lot more frequently. Like, my ass-morphology has changed such that my buttcrack is now generating additional funk. Or I'm in the shower after a long day and some 12-hour old micro-turd drops out from between my cheeks.

What's that about and do I need to re-learn how to wipe? – RP, California

Ty: RP, good question and an even better observation. Tell me about it! Just the other day, I had to dig out the gnarliest…. Never mind. Yes, as we age, we expand and, sadly, as we age, we become more, say, hirsute.

Feces are generally sticky, it sticks to our fat, hairy asses in ways we, as kids, couldn’t even begin to comprehend. We eat fairly large portions of American foods and given our American metabolism, we don’t absorb as much as we could (especially since most of what we eat is crap anyhow <- get it?). We poop more and toilet paper competes with our fat, hairy asses for adhesion. Do you have to learn to wipe again? Probably not since you’ve obviously given it some thought. But, I’ve discovered that I’m now at a socio-economic status where I can afford the premium TP. That is, the good shit! From Cottonelle (Kimberly-Clark) alone there is Ripples, Ultra, and Aloe and Vitamin E.

On might argue that the future of ass wiping is looking backwards. That is, the corporations have discovered that if they sell flushable wipes to adults, the adults will use ‘em; just like baby wipes. Nothing beats the moist wipe. Nothing except the bidet. No shit!

Biffy is the shit! For the fraction of the cost of installing a bidet or getting a bidet top for you toilet, you can get the Biffy attachment. Ass as clean as a summer day is long!

Just a guess. - Ty


A Tie

Wore a tie to work today.

I don’t normally wear a tie. In fact, I seldom wear one. In fact, I'm kind of a slob. So what happens when I wear a tie to work? On a Tuesday. For no apparent reason? Questions. "So, er, why the tie?" "Hey, look who’s wearing a tie." "Hey, it’s Ty in a tie." Well, that’s not a question, but you get the point. "Job interview?" "Big meeting?"

It's all pretty silly.

They stop. They stare. They point. I could work with a sneaky pal and pick all their pockets, I could. I could run for office. I could whip it off and strangle ‘em all. If I wanted. Funny thing, a tie.

I don’t really have a good answer. Maybe I just put it one without reason. Maybe I am needy of attention. Perhaps it’s a clever distraction from other inadequacies I have.

Dunno, really.



"Backslash" in Usage


The Oxford Pocket Dictionary of Current English; 2006
back·slash / bak-slaSH/
• n. Comput. a backward-sloping diagonal line (\), used to separate file and folder names in a path statement.

© The Oxford Pocket Dictionary of Current English 2006, originally published by Oxford University Press 2006.

THE KINGDOM OF LEISURE "One Fine Ride" ... The Washington Post; July 9, 1999; Mark JenkinsTHE KINGDOM OF LEISURE "One Fine Ride" Powder Monkey Byline: Mark Jenkins Edition: FINAL Section: Weekend "Double-u, backslash, space, smartbomb," chant Ty Hardaway and Rick Walkling in "I Like Smartbomb," one of 13 distinctively outlandish shuffles ...



Retarded Set in Sounds

Kentlands Living



On To Something

Okay, the Bren's been parousing my "singles" playlist on my iPod (when not watching the videos of her as a "little girl"). Over the past couple of days, she's refined her tastes accordingly.

She's into (over and over):

Surfing on a Rocket - AIR
Jocko Homo - Devo (aka, "the Devo song")
I Am The Walrus - The Beatles
Possum Kingdom - The Toadies
Cold Beverage - G. Love

She's okay with:

Where'd the Cheese Go? Pt. 1 - Ween
Jungle Boogie - Kool and the Gang
I Think I Love You - The Partridge Family [Seriously, classic pop construction]

She poo-pooed:

With My Own Two Hands - Ben Harper
Go On - The Elected



...don't know what it was, but the Bren insisted that we play Air's "Surfiing on a Rocket" over and over the entire ride to work.

"Surfing on a Rocket" is from Air's Talkie Walkie album (and made somewhat famous in a Nissan Pathfinder ad).

Catching Up 123

1) Driving on the on-ramp from Sam Eig to 270 S, notice something odd in rear view mirror. Think, "hey, why is that car sideways?" Yep, eats it big time. Beefs! Gets sideways and into wet grass...spins around twice, hits front and rear of car on guard rail. Surreal, slo-mo, all that. Distracting.

I would have stopped (and instinct suggested I should), but not did the volume of traffic prohibit me from going back, but having the child in the car made that more risky than comfortable.

2) In #1 lane (fast lane/carpool lane/HOV lane) in slow and go traffic and notice woman on far shoulder of the other side of freeway. Smoking car. She's pouring oil into engine. She's wearing a white work pantsuit.... Ever pour oil onto a hot engine block? Pouf! Engine fire. Distracting. The last time I saw that move was in '86 in Kwiatkowski's Audi 5k.

3) Off ramp from 270 spur to Wisconsin. Quickly slowing traffic...wait...why is my antilock system engaged? Oh, oil. Oh, there's a huge Cadillac is sliding toward me from behind. Dang. We work it out. But...distracting.


Catching Up ABC

A) Okay, my voter registration change confirmation came yesterday - I am officially (and perhaps temporarily) "UNaffiliated with a political party." So what if I cannot vote in the Democrat primary? I'm out of the quagmire. I've pulled my troops (and my money). I'm a free agent.

B) I saw him looking at me from across the station. I tried to turn away, to pretend that I was preoccupied, but he hobbled his gimpy ass toward me, crutches churning like a paddle wheel on a riverboat. Dang!

"Sir, you look like a truly kind man," began the solicitation. What kind of sucker do I look like? I thought I reeked of cynicism and distance. Here it goes, "I am not like the type of people that ordinarily do this, but I have run into some very bad luck. I can see that you understand that this kind of thing happens to people." Normally, if the pitch is good enough (or unique enough), I can spare a couple of bucks or something.

I offer empathy, "Gee, I know things can be tough...uh, we're all probably just a moment or two away from catastrophic bad luck, heh-heh...but, I'm on my way to pick up my daughter...." Yes, falling into the trap, he continues without breaking stride, "yes, I am certain you are an excellent father, I am sure of that, but I am trying to scrounge up five dollars so I can get...." It all jumbles here. I'm annoyed now, he's three inches from my face, and it doesn't appear that he really needs the crutches. I'm thinking, how am I the mark here? Out of all these suckers, me? How could that be?

So, I say, "Look, normally, I'd be happy to share a little bread, but I don't have a cent on me now." With that, he says, "Sir, that is generous of you and I appreciate your kindness, really I do...there is an ATM right there...."

Whatever. I'm the sucker. Needless to say, he didn't get a cent.

C) Found a file label in the elevator this morning: "RT 41. DEATH - SPIRAL" - WTF?!