Annabelle Echo Chicago

Esteban Colon Has Sock Trouble!

2011-11-14T16:14:00.000-08:00

Pictured above: Esteban Colon Has Sock Trouble at the Union Street Gallery on Saturday Night November 12th 2011

Esteban Colon is the Challenge Course Supervisor at Irons Oaks Environmental Learning Center Greater Chicago Area | Recreational Facilities and Services

Current: Editor in Chief of Exact Change Only at Exact Change Press,
Co founder/Member at Waiting 4 the Bus Poetry Collective, Poet/ Spoken Word Performer...

Happy Halloween Your Chicago Sponsors!

2011-10-27T16:08:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween from The Chicken Soup Suit Company
& Shiver Brand Dairy & Creamery.

Chicago Poetry Brothel

2011-10-05T14:48:00.000-07:00

Friday, the 21^st of October 2011 8 pm until Midnight

Thalia Hall: 1227 W. 18^th St., Chicago IL

Special Guest & Special pre-show event: Karen Abbott author of

Sin in the Second City& American Rose discusses her new book.

Guest Musicians: The Loneliest Monk

Burlesque Performers: Pearl Pistol

$10 at door, $5 if dressed Victorian

Chicago Poetry Brothel

7th Annual Printers’ Ball: IT’S ALIVE!

2011-07-30T14:11:00.000-07:00

The 7th Annual Printers’ Ball: IT’S ALIVE! was a lot of fun!
I snagged a copy of Stop Smiling magazine featuring Lee Hazelwood.
There was so much to do and see I wish I could be in 3 places at once.
The recent storms and hot weather in Chicago have worn me out so I didn't have enough energy to do it all! But I saw a lot of great old and new friends. Thanks to all who came and participated.

Iron Street Farm Opens in Bridgeport!

2011-06-21T08:28:00.000-07:00

For more info go to Iron Street Farm.

Happy Fathers’ Day 2011 @ Lincoln Park Zoo

2011-06-14T00:00:00.000-07:00

Happy Fathers’ & Uncles’ Day 2011
Pictured Above: A Swan is Born @ The Lincoln Park Zoo

Happy 11th Birthday to Emmett !

2011-05-11T15:07:00.000-07:00

Edsel Ford Wong: Meanest Waiter in San Francisco

2011-05-01T20:00:00.000-07:00

Bleary Eyes Exhausted with Disdain
Focused Halfway between a
Gaze and a Glare
Suddenly and Silently
Pierce a Billowing
Cloud Gate Circle of Steam
Ascending from Sam Wo’s Kitchen
to a Fog Filled yet
Sunny Dining Room Above...

I’d been to San Francisco on vacation before. I was so enchanted with the place I couldn’t stand to leave. But I was only age 14 at the time so I had to return home to Chicago with my family. Eight years later I was an adult so I could afford to plan a trip there with my friend from college, Mari. I went to the Chicago Public Library to research the city by the bay. During the early eighties the library wasn’t what it is now. The overflow of books was stored in an old warehouse by the river. Back then, I found only one book Let’s Go U.S.A.— The Budget guide to the U.S.A. written by Harvard Student Agencies. I couldn’t check it out at that time so I had to write down the pertinent information. Today, however there are at least 20 travel books about San Francisco that can be checked out. I checked the current record at Chicago's Harold Washington Library and found 2 copies of the 1982 edition that now can be checked out. Back then, I was shocked at the dearth of information I found in that edition about San Francisco. The book had only ½ a page or less about the city. Never the less the information that was there was heart stopping. It said to be careful if you went to China Town because that’s where could be found the meanest waiter in San Francisco, Edsel Ford Wong. The paragraph warned: do not under any circumstances order any soft drink from him especially Coke™. If you dared he would yell at you, “No Coke! Go cross street!” I scribbled the address down: Sam Wo Restaurant, 813 Washington Street San Francisco, CA. I was psyched. I now had a reason to live. Whatever it took, I was going to meet the meanest waiter in San Francisco, Edsel Ford Wong.
About 2 weeks later I boarded the California Zephyr. On the way it stopped in Galesburg IL where my friend Mari boarded. We were on our way. I was ecstatic. The train ride was blissful and exciting. Starr McGregor, the café attendant regaled us with wistful stories of life on the rails. Although I assumed his life must at times be exciting and interesting his eyes and his descriptions and observations conveyed some regret and bitterness as the sun set across the changing landscape behind him.
After 3 days and 2 nights of travel through plains, mountains and desert we arrived in Oakland California. The place was much quieter than I expected. It was an early summer evening. The sun still hadn’t dipped below the horizon. I saw only one man walk down an empty street. I couldn’t wait to board the shuttle across the Oakland Bay Bridge to San Francisco. This place was too peaceful and sunny. I needed fog and turmoil.
My friend Bob, who I had met in Alaska the year before, met us at the shuttle terminal. He drove a beat-up VW bus circa 1968. He grew up in northern California so he knew his way around what natives like to call The City.
If I knew then what I knew now I would have insisted upon staying at the Youth Hostel at Fort Mason near the Fishermen’s Wharf. But at this time Bob was quite flush with cash from growing the state’s most profitable crop so we stayed at a typical mid-priced tourist motel. Not nearly as exhilarating or beautiful as staying at Fort Mason with it’s view of the Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz and its fragrant breezes filled with sea air and eucalyptus. We had two weeks to see and experience some of the countless sites: Golden Gate Park, Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz, City Lights Book Store, the twists and turns traveling down Lombard Street and Coit Tower on Telegraph hill with it’s beautiful WPA murals inside near the top. But as much as I was enjoying San Francisco as if it was just one big amusement park for grownups, I couldn’t stop thinking about one thing that I wanted more than anything else in this world: meeting Edsel Ford Wong, the meanest waiter in San Francisco. I knew it wouldn't be easy to convince Mari and Bob that Sam Wo's was the only acceptable choice of restaurant in China Town. They had no idea why when China Town was teeming with great restaurants I would only be satisfied to eat there. We wound around the maze of foggy streets through China Town for what seemed like hours. Finally we arrived. Like almost everything else in San Francisco the actual experience surpassed the dream of what it would feel like. My heart beat fast. Mari and Bob looked at me as if I were crazy. Unlike any other restaurant I'd ever seen, we had to enter through a narrow steam shrouded kitchen. Embarrassed and feeling like invaders we squeezed passed cooks exhausted from constant stirring who stared at us disdainfully through clouds of malodorous and pungent vapors emanating from enormous shining silver pots. There was nowhere else to go now but up a slender staircase to a relatively sunny dining area. The long tables and benches gave an illusion of more space than was actually in the cramped room. Mari and Bob suspected nothing as we settled in to our seats. All the while I was filled with trepidation. What if Edsel wasn’t there? I’d travel across the continent to meet him. The seconds ticked by like hours. My heart and head pounded with anticipation. All of a sudden an old fat Chinese man appeared from out of the shadows. Could this be him? I looked at his name tag. It read EDSEL in white engraved letters against a shiny black plastic background. I was relieved yet giddy. This was the happiest moment of my life. I knew I had to plan every thing I said to him with precision. I had to pick just the right moment to pop the question. To begin our meal we all ordered something called rice soup. It was just awful. Kind of like eating salty fish flavored gruel. Before our entrée arrived I started to feel quite thirsty from our journey and from walking through the ersatz kitchen sauna below. I felt dizzy from apprehension and dehydration. Edsel had seemed quite nice so far but as soon as he placed upon our table the steaming plates heaped with savory delights I knew this was it. I heard loud roaring as the blood rushed from inside my head dimming the light as it attempted to travel through my eyes to my brain. Bob and Mari shook me back to consciousness. “Edsel,” I begged. My voice quivered. “Edsel, I’m so thirsty. Could I please have a Coke-a-Cola?” His eyes became black with fury. He yelled at me: “No Coke! Go cross street!” This was the moment I had been waiting for my whole life. I smiled at him sweetly. Mari and Bob were completely nonplussed. “OK, Edsel. Please just bring us some water…” Soon Edsel returned with a glistening silver pitcher filled with ice water. To show his deep contempt and disapproval he provided only the smallest possible cups to drink from. They actually weren’t beverage cups at all. They were tiny white corrugated paper cups that are customarily used to put a daub of ketchup or salad dressing. I was so pleased I wanted to jump up from the table and give him a great big hug and kiss. Sensing my deep love for him and despite the unusual hot and humid weather he soon brought a porcelain pot filled with a boiling witches brew of foul smelling tea. Before too long it was time to wind our way out of China Town back to the VW bus. We drove to the top of the hill to the famous bit of Lombard Street so that we could test the old girl’s clutch. It grinded and the engine sputtered as the bus lurched, twisted and slid its way down the steep winding roadway. It was fun but not nearly as exhilarating as meeting Edsel Ford Wong, the meanest waiter in San Francisco.
Edsel Ford Fong has left the building...

Vernal Equinox Chicken Dance!

2011-03-17T16:36:00.000-07:00

St. Patrick’s Day: The Chicago Matadors

2011-03-17T00:00:00.000-07:00

One for the Books: I Remember the Geisel

2011-03-03T14:26:00.000-08:00

One for the Books: I Remember the Geisel by Annabelle Echo
Even Mrs. Schuchter, a nice old lady from the neighborhood, called my Great Uncle, Louis H. Teclo, “Uncle Lou”.
Uncle Lou spent every Sunday dinner with me and my immediate family.
His favorite topic of conversation was “the Boys”, his 70 something year old friends that he hung out with once or twice a week: Al Winicker, a happy-go-lucky widower, Charlie Bloom, a sad, elegant and urbane bachelor and “the Geisel” who’s ill manners monopolized Uncle Lou’s Sunday monologue.
The Geisel would end up soused on 10 martinis by the end of each and every get-together with the Boys.
Although he always complained about the Geisel, Uncle Lou never stopped spending time with him.
Stranger still, was the fact that I too was spending a lot of time with the Geisel and didn’t even know it!
As far as I was concerned, I never even met the Geisel. And this had nothing to do with Martinis.
I spent my summers at Promontory Point, a lakefront park on the south side of Chicago.
There I often met up with several “Beach Bums” who regularly would make an appearance to swim, sun bathe or just hang out.
My favorite beach friend was Jim Lessing, a 70 something year old retiree who always kept me laughing and in high spirits.
Now, imagine rewinding the days back in time a bit to the dead of winter. The sky is dark by 4PM and the air temperature is well below zero:
I was riding #6 CTA Bus, returning home at Rush Hour. Across the street and kitty corner from my Uncle Lou’s East Park Tower apartment, several floors of the Del Prado Hotel were engulfed in flames.
Fire fighters incased in ice battled the blaze long into the night.
Now imagine fast-forwarding the days not too far and return to the balmy breezes of summer:
The usual suspects had gathered to commiserate the ghastly winter we had endured and celebrate the perfect present.
We started talking about the Del Prado fire. Jim had been in a half conscious stupor when the smell of smoke and maybe a smoke alarm roused him.
“Damn it!” he thought. “I burned another T.V. dinner!”
But before he could get to the kitchen, he could barely discern through greasy black smoke the ice-covered silhouette of a shivering fireman clinging to a ladder right outside of his window.
To get his attention, Jim threw a chair clear through the closed window.
Glittering glass exploding outward mingled with sparkling air crystals, showering the fireman.
At the same time, gushing water from a firehose doused Jim head to toe.
Somehow the two men became one clinging animated ice sculpture shivering slowly and gradually lower down the ladder to safety.
Luckily Jim who was kind of skinny except for his beer gut, had a friend nearby who could lend him warm dry clothing. However he described his friend whom he called, Lou, as portly.
Jim laughed about and described how funny he looked walking around, swimming in Lou’s oversized yet dapper apparel.
After hearing this story something clicked in my head. This was very strange:
Uncle Lou as much as he complained about the Geisel never once mentioned this rather unusual incident or a friend named Jim or how he helped him out when he was in such desperate need. I don’t recall him even talking about the Del Prado fire.
But I figured it out. My friend Jim and my uncle’s friend the Geisel were one and the same!

Nozzles the Movie!

2011-02-14T00:00:00.000-08:00

They call me Nozzles, the Wizard of Cheeze. But for short, most people know me as just Nozzles. Currently and for most of my life I’ve lived “off the grid” and hidden in the mists of time and shadows at the now defunct Illinois Central train stations at 12th Street, Roosevelt Road. Rumor has it that I may possibly be the anonymous & elusive graffiti artist everyone is buzzing about.
For years I’ve worked as a pitch man for Yum Brand Instant Frozen Cafe & Nozzles Brand Cheezy Whizard “The Spray” Giant Size Spray in your mouth Cheeze...
According to my current wife, Pam Crisco, Cheez Whiz never came in a spray can!
Reddi-wip is the brand of nitrogen-or-isobutane-propelled, sweetened whipped cream produced by ConAgra Foods. It is sold in the following varieties: Original, Extra-Creamy, Light, Fat-Free, Non-Dairy, and Chocolate.
The Original and Extra-Creamy come in 7oz. and 14oz. cans. All other varieties, except Chocolate, come in 7oz. cans only; with Chocolate available in 6.5oz. cans only. Personally I prefer consuming Reddi-Wip the Chocolate variety, especially, on its own, presumably - as is popular with many people - dispensing it straight from the can into one's mouth.)
Despite being available in an aerosol can, it should be treated as regular cream: sealed and refrigerated when not being used. Nitrous oxide, the propellant used in Reddi-wip (and approved by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), is the same gas that is used as both a weak anesthetic (primarily by dentists) and a performance enhancing oxidizer in the Street Arts: Culture Jamming & Graffiti for example…
Reddi-wip was invented in 1948 by John Cabell “Bunny” Breckinridge (August 6, 1903 – November 5, 1996) was an American actor and drag queen, best known for his role as “The Ruler” in Ed Wood’s film Plan 9 from Outer Space, his only film appearance. Full disclosure requires that I reveal that “Bunny” is the nephew of my ex wife Annabelle Echo, the editor of this document.
Starting out during the food rationing era of World War II, he invented Sta-Whip as a cream substitute using vegetable oil. After the war, he invented Reddi-wip in 1948, using real cream, along with a new valve more suitable for whipped cream, with fluting to create a pleasant pattern and a tilt-to-open design that pops back to the center to preserve the propellant gases. He applied in 1949 and received a patent for “dispensing valves for gas pressure containers” in 1955. He achieved national distribution in 1954, and sold his company in 1963 to Norton Simon Inc.
Norton Simon merged with Beatrice Foods in 1985. Then, in 1990, it was acquired by ConAgra, Norton Simon's corporate heir. Reddi-wip was parodied in the video game Grand Theft Auto: Vice City as “Giggle Cream.”
New & Improved Cool Whip Aerosol Whipped Topping!
Cool Whip aerosol now has an improved formula that holds its shape better on top of desserts, and an improved canister nozzle that makes it easier to spray, right where you want it!
With this convenient aerosol spray can, you and your kids can have the fun of customizing your own dessert, and satisfy your sweet tooth at the same time!
Cool Whip Aerosol Regular 225g and Cool Whip Aerosol Light 225g Topping is found in the dairy case of your favorite grocer . Cool Whip Light Aerosol Whipped Topping, 25% less fat than Regular Cool Whip Aerosol Whipped Topping
Cool Whip is a brand of imitation whipped cream named a whipped topping by its manufacturer. It is used in North America as a dessert topping and in some no-bake pie recipes. It was generally described as “non-dairy” as it contained no cream or milk and no lactose; however, it did contain the milk derivative casein. In 2010, both skim milk and light cream have been added to Original Cool Whip.
Cool Whip technology was introduced and invented in 1967 by John Cabell “Bunny” Breckinridge a food chemist at General Foods Corporation for the Birds Eye division of General Foods. The key to the technology was the creation of a whipped cream-like product that could be distributed in a frozen state by General Foods and grocery chains and kept in the refrigerator. This had never been done before and represented a major breakthrough in food preservation.
Within two years of introduction, it became the largest and most profitable product in the Birds Eye line of products. Birds Eye later merged with Kraft Foods and Philip Morris, eventually becoming part of Altria Group.
Cool Whip is manufactured in Avon, New York, for the United States and Canadian markets. It is sold in 8 oz. (226 g) and larger plastic tubs produced by Berry Plastics and is distributed through grocery outlets in a frozen state, and is refrigerated in the home prior to serving. Each nine gram serving provides 25 kcal (104650 J) of which 15 kcal (62790 J) is fat.
The varieties currently sold are Original, Extra Creamy, French Vanilla, Light, Reduced Fat, Fat Free and Sugar-Free, made with Splenda. Strawberry is sold seasonally, typically in the summer. Chocolate has now been reintroduced as well. In Canada, the Fat-Free variety is labeled as Ultra-low Fat.
In 2008, Cool Whip was introduced in an aerosol can so as to compete with Reddi-wip. French Vanilla has been discontinued and flavors can only be purchased in 5-6 oz bowls called Dips.
According to a Wired Magazine article, consumers are paying 41¢ per ounce for mostly water and air: twice the cost of homemade whipped cream.
Cool Whip Original is made of water, hydrogenated vegetable oil, high fructose corn syrup, corn syrup, skim milk, light cream, and less than 2% sodium caseinate (a milk derivative), natural and artificial flavor, xanthan and guar gums, polysorbate 60, sorbitan monostearate, and beta carotene (as a coloring). In some markets, such as Canada and the United States, Cool Whip is available in an aerosol can using nitrous oxide as a propellant. Cool Whip was formerly marketed as non-dairy, but in Jewish dietary traditions, Cool Whip was classified as dairy rather than parve (non-meat and non-dairy) because of the sodium caseinate (which is derived from milk). Cool Whip now contains milk and cream.
Cool Whip Aerosol was parodied in the motion picture Ed Wood as “Giggle Cream.”
Easy Cheese is the trademark for a processed cheese product distributed by Kraft Foods, also referred to as aerosol cheese or spray cheese, and is a descendant of squeeze cheese (a semi-solid cheese food from the 1970s packaged in a squeezable plastic tube). It comes packaged in a spray can, much like canned whipped cream and does not require refrigeration. Easy Cheese has its own entry in Sterns’ Encyclopedia of Bad Taste.
Easy Cheese contains milk, water, whey protein concentrate, canola oil, milk protein concentrate, sodium citrate, sodium phosphate, calcium phosphate, lactic acid, sorbic acid, sodium alginate, apocarotenal, annatto, cheese culture, and enzymes
Although sometimes called “aerosol cheese”, its container is not actually an aerosol spray can, because the cheese does not combine with the propellant (nitrogen) to turn into a fine mist upon being sprayed. Rather, the can contains a plastic cap which serves as a barrier and a piston whose movement squeezes the cheese through the nozzle in a solid column when the nozzle is pressed. The propellant, therefore, does not mix with the cheese. This explains why the can has a small rubber plug on its base. Normal aerosol cans are charged with all of their contents through the single opening at the top, but spray cheese cans are separately charged with cheese through the top and propellant through the bottom. The can design also ensures that the cheese can be dispensed with the can upright or inverted.
Cheez Wiz was parodied in the motion picture the Blues Brothers as “Giggle Cream”.
Besides dry toast and French cuisine, it was Elwood Blues’ favorite food in the film.
According to my current wife, Pam Crisco, Cheez Whiz never came in a spray can!
In my new role as Pitch Man for Batter Blaster, I’m today Introducing 3 new flavors of Batter Blaster-- Buttermilk, Organic Whole Wheat with Brown Sugar & Cinnamon and Double Chocolate. Adding variety to your pancakes and waffles, these new flavors are convenient, healthy and delicious! Of course there’s always the Organic Original Batter Blaster with the same great taste!
Batter Blaster brings you the only fresh, ready-to-cook pancake and waffle batter in a pressurized can. Its unique, patent-pending process allows Batter Blaster to make fresh, healthy, delicious Pancakes in Minutes™.
Just shake, blast, cook and enjoy!
PAM is a cooking spray currently owned and distributed by ConAgra. Its main ingredient is canola oil, a fat.
It was introduced in 1961 by John Cabell “Bunny” Breckinridge who, with Arthur Meyerhoff, started Gibraltar Industries to market the spray originally as Bunny Brand cooking spray. The name PAM is initialism for “Product of Arthur Meyerhoff”. In 1971, Gibraltar Industries merged with American Home Products (now Wyeth) and became part of the American Home Foods portfolio. In 1996, AHF was acquired by Hicks, Muse, Tate and Furst Inc., and C. Dean Metropoulos and Company from American Home Products, becoming International Home Foods, which in turn was acquired by ConAgra in 2000.
PAM is marketed in various flavors, such as “butter” and “olive oil”, meant to impart the flavor of cooking with those ingredients. Flavors such as “lemon” or “garlic” are also offered. PAM also markets high-temperature sprays formulated for use when grilling, etc., and one containing flour suitable for dry-cooking as in baking. PAM is marketed as a nominally zero-calorie alternative to other oils used as lubricants when using cooking methods such as sautéing or baking (US regulations allow food products to claim to be zero-calorie if they contain less than 5 calories per Reference Amount Customarily Consumed and per labeled serving. Similar sprays are offered by other manufacturers.

2011 is the Year of the Rabbit

2011-02-03T00:00:00.000-08:00

Xin xiang The True-Hearted (1992 &1998) AKA Heart Strings

Happy Chinese New Year 2011; Year of the Rabbi t

Cullman Yen sings “Smooth” in honor of Chinese New Year:

Film Director Sun Zhou

Memphis

2011-01-20T21:55:00.000-08:00

Memphis
a single headlight
pierces the indigo ink
of morning mist
what I expected would be
a shiny red trolly
was instead covered in a
flat faded still pale
base coat
the car’s paint job
unfinished and dull since
I guessed the 1940s
absorbed Times’
silent secrets...

Some Velvet Silver Spurs

2011-01-20T21:40:00.000-08:00

Silver Spurs
Some Velvet Morning
Sonny was no
Lee Hazlewood
Cher knew that...
Nancy Sinatra was one
Lucky Lady!

Polish Prince of Poetry

2010-09-09T12:18:00.000-07:00

The Polish Prince of Poetry, Adam Lizakowski studies now @ Columbia College Chicago.

That Special Day in 1996

2010-08-23T16:37:00.001-07:00

Really Good Dog Chow: a Salute to Donna Pecore

2010-08-02T15:23:00.000-07:00

Really Good Dog Chow: a Salute to Donna Pecore:

Donna Pecore’s Pet
Pit Bull “Apache”
Claims he’s “one eighth
Mighty Choctaw”

3 Poems & Come with Me...

7 Earth Years!

2010-08-01T00:00:00.000-07:00

BP Gulf Oil Spill : Would Oiled Birds Be Better Off Euthanized Than Cleaned?

2010-06-10T11:55:00.000-07:00

BP Gulf Oil Spill : Would Oiled Birds Be Better Off Euthanized Than Cleaned?

HuffPostGreen Meet-Up & Rally - Chicago - June 8, 2010

2010-06-10T11:53:00.000-07:00

Gulf oil spill protest march in Chicago

2010-06-10T11:51:00.000-07:00

Gulf oil spill protest march in Chicago

W8ting 4 the Bus: Stephanie Lane Sutton

2010-06-05T00:00:00.000-07:00

Friday, June 4th 2010
St. Paul's Cultural Center/Acme Art Works
2215 W North Avenue Chicago, IL 60647
W8ting 4 the Bus &
Xact Change Only presents:
Stephanie Lane Sutton

X Husband Haiku Audio Performance

2010-06-02T13:04:00.000-07:00

Vaca Sacra

2010-05-31T00:00:00.000-07:00

Excerpts from Vaca Sacra by Antibody Dance.
performed in Puebla, Mexico (@ the Festival de Teatro Susana Alexander), and Chicago, Illinois (@ The Op Shop & The Archer Ballroom), in Spring of 2010.
performed by Silvita Diaz Brown, Craig Rusty Donavin, and Adam Rose

Haiku High School Harrison, Who are You?

2010-03-04T17:00:00.000-08:00

Local poet Margaret Brady, my good buddy , is becoming quite the celebrity around the Chicagoland Area. She and other artists and poets gathered their talents and time to transform the Red Line’s Harrison subway station into a gallery of Haiku.
( You might have to scroll down to play 1minute movie )
She recently earned a Graduate Degree in Poetry from Columbia College Chicago.
Please check back to this post later this week for gallery photos & read the Chicago Tribune: Haiku for the walls at Harrison stop inspire CTA, students by By Karoun Demirjian Tribune reporter January 31, 2008
The sculpture behind Margaret is by Niki de Saint Phalle and is from the Niki in the Garden exhibit last year at Chicago’s Garfield Park Conservatory.

MYSTERY AT THE PRINTERS ROW BOOK FAIR

Posted by : C.J. Laity on Saturday, June 07, 2008 - 11:20 PM
FREAK STORM SHUTS DOWN BOOK FAIR, POETRY SHOWCASE GOES ON...
Posted by : C.J. Laity on Monday, June 09, 2008 - 11:39 AM
Yammer Reunion link from Spinster Woman.
I’ve met and admired some of these folks.
The rest I hope to meet in the near future…
Stay Tuned!

Click Parchment to Read Haiku by Annabelle Echo!

Want More Haiku? My X, Mr. Mothballs says “Click Here”

Chicago Blues Festival ‘09

2009-06-18T09:55:00.000-07:00

Frank “Little Sonny” Scott Jr.

Save Maxwell Street’s Heritage!
The Maxwell Street Foundation

Chicago Blues Festival ‘09

Happy 42nd Birthday Anderson Cooper!

2009-06-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Editor's note: This post was originally published June 3rd 2007
A lot has changed since 2007. For one thing, my former neighbor became the first African American P.O.T.U.S. But not everything: Anderson even appears to be wearing the same shirt. And not much has changed in House & Senate: The Coservadems seem determined to frustrate many of our president’s progressive bills. Things are also worse around the world for a lot of people: Since this is supposed to be a birthday greeting of sorts, I’ll just mention three things: the Niger Delta Oil Conflict, The Mountain Top Coal Mining Expansion in Appalachia and last but not least, The Amazon Rain forest Ecuador Texaco Oil Pollution Lawsuit. Now that he’s 42, one part of me hopes that AC will slow down a little and stop racing around the planet like a crazy man yet another part wishes he would report more on his show about these aforementioned stories.
Happy 42nd Birthday, Anderson Cooper…
On the Web:
Previous Year’s Birthday…

God Awful crap about swallowing chewing tobacco !

2009-04-07T02:27:00.001-07:00

1:27am Tuesday Morning: I was blissfully listening to Coast to Coast am on the ABC affiliate, WLS am radio in Chicago when the show was abruptly cut off: “We are so sorry to interrupt with so called technical difficulties...We hope you enjoy this God Awful crap about swallowing chewing tobacco and all you can eat truck stops...” Not only is this insulting to Chicagoans, it’s insulting to truckers who much smarter than to listen to this! What is wrong with you? You have no shame! The airwaves are a public trust. Don’t you know that?

Alan Emerson Hicks Presents...

2009-02-11T09:09:00.000-08:00

Alan Emerson Hicks presents the Emerson Time Machine MMVII 2008

Alan Emerson Hicks
Sculptures, Drawings, Painted Panels
Art Illusionist / Fiber Artist
Alan Emerson Hicks was born in Chicago, Illinois. He attended Lindblom Technical High School and received a Bachelor's of Fine Art Degree from Illinois State University. Studying sculpture at ISU gave him the opportunity to work with a very progressive and avant-garde professor, Catherine Johnson. A recent graduate student of Rutgers University, she turned her sculpture class into a multi-media work experience, emphasizing spatial relationships. While in school he also studied woodworking, metal smithing, drawing and printmaking. After graduating he decided to begin his career as an artist. He found a fascination with beads and jewelry making initially, making mostly necklaces that used macrame techniques with glass, clay, brass and semi-precious stone beads. After a few years of collecting and stringing beads he made the decision to start sculpting again, he used the techniques learned while jewelry making to make large textured and heavily painted wall pieces (wall jewelry). These wall sculptures had themes of gods, mythological creatures and folklore. This work was gratifying but didn't connect him to the passion his work had to offer
In 2000 Alan met a poet/musician Daniel Godston who challenged him to produce performance art. Although he had studied a little performance art in school, he didn't feel comfortable with the medium. He did like the challenge and idea of creating a new kind of art form. The first performance was a disaster, but it did connect him to the passion that was missing from the earlier pieces. There was an immediacy with the performance pieces and they didn't use paint, a material he would later stop using in his sculpture. The performance art pieces would be developed into works he calls "temporal sculptures." These temporal sculptures would also influence his studio work as well, becoming fiber art sculptures. It was his passion for work that looks immediate that would drive him. He also enjoys working in front of an audience. Themes of gods and mythology are still used in his studio work. Ideas of magic and the manipulation of time are used in the performance pieces. "If you make art wholeheartedly, it will inform you of the direction it should take. Artist receive from art exactly what they put into their art form." Alan feels the most important aspect of creating art is making art.

June 30th 2006
The irrepressible, enchanting & enthralling Alan Emerson Hicks performed & created a temporal sculpture to illustrate poetry performed and written by Guinness Book World Record nominee, artist & wordsmith Lee Groban.

Mercury Cafe
1505 W. Chicago Ave.
Chicago, Illinois
Tel: (312) 455-9924
On the Web:
Lee Groban
Lee Groban Wikipedia

CARQUEST World of Wheels Smashing Success!

2009-02-03T11:40:00.000-08:00

CARQUEST World of Wheels at McCormick Place in Chicago January 23,24 & 25 was a Smashing Success!

Quick Spin

An audience with the ‘King of Kustomizers’

January 29, 2009

By JEFF TAYLOR SearchChicago – Autos Writer

Meet Vincent P. Falk... “Twirling Man”

2009-01-26T18:00:00.000-08:00

Who is the “Twirling Man” a.k.a. “Fashion Man” in the TECHNICOLOR SUIT?
Meet Vincent P. Falk...
You’ve seen him dancing on the bridges or spinning outside the TV news studios.
Who is that guy? His story will surprise you.
Vincent P. Falk: a Life in Color
http://www.zweeblefilms.com/
Vincent: A Life In Color

The Ballad of Vincent

CHICAGO TRIBUNE: THE MAN IN THE SUIT JUNE 24
Update: The man in the colorful suits undergoes eye surgery
By Colleen Mastony December 31, 2008
Jennifer Burns is the founder of Zweeble Films, with
“Vincent: A Life in Color” marking her debut as Director/Producer.
“Vincent: A Life in Color” Press Kit
I ran into Vincent on his way out of the Carquest: World of Wheels at McCormick Place in Chicago. I congratulated him on his film debut. My review of Carquest: World of Wheels is now posted.

Growing up in Chicago -- The Early Years

2008-08-17T10:00:00.000-07:00

My new friend Margaret B. emailed this to me. She is a little older than me. I’m a city girl and she grew up in the suburbs of Chicago. I was intrigued by the similarities and contrasts of our remembrances of growing up around the same time. She told me she didn’t mind me posting what she wrote. My response is below.

I Remember . . . The Early Years

I remember…
...our first phone number: Sycamore (SY)5 - 5555.
...being frightened of the dark, the light, and what came after the light — the bark of thunder, angry voices.
...listening to my parents argue at night, downstairs in the kitchen.
...detesting the saddle shoes my mother made me wear to school.
...picking out a pair of hideous blue frames for my first pair of glasses.
...“hands above the sheets” when being tucked in at night.
...scampering down to the basement (southwest corner – the safest spot) during wild summer storms and tornado warnings.
...making cavernous snow forts in the front evergreen bushes.
...Kiki, our black cat, having kittens in my mom’s dresser drawer; she had to wash all the blood-stained clothing. And then, years later, watching Kiki seize and die in the middle of the living room floor.
...Miss Popp, my second grade teacher, telling us that JFK had been assassinated. And then, five years later, waking up June 6, 1968, and wondering if Bobby Kennedy had survived the night. ...being very, very angry at God that he hadn’t.
...my mother screaming out the front living room window at the kids playing in the street; the noise bothered her.
...my mother smoking Chesterfields on the back porch, in the dark, night after night. Her yelling, “I’m going to take off my shoe and paddle you!”
...hearing a neighbor lady down the street say our mother had a sickness for which there was no cure.
...my first, favorite stuffed toy: Rover, a dog.
...my father taking us to Prince Castle for ice cream on Sunday. ...making black cows.
...my father driving us to the beach (Lake Michigan) on a hot day, and throwing up my grape Nehi pop in the back seat of the car. ...my mother went with us that time, because she helped me.
...the thrill of stopping at McDonald’s after a day at the beach. (My stomach had settled by then.)
...the homesickness (and terror) of the first day at St. Joseph’s grade school.
...“HotDog Day” at St. Joe’s, and somehow enjoying the odd taste of those shriveled-penis-looking hotdogs.
...writing a letter to Ray Rayner (children’s TV show host) to complain about how he man-handled the animals on his show. ...Ray reading my letter on the show, and apologizing for his rough behavior. I ran out of the living room – afraid, embarrassed and ashamed for making waves. I’m proud, now, of what I did.
...Garfield Goose, and Kukla, Fran & Ollie. How did I stand the Three Stooges?
...leaving questionnaires out for the Easter Bunny, and getting up the next morning to read his responses: Q: How long have you been married? A: Too long. Funny, I never recognized my father’s handwriting.
...shopping for a new Easter dress at Sears with my father.
...meatless Fridays in Lent, and having to sit quietly from noon to 3 p.m. on Good Friday — the hours when Christ suffered on the cross. I have a friend I like to call at 3 p.m. on Good Friday every year. When he picks up the phone I say, “Christ died for your sins.” He always knows it’s me.
...having to stay with the Forteirs down the street while my mother was in the hospital; my dad was at work and my four older siblings were all in school.
...playing “Doctor” with Joey Forteir.
...trick-or-treating one rainy night with my father and brother. ...my father holding our two taffy apples, and the slow cascade of caramel down his arms, as he waited in the rain for us.
...dumping out my trick-or-treat bags as soon as I got home, watching it spread out over the living room floor like marmalade on toast.
...trick-or-treating again, at age 24, with my husband and a friend, Pam. We told everyone we were collecting candy for the kids at Happy Day (a center for developmentally disabled children). Which was the truth. Except, I had to take my cut first, of course.
...the first sign of spring — the Dairy Queen re-opening.
...the Dog ‘N Suds Drive-In . . . penny candy from the Ben-Franklin . . . and Jiffy-Pop Popcorn. ...asking my mother one too many times to make some Jiffy-Pop, and seeing the package sail across the length of the living room after she hurled it.
...the measles, and being uninterested in eating anything other than Tootsie Roll Midgees while I convalesced on the living room couch. ...saving the wrappers, every one.
...chicken pot pies that actually had chicken.
...having a crush on Paul from the Beatles, Micky from the Monkees, and James Dean from Rebel Without a Cause and East of Eden. (Dean died the year I was born.) ...my crush on Tony Lee in 5th grade; he reminded me of Gregory Peck in To Kill a Mockingbird.
...having nightmares from watching The Outer Limits TV show, especially the Zanti Misfits – ugly bug creatures with human faces.
...crying during the credits of Lassie every week. When he raised his paw in a farewell salute at the end of each episode, I fell apart. I had never seen anything so sad and sweet. My siblings made fun of me.
...loving the peculiarity of troll dolls, and their crazy purple, orange or green hair.
...visiting my cousin’s bar on the far South Side. Typical Irish bachelor. The Sun-Times did a write-up on him – the last remaining white guy on the South side. Everybody knew him because of the bar; he was only shot once.
...my Aunt Roberta, my mom’s sister — an alcoholic who liked to write poetry. She referred to my uncle as her “first husband,” though he was her only husband.
...visiting my grandmother once (my mom’s mom); she was in bed, and offered me a taste of her beer. That’s my sole memory of the woman.
...Saturday mornings and the smell of fresh cut grass as my father mowed the lawn. ...the Sunday evening dread of school the next day.
...my father disappearing into the basement and the rustle of Christmas wrapping, year after year . . . but still believing in Santa Claus.
...discovering Boo Radley living at the end of our block, and running for my life one summer evening.

I Remember . . . Response to Margaret B. from Annabelle Echo

I remember…
...our first phone number: Museum (MU)5 - 5555
...being frightened of the booming thunder until a playmate convinced me that it was only a loud noise and nothing more.
...listening to my parents’ arguments in the kitchen.
...detesting the triple strap shoes my mother made me wear to school.
...my sister’s perfectly circular frames—her first pair of glasses.
...sleeping through the night with my head completely covered under my sheet, blanket and bedspread to protect myself when sleeping.
...my parents opening all the windows to keep them from breaking during wild summer storms and tornado warnings.
...making cavernous snow angels in the back yard.
...being terrified of cats until I met a gray tabby with green eyes that let me pass her unscathed.
...at age 3 telling our handy man putting up wall paper in the kitchen that JFK had been shot.
...later that week watching Lee Harvey Oswald get shot on live TV at which time my father exclaimed and bolted up from his chair so suddenly his cigarette fell out of his mouth and burned a hole in his shirt.
...crying watching 3 year old John-John when he raised his hand in a farewell salute to his father’s passing casket. I fell apart. I had never seen anything so sad and sweet. We were the same age.
...five years later on June 6, 1968 watching Bobby Kennedy get shot on live TV.
...my mother screaming out the front living room window at my sister and me playing in the street to come inside—it was almost midnight.
...my dad smoking Pall Mall™s on the back porch, in the dark, night after night.
...my mother, holding my hand while crossing the street to our new home telling me that my pediatrician, Dr. Wishengrad had died from a brain tumor.
...my first, favorite toy: Rat Fink, a molded plastic doll from a vending machine at Woolworth’s.
...my parents taking us to Uno’s Pizzeria once a month every summer. ...how dark, cool yet crowded it was and that mother would always have a Martini and that my sister and I would compete to gobble down as much heavenly pizza as our little stomachs would hold.
...on a warm day in June, throwing up 10 cups of grape Kool-aid™ in front of the Good Humor™ Truck that had stopped at the end of the alley.
...the thrill of stopping at Wimpy’s™ after telling my father what happened and how my throw-up looked like purple stew. He bought me a milkshake and a cheese burger. (My stomach had settled by then.)
...my father taking me to the beach (Lake Michigan) on a hot day when I was still in diapers. I was a little embarrassed by the puffy yellow plastic pants that covered them but I immediately felt completely comfortable in the cool water.
...sledding with father. I was having a great time until he insisted we take the sled on the toboggan run. Even as a 4 year old I knew it was a mistake. I begged him to reconsider. At the bottom of the run we both flew off the sled. I was on his lap so he cushioned the fall so I was fine. His back hurt for 10 years. Afterwards we enjoyed hot chocolate in an old wooden shack. ...the ride home in the ’64 Chevy Bel Aire. My feet ached from the cold inside red rubber boots. But they were soon thawed by the heater blowing full blast.
...the utter joy I felt on the last day of school every year at Bret Harte elementary school. We always had a picnic across the street in Jackson Park.
...eating a Park District Hot-Dog that my first boy friend Rip had bought me. I don’t know if it was because I was in love or because we were outside near the lake on a warm breezy day but let me tell you—that was the best Hot-Dog I ever ate.
...Garfield Goose, Romper Room and Captain Kangaroo. I still love the Three Stooges, Charlie Chan and especially W.C. Fields.
...leaving my tooth under my pillow for the Tooth Fairy, and finding a dime in its place in the morning.
...shopping for my doll Babebush at Bargain Town™ with my father.
...fasting on Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement.
...trick-or-treating with my mother and sister. I can’t remember one time when I didn’t have to wear a heavy coat over my costume. It was always freezing and frequently raining.
...dumping out my trick-or-treat bags as soon as I got home, watching it spread out over the back porch like mayonnaise on a bologna sandwich.
..gobbling down candy beyond the edge of discomfort for weeks after.
...trick-or-treating again 2 years ago in Nashville, TN at age 40 somthin’, with my sister and her two kids my nephews Emmett & Carter. ...that for once I didn’t have to wear a coat.
...mumps, and being unable to eat or swallow anything without excruciating pain in my mouth ears and throat. I tried to eat some French toast my Mom had made me. I ran as if I were on fire out the backdoor and spit the mouthful out into the trash can we shared with the next door neighbor.
...chicken pot pies that actually had chicken. ...eating them almost to the exclusion of all other food.
...having a crush on Paul from the Beatles, Davy Jones from the Monkees, James Dean and Elvis Presley.
...my crush on my teenage neighbors the Raven Twins, the Goodman Twins and Lou "Chip" Gdalman.
...having nightmares from watching The Twilight Zone & Lost in Space TV shows.
...loving the peculiarity of troll dolls, and their crazy purple, orange or green hair. I love it that they lived in a dark dank home carved out of an ancient tree.
...hugging my Uncle Genie and crying hysterically when he died much too young.
...spending long hours watching the Cubs & Sox games with my Great Uncle Lou who took over where my grandfather left off and lived with my family until I was a teenager. Every one in the neighborhood called him “Uncle Lou”. No one not even the old ladies called him just “Lou” except for one person: the Geisel. I knew the Geisel as Jim. Both me and Uncle Lou were good friends with this same person but didn’t know it until one day at the beach when the Geisel/Jim told me how his friend Lou kept him from freezing to death after a fire in the middle of January. To alert firemen, Jim threw a chair through the glass of his apartment window. They drenched him with the fire hose. He ran across the street to my uncle’s apartment to get dry clothing. Jim was skinny and my uncle was portly. He laughed when he told me how his friend Lou’s clothes engulfed his small frame. That’s how I figured it out. My uncle complained about his friend the Geisel’s excessive drinking and clowning every Sunday dinner yet he never stopped going out with him and other old timers. He called them the “boys”.
...seeing the ghost of my Grandfather Sam rolling towards me in his wheelchair through the narrow gangway along the side of my building.

Intrepid Newspaper Vender Charles Johnson

2008-07-01T10:58:00.000-07:00

Intrepid Newspaper Vender Charles Johnson
I can’t figure out too much about this guy except he told me once that one of his favorite foods is natural organic unsalted peanut butter.

The Amazing Criswell Predicts:

2008-02-20T16:12:00.000-08:00

I love the Amazing Criswel l. He is some kind of amazing genius. Anyway I was going crazy at work trying to figure and sort out who was printing what because I wanted to provide free printing for the English department. Things got too crazy and hectic when I noticed that many of the classes at Columbia College Chicago are similar and somewhat redundant. Also, believe it or not many of the students seem to have no idea what department their classes are part of. So I came up with a new plan to resurrect Criswell from the Grave.

The Amazing Criswell Predicts:

Greetings, my friend. We are all interested in the future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives. And remember my friend, future events such as these will affect you in the future. You are also interested in printing... a mysterious & unexplainable document. That is why you are here.

And now, for the infinite time, we are asking you to present a Universal $5 print card from the Cashier’s window. Criswell cannot predict what you will print only that you will print on this fateful day. We are bringing you all the evidence, based only on the secret testimony, of the miserable souls, who survived this terrifying ordeal: the incidents, the places. My friend, we cannot keep this a secret any longer.

Let us punish the guilty. Let us reward the innocent.

Just in case I also devised this:

All Students & Alumni must have a UPC Print Card $5
from the Cashier Window: 600 S. Michigan Avenue 3rd Floor.
Limited Free Printing English Dept. Classes Only! (52-0000-00)
Lab Facilitator Reserves the Right to Charge for Any & All Documents!

Criswell Predicts
The Amazing Criswell
The English Department

Beloved Cousin: Lenore M. Feldman

2008-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

My cousin Lenore brought a lot of happiness to the world and I will think of her and miss her for the rest of my life. I offer my sympathy to all who knew and loved her.

Feldman, Lenore M. (Nee Satt) Passed away December 31, 2007, at the age of 80. Beloved wife of Gilbert Feldman. Cherished mother of Jill Feldman and William Feldman. Loving grandmother of Aaron Gunning, Sara Gunning and Daniel Feldman. Also survived by other loving relatives and dear friends. Funeral services will be held on Wednesday, January 2, at 11:00 AM AT THE FUNERAL HOME. Burial to follow at Second Home Cemetery, 3705 S. 43rd St., Milwaukee. Memorial contributions made to Congregation Shalom appreciated. GOODMAN-BENSMAN Whitefish Bay Funeral Home 4750 N. Santa Monica 414-964-3111
Published in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel on 1/1/2008.

ThanksGiving HiJinx from Chicago

2007-12-10T14:19:00.000-08:00

Pictured Above: My top two Lovies each celebrate Thanksgiving’s Eve in their own unique way. Carter weathers a storm to visit the Hyde Park Art Center. I insisted that my nephew Emmett listen to John Ashcroft sing Let the Mighty Eagle Soar at least 3 times while we were gone. He responded by creating the disturbing images above. My question is: How does a kid his age recognize a Reptilian Illuminati conspiracy from listening to a song?

Almost every Thanksgiving eve the wind churns and whirls through Chicago like a Tasmanian devil. Even so, I thought my lucky notwithstanding tacky umbrella printed with pictures of the aforementioned devil would protect us. We survived. I can’t say the same for the fun filled umbrella. It was torn to shreds.

The rest of my family did not have nearly the same affection for it and disappointment at its loss. They lost all patience with it especially when our feet were cold and soaked to the skin. They didn’t realize that its breadth had trapped me in a narrow gangway forcing me to lose control of the shopping cart rolling into the street.
I’m going to miss my lucky umbrella that declared to the world that its owner was a “Real Swinger”. At least I could laugh at the rain.

Frank Zubek’s Elusive Cube @ Millennium Park

2007-05-06T15:33:00.000-07:00

Frank Zubek’s Elusive Cube
The Mathematics of Fermat’s Last Theorem
Millennium Park

Green Festival Success in Chicago!

2007-04-25T18:32:00.000-07:00

Just a Quick word from my Sponsers...

Economic Hitman, John Perkins
Amy Goodman from Democracy Now!
Greg Palast from the BBC
Populist Cowboy Pundit, Jim Hightower
Dennis Kucinich for President in 2008
Green Festivals

Holy Exposition, Batman!

2007-02-04T22:50:00.000-08:00

Annabelle Echo & Baby Carter report on a recent TOP SECRET Bat-Man Exposition & Convention from an undisclosed location. Check out the Echo Report for frequent updates...
Baby Carter Presents: Emmett is Spiderman!

The Shannon Fortunate @ Mercury Café

2007-01-26T23:59:00.000-08:00

Tonight the winsome, mysterious and wonderful Wicker Park musician, singer and composer Shannon Fortune performed at the Mercury Café. Also featured were poets Caroline Johnson, Carolyn Alterio & Ixtaaccihuatl.

Robert Lawrence, Pavel and Marlene Marks will perform on February 23.

Adam Swinford-Wasem, Laurel Grahman and Ani D'Ambrosio & Eric Lab Rat are among the many Chicago poets and artists who have performed and will perform on past and future nights.

Mercury Café Poetry Open Mic is hosted by Vittorio Carli. It's now bi-weekly on the third and last friday of the month at: Mercury Café at 1505 W. Chicago, Chicago, IL (312-455-9924). Featuring poetry, spoken word, standup, performance art, music, puppetry and film. Almost anything goes! No entrance fee.

Shannon Fortune performs underground @Blue Line Subway Station...

Happy Thanksgiving from Chicago!

2006-11-23T23:59:00.000-08:00

From my 2 top Lovies to all of my other Lovies in Chicago, across the United States & Overseas:
Here's hoping you had the Happiest Thanksgiving Ever!

Oprah Goes Shopping: a Seeing (RED) Dis(GRACE)

2006-10-13T00:01:00.000-07:00

Seeing (RED) Dis(GRACE)
Oprah Goes Shopping, Thursday, October 12th 2006
Oprah’s show yesterday was disgraceful hoopla filled spectacle. Maybe some call it a show. I call it one long commercial.
Most of the program involved Oprah and Bono on a shopping spree and promoting products. The products are either (RED) or designated as (RED) Some examples may or may not include: Desi(RED), Inspi(RED) & admi(RED). This shopping frenzy is supposed to provide funds for AIDS medicines and other charities in Africa.
It seemed that every Chicago area GAP employee was on hand sporting gleeful corporate smiles and vacant eyes while surrounding the multiple levels of the flagship store to greet and cheer for Oprah and Bono. The entire sidewalk around the store was shrouded in bright red carpeting. A crowd of fans and camera people along the carpet jostled each other for a suitable view. The store of course was closed to the hoi polloi.
A cheery clerk helped Bono and Oprah pick out their (RED) treasures. I noticed the name BONO stenciled on some red Converse Hi-Tops. There were also Converse Hi-Tops with an African inspired design. When I saw them though I worried about who the designer was: Had she given up her home on a small plot of land to make room for a shoe factory? Instead of growing her own food was she now working 12 hours a day in the shoe factory so she could now pay for imported food?
The same spectacle unfolded at the Motorola, Apple & Armani stores on Michigan Avenue.
But isn’t buying more consumer goods that use more resources counter intuitive? Much of this stuff ends up in landfills in the United States and ironically in the case of Adult size red t-shirts as shabby faded garments enveloping small children in Africa. How many poverty stricken Africans are wearing grubby threadbare “We are the World” sweatshirts from the 1980s?
Friday, September 29, 2006 Anderson Cooper explained on the AC360º Blog why a lot of senseless killing is happening in the African Congo: Most of it involves mining rights for essential minerals for hi-tech gadgets that make life easier for people living in industrialized countries.
This is how I view the situation: Things are getting worse all over the world because of greed. The “in crowd” who control most of the wealth ─ corporations, government leaders lobbyists etc. only care about themselves, about grabbing as much as they can and in having power and control over others. They play weaker groups against each other no matter what the cost and they sit back with smirks on their faces and laugh.
I’m not a doctor with degrees but I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that AIDS isn’t caused only by a virus. When hopelessness takes hold expressing physical love for another or expressing hate in the case of rape can become one’s only reason d’etre.
I was wondering if anyone else was a offended by the show. I didn’t find much researching the web except for two items: one from an outfit in the U.K. called SchNEWs...

Seeing (Red) SchNEWS 544 Wall of Shame
So Mandela-wannabe Bono-head of popular beat-combo U2 has teamed up with a yankee uber-captalist to launch “Product (RED)”.
Taking a leaf from the Book of Tony, they’ve rebranded the old socialist colour red into... new capitalist red. It is desi(RED), admi(RED) and you should be inspi(RED), they schmelch on their swanky web intro (www.joinred.com). Er, no, actually we are inc(RED)ulous, ange(RED) and think the scheme should be ignor(RED).
It’s a slick save-the-world-through-buying-more marketing campaign, designed to convince us that a spending spree will take care all the world’s ills. Promoted in conjunction with such philanthropists as GAP, Amercian Express and Converse, a tiny slice of the extra profits raised by the consumer frenzy will go to help alleviate AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria. Don’t worry about the role those companies play in causing and continuing these situations – just buy some (RED) stuff!
To take just one example, we are not so sure that “The new red MOTOSLVRtm” is in fact “the essence of desire”, or that Motorola are that “dedicated to doing the right thing” as they’ve helped destabilise Africa by plundering coltan for mobile phone production, sustained sweat-shop style labour forces and helped funnel the world’s wealth ever upwards into the same few greedy wallets of the global elite. Maybe we’re just bo(RED) of all the self-cent(RED) pop-star bullshit and think it’s time Bono reti(RED)...

And a second item from the Reverend Billy and his
Stop Shopping Monitor:
Traffic Jamming
Friday October 13, 2006
Nothing moves from the mayor or from Bono (telling us to buy more from a sweatshop company to help the victims of the sweatshop economy– that’s more NOT MOVING). These gestures take place in their symbolic world of gradualism.

Later in the afternoon on the very same Michigan Avenue about ¾ of a mile south of the GAP, across from the Hilton Hotel a bunch of us gathered to protest the war in Iraq and against President Bush who was speaking at the Hotel. Media trucks lined every spot along 8th Street. It was cold and so windy I was afraid one of the satellite antennas would fall down on me. I thought great. Maybe the protest will get as much attention as the Shopping (RED) campaign. All that media and not one reporter paid a bit of attention to us. I did see one freelancer with an unmarked camera though.
On the Web:
“Vulture Fund” Company Seeks $40 Million Payment from Zambia on $4 Million Debt:
Amy Goodman interviews BBC reporter Greg Palast on Democracy Now!
Seeing (Red) SchNEWS 544 Wall of Shame
Friday, September 29, 2006
Reverend Billy and his Stop Shopping Monitor
Traffic Jamming, Friday October 13, 2006
Church of Stop Shopping
Dying in silence posted by Anderson Cooper
Soon to (RED) all over from the elusive miss e
This short article just about says it all and should make most people very angry:
Lookout from The Nation posted April 14, 2005
(May 2, 2005 issue)
The Rise of Disaster Capitalism
by Naomi Klein

Live from Chicago: It’s Homeless Yanni….

2006-09-18T16:48:00.000-07:00

People don't believe me but Homeless Yanni does exist. Read The Walking Dude (or Guy)
Posted by Slippy Jenkins at 05:24:00 PM, Monday, April 11, 2005
Also, watch the Video. It's great!
editors note: Since this image and video were shot, Homeless Yanni has decided to go the handsome route like my Sweet Baboo, Anderson H. Cooper. His hair is now completely silver, gray or white--whatever you will... Mazel Tov Homeless Yanni ! No more black shoe polish coiffure.
On the Web: Google/Current TV reviews The Walking Dude

Mucca Pazza @ Millennium Park

2006-07-02T23:30:00.000-07:00

Despite the Hot & Muggy weather today Mucca Pazza performed for an adoring Millennium Park crowd without one sour note. Their music is so great! The diminutive and winsome Ronnie Kuller charmed everyone with her radiant smile and her golden accordion. Greg Hirte amazed everyone lookin’ handsome like Peter Sellers playin’ the violin. I'm not sure what to say about Jeff Thomas. He did have on a bicycle helmet with the name ‘Cooper’ across the front and a loud speaker on the top. Kind of suspicious if you ask me.
Except for the picture of Jeff Thomas, the photos above were taken by Annabelle Echo.

On the Web:
Mucca Pazza
More about Ronnie Kuller in the band First Coat

Unstrung Heros

2006-06-28T14:24:00.000-07:00

We all have our heroes. Artists and writers especially need heroes like others need drugs, food or money. Hero's inspire us to create. Without them we're hollow empty shells. We're just going through the motions. Anyway, my Sweet Baboo, Anderson H. Cooper had left town 2 weeks before and still hadn’t emailed me. Needless to say, I was feeling pretty low on that breezy Friday June 23rd when bon vivant, raconteur and all around man about town Vittorio J. Carli called to cheer me up.
“Would you like to go to a birthday party?” Sure I said. I even called my fellow blogger Deep H to come crash the party with us.
On the way west down Division Street Vito told me that the party was for Shaggy’s girlfriend Ellen. Ellen is an old friend of mine so it turned out I wouldn’t be crashing after all. Over the years I had lost touch with Ellen until we just this last winter ran into each other at Vito’s birthday party at the Skylark in Pilsen.
Ellen is a prolific and talented artist with a rather gloomy sense of humor. She showed me a model Shrimp boat she had made from tongue depressors she had appropriated from her mom who is a paramedic. It looked eerily similar to hurricane dislocated boat I appropriated from CNN for a cartoon of AC360º. Ellen made her boat without any diagram using only her imagination.
She shares her most unusual apartment with a remarkable young man, Matthew (Matt) Marsden. The outside of the building looks like an old church rectory. Inside it is a veritable museum. Every inch of interior is covered in meticulously ordered found objects. While we were hanging out in the bathroom, Deep H discovered a bottle of 100 year old liver pills carefully ensconced in a curio cabinet. Above are pictured some examples of what we catalogued.
Ellen tends to live inside her imagination. She doesn’t always notice everything around her. I told her that I especially loved the artificial leg that was employed as an end table in the living room. She didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. Her roommate Matt was the interior decorator and she was too overwhelmed to remember everything. Although, when the going gets tough her sense of humor takes over. I reached into her refrigerator to get a cold beer. Its interior felt warmer than the kitchen. I was struggling to close and seal the door. I told her, “I don’t want your food to spoil.” Her gloomy laughter kicked in. She quipped, “Too late for that…”

Anderson Cooper at Borders Bookstore

2006-06-20T16:35:00.000-07:00

Annabelle Echo meets her hero, Anderson Cooper at Borders Bookstore on Michigan Avenue in Chicago, June 9th, 2006.
Thank you to all of the staff at Borders who helped with this book signing event.
My preview of AC's book, Dispatches from the Edge : A Memoir of War, Disasters, and Survival and my experience of briefly meeting him is posted below.
Borders
830 N. Michigan Ave.
Chicago, IL 60611
Phone: 312.573.0564

Yes it was great to meet AC. He was sweet as he could be but he was so ethereal that I can't remember how his handshake felt I was so intent on concentrating on his reaction to the caricature I did of him which I gave him for his birthday. He said it was cute but the whole experience was a bit overwhelming. I'm not sure he meant it or was just being nice. Right before he signed my book I was like a deer in the headlights or a scared kid unsure about sitting on Santa's lap. I told him that I was worried about giving him the card I made because I was afraid his security would freak out. He furrowed his brow and said "No no it's fine..." I wonder if he feels conflicted about being a celebrity. It seems like it must be difficult to really investigate the news when one is the news. His good looks and unique personality often take precedence over the news going on all around him. He's often as or more compelling than the story he is reporting. I read his memoir, Dispatches from the Edge. For those who complain that AC is not exactly a journalist, he is in the sense that the writing is similar to a diary or a journal: the news and life are not facts but the unique way he is experiencing, interacting, being a part of or avoiding whatever is swirling around him.

Yesterday on the 360º Blog AC defended tonight’s broadcast of a 2 hour interview with Angelina Jolie.
I noticed that unlike many of his other posts, this one didn’t get an overwhelming amount of comments. Is CNN making a mistake by putting celebrity ahead of substance?
On June 2^nd I missed some of what I’m hoping will be covered in this interview. CNN’s reporter Jeff Koinange published this on the blog the day before his interview with Congolese president Joseph Kabila on military rapes aired.
Click here to read the transcript containing Jeff Koinange's report from the Democratic Republic of Congo.

My entire review of Dispatches from the Edge : A Memoir of War, Disasters, and Survival will be posted soon.

Happy Birthday Anderson Cooper !

2006-06-03T00:00:00.000-07:00

Live from Chicago: Happy Birthday Anderson Cooper !
Borders Book Store describes AC's new memoir of war disasters and survival,
Dispatches from the Edge:
An intrepid correspondent and host of his own news program on CNN, the dashing Anderson Cooper shakes off the cardboard image of the staid news anchor to give reporting a human face. He brings the same candor to his memoir of a year spent covering harrowing stories such as Southeast Asia's tsunami, the war in Iraq, and Hurricane Katrina. In the midst of such devastation, Cooper is gripped by his own painful memories of his father's death when he was a boy, and, not long afterward, his brother's suicide.
My review will be posted soon on this or one of my other blogs. Stay Tuned...
All of us Ladies in Chicago and at fatgirls rio baton, especially Annabelle Echo, want to wish AC the happiest of Birthdays and hope for many, many more. Please be careful out there and watch your back! Yes maybe we are just a bunch of crazy ladies but we love you none the less.
On This Blog: Updated Version of the Image Above

The True Legend of Allen Ross

2006-06-02T00:00:00.000-07:00

The True Legend of Allen Ross
This Story was originally published in the Newsletter of the Film & Video Department, Columbia College Chicago under another title.
I had just gotten my first technician job as a continuity and script supervisor on an independently produced film called Chains. We were working out of a dusty old hardware store on Archer Avenue. The script was so hackneyed and full of cliché that I told the director I thought he should film it as a spoof. He just glared at me and said nothing. Unless related to the smooth continuity of the film, I kept my opinions to myself after that first day of preproduction.
I was nervous and excited as I punched up the crew list on the computer. Near the top it listed Assistant Camera/ Allen Ross. Yikes. After that first run in with the director, I had hoped to be working with friendlier faces. Besides my two childhood friends, Jeff Reid and James Richardson, Allen was the only person on the list I was familiar with. I was less then pleased at the prospect of working with someone who had initially impressed me as difficult.
I remembered our first meeting several months back: a group of would-be and accomplished filmmakers had braved a winter snow storm to attend an independent filmmakers meeting in a loft across from an “All-Nite” Hot-Dog stand on Maxwell Street. The stand was world famous for its fatty Polish sausage sandwiches. Rich and poor alike would brave bitter cold, gale force winds and no napkins to stand on this corner at 4am eating sausages from which grease oozed, slathered and then froze to face hands and clothing. Those with fancy cars risked ruined upholstery. This was also the exact spot where my some of my immigrant family had settled around 1893. Now the neighborhood is quite upscale but at this time I had to step over garbage and dodge homeless men who rolled towards me in wheelchairs. Light from rusted fire filled barrels guided me from my car back to a gasoline alley where I found a mysterious door. An address had been crudely scrawled 1323 & ½ So. Halsted St. It matched the address that was written on the Chicago Filmmakers invite. To my surprise the door was unlocked.
The meeting was a bit lonely for me despite the large group. Most of the people were from the School of the Art Institute. Nobody talked to me or ate the lemon brownies I brought. Maybe they were all on a diet. I was relieved when the lights dimmed and the movies began. One film called the The Universal Citizen by Peter Thompson was quite remarkable. Allen’s film, Grandfather Trilogy was difficult and disturbing.
When the lights came back on, I stared at the handsome yet odd looking young man with the horned-rim glasses who had operated the projector and thought, “…what an interesting but scary person Allen Ross was…” Many years later, through an odd coincidence I ran into Peter Thompson. I asked him about Allen. I told him that I’d heard that he moved to Guthrie, Oklahoma. His eyes widen with surprise and concern. Hadn’t I seen that day’s Chicago Reader? Allen’s picture was on the front page. He had been missing for quite some time. I had no idea.
Filming on Chains began. Some of the neighborhoods where we filmed still hadn’t fully recovered from riots during the 1960’s. Often the locations were abandoned burned out factories and warehouses. It was exhilarating to work in places most never see. I mean how many people get to sit in the dirt under a train trestle or at 3am? Or how about eating a midnight snack in the back seat of junked car at a salvage yard? We worked all night long. It was grueling work at times but often a lot of fun. The crew slept during the day or at least I tried to. Stressed out and sleep deprived, I hallucinated the entire crew filming in my bedroom. I tossed and turned all day because just as I predicted I wasn’t getting along well at all with the difficult and enigmatic Allen Ross. Instead of sleeping I was compelled to devise intricate and potent insults to spring on him the next night.
As the days passed I grew comfortable with the routine and sleep returned. Filming was going well and I forgot my well planned insults. One morning, after the director called “Wrap!”, I hurriedly gathered up my notebooks, photos and pencils. As I rushed to catch the Western Avenue Bus, I noticed an unusual yet familiar car pulling out of the parking lot near the set. It was a strange murky color of that may have once been forest green. Time, the elements and rust had turned its paint so lackluster that its surface like a black hole, could only absorb light no longer reflect it. The crew filmed it early that morning. At least 20 actors dressed as gang-bangers rode on the roof, hood and trunk alternately shaking sticks in the air and banging them on the side of the car. Despite being rumpled with small dents and dings and covered in prop graffiti I was able to identify its model and year of production. It was a 1963 Chevrolet Bel Aire.™
I wasn’t entirely surprised when I saw who drove it home that morning. That wouldn’t be the only time Allen’s car was used as a prop. I began to notice how Allen and his car were very much alike. His clothing personality and appearance had the same rumpled murky quality.
Chains continued shooting indoors in a dusty factory that made worthless “toilet bowl fresheners” that turn the water bright poison blue. Do they still manufacture such things? Even more frightening than the blue dust that filled the air was the thought or feeling that started to overtake me: Maybe I didn’t despise Allen Ross? Maybe I LOVED him!
Sometimes I hitched terrifying rides home from him. He wasn’t a reckless or speedy driver but occasionally he would fall asleep when we stopped for a red light or the steering wheel would come off as we turned east onto Garfield Boulevard. Without stopping, showing no emotion or alarm, he would calmly reach under his seat to produce a large wrench and replace the wheel as we rode.
Frozen rain overwhelmed us one winter morning. After 12 hours of work, it meant and unwanted delay getting home. Luckily we were off the next night. The parking lot was an ice rink. Allen’s glasses were thickly glazed with ice as were his car’s windows. Scraping proved useless—the frozen rain was relentless. As soon as one window was cleaned, the previously cleaned one was ice again. Cautiously, Allen drove me home again. As the Chevy slid down 57th Street toward Hyde Park, occasionally whirling out of control I felt so lucky and happy I never wanted the ride to end.

On the Web:

Searching for Allen
When filmmaker disappears, friends and family chronicle mystery as documentary
By Dennis Murphy and Shane Bishop
Dateline NBC
Updated: 3:25 p.m. CT Feb 25, 2005

IN THE SUPREME COURT, STATE OF WYOMING...

Peter Thompson's Universal Hotel/Universal Citizen

June 1st 2006 Anderson Cooper 360º CNN

2006-06-01T23:59:00.000-07:00

June 1st 2006... Anderson Cooper 360º CNN... Chalmette, Louisana

The Silver & The Blue: Jon Langford

2006-02-28T17:20:00.000-08:00

The Silver & The Blue: Jon Langford;
Out on the town with Chicago's Glitterati

We all have our heroes. Artists and writers especially need heroes like others need drugs, food or money. Hero's inspire us to create. Without them we're hollow empty shells. We're just going through the motions. Well at least I was feeling that way on that ice covered January 21^st when bon vivant, raconteur and all around man about town Vittorio J. Carli called.
“Would you like to meet Jon Langford a 4PM? He's giving a tour of one of the MCA galleries. Later he'll perform the Executioner's Last Songs.” I had only a vague notion who Jon Langford was but I decided to take a chance. In the back of my mind I connected him to an art exhibit at Chicago's Cultural center about WLSradio's National Barn Dance. Am I wrong about this? Please comment either way. I could swear I saw Langford's paintings at this exhibit.
Before I left to meet Vito I checked the Web. There were two Jon Langford's with this same spelling. The 1^st one was involved with Christian Music. I was sure he wasn't who I was looking for. This 2^nd Jon Langford was obsessed with country music.
Except for Roger Miller, Johnny Cash and Chris Whitley, I didn't listen to or know much about country music. However, my brother-in-law who grew up in Nashville, named my nephew Carter for the famous Country Music family.
Besides being a musician, Jon is a prolific painter. Besides his painting of the aforementioned Carter family, many of his paintings are of Country Music stars. Langford would tell you they are the often exploited, long forgotten and sorely neglected by the mainstream country music industry.
I knew the streets were covered with ice. I didn't care. I put on cowboy boots and rancher's jacket. Even if the boots had no traction and the jacket wasn't quite warm enough it didn't matter. I wanted to please my host.
Jon in shirtsleeves, was dressed all in black. His hair was silver and his eyes bright blue. For a singer he was very soft spoken. I hovered close to him to hear his interpretation of each painting. I assumed he was English because he said he had attended college in Leeds but I found out from a fellow tourist that he was Welsh. Later during his performance he revealed that he was from the Welsh coal mining region. After the tour, Vito and I thanked Jon and we took a few snapshots. We wished him luck on that evening's performance.
Vito and I had a couple hours to kill before the show began so we slipped and skidded down Chicago Avenue to Dunkin Donuts from where Vito had several coupons he wanted to dispense with. I much prefer Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. Why can't they be on every other corner instead? (Please don't get me started on over saturation of unwanted franchises pushing out the more beloved less efficient old fashioned albeit not so healthy snack emporiums.)
We filled the time drinking crappy coffee, eating stale donuts and bagels and avoiding several of my "ex husbands" who invariably hang out. Vito's from Oak Lawn and I'm from Hyde Park yet we could reminiscence about a few of the same poets artists, filmmakers musicians and other assorted Chicago legends: Painter Jeff Reid grew up with me in Hyde Park and flitted in an out of town at a moments notice, poet JJ Jamison got himself arrested for 20 year old murder and filmmaker Allen Ross got himself murdered by his cult leader wife. I remember sobbing in a phone booth just after I failed to convince him not to leave Chicago with her. Later while exiting the concert, we would run into one of our favorite Chicago legends, Cynthia Plaster Caster.
7:30pm was quickly approaching. On our way back to the MCA we were stopped by a clean cut young man who said to Vito that he had a friendly face. We stopped to chat. It turned out that he and the group he was with were all sailors on shore leave. I didn't realize this at first glance because they looked too young and didn't appear to be in uniform except for their stylishly close haircuts and pea coats. Vito and the sailor exchanged some Italian and I bummed a square from him. We thanked him and as we walked away I hoped he wasn't headed for Iraq.
Soon we were meeting the pre show crowd. I filled my coffee cup with $6 worth of pinot noir. When I couldn't finish it before the start of the show, I sealed the lid and slipped the cup into my jacket to drink at intermission.
While I knew almost nothing about Lanford's music before this night I expected to hear great music and was not disappointed. The performance was a multi-media presentation more than a simple concert. The band was costumed in circa late 1800s somber western style. Sally Timms who did much of the sultry singing, admitted to me after the concert as I leaned into her for a photo opp, that she did indeed make her dress pictured above. She also sang with Jon in the punk band the Mekons. Despite the fact that she is from Leeds, some opine that with her sweet pure singing she possesses the best female country voice. Later that night when all of us met at the coincidentally named Delilah's Pub, I thanked her for sharing her gift that night.
The reason I call the name Delilah coincidental is because near the end of the performance, Langford introduced song Delilah as the National Anthem of Wales, and insisted that the audience stand out of respect. Reluctantly I did but I wasn't sure why at the time. I thought about What Langford stands for and made the connection. Delilah is about a murderous crime of passion, which undoubtedly ends with a jealous knife welding lover facing the gallows. Langford is a vocal activist and has dedicated three albums and their proceeds to the Illinois Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty. Besides this and as discussed previously, Langford is against another more subtle Death Penalty: the one that Corporate Country has imposed on music. The Blues may still be filled with heartache, death anger love and longing but country music has long ago dispensed with any emotion that doesn't remind one of a sickly sweet stale donut.
Other artists along with the aforementioned Ms. Timms contributed to that night's journey towards more merciful justice:
Barry Mills manipulated computer images of Langford's paintings that were projected behind the performers. For comic relief he kept showing clips of Langford as the Olde Salty Sea Biscuit from his Rudy & Gogo World Famous Cartoon Show. The radiant and winsome Jean Cook stole the show playing the violin and intermittingly reading with a deadpan yet disdainful voice unsympathetic letters written by a confounded, embarrassed and slightly annoyed daughter to her Mekons-worshiping mother, Sophie Bourbon. Gradually towards the end of the performance she resigns herself that her mother will never change.
Bassist Tony Maimone and drummer Dan Massey complete the evening's soundscape.
I had a great time but the best was yet to come. People milled around the museum lobby chatting and buying CD's until the staff encouraged everyone to leave. Since we were all invited to Delilah's to party with the band we quickly spun out on to the ice towards the Red Line Subway. Just before we left we were delighted to run into Cynthia Plaster Caster the legendary sculptress. I was secretly thrilled when she agreed to ride the subway with us to Diversey & Lincoln. If you don't already know this, Ms. Plaster Caster spent much of her young life making live penis molds of many of the famous rock musicians of the 1960s and beyond. WOW! I'm not kidding.
Ms. Plaster Caster may not be what you would expect. She is a beautiful whisper of a woman. Her blonde hair was almost white with a faint streak of pink. While waiting down in the depths of the subway I was giddy with awe when I asked her,“What is it like having pictures of yourself plastered all over the internet that you didn't even know existed?” I was joking of course but so flustered I either forgot or couldn’t hear her answer over the train rumble from the opposite track. But I’m sure she chuckled. Another thing that confused me is that I believe she then changed her socks just before our train pulled into the station. But you’d have to ask her about that. The train was much too noisy to talk but as soon as we were off the train, I recommenced my sketchy attempt at an interview. We talked about what we should drink. I said I liked beer but it made me too sluggish. She suggested I try tequila and she showed me a dainty little flask that held her reserve. Then, I decided to risk our possible future friendship to ask THE question. We were just a half a block from Delilah’s so I didn’t have much time. “Cynthia, what about Jon, was he one of your subjects?” She didn’t hesitate to answer that he was one of her very best subjects and quite blessed if you know what I mean… I think she was feeling pretty lucky about having him for a subject.
On the Web:
Jon Langford Recordings
Jon Langford Paintings
Jon Langford Radio: The Eclectic Company, Tuesdays at 10PM
The Museum of Contempory Art: Chicago
Musicians Against the Death Penalty:
The Executioner's Last Songs by Jeffrey St. Clair
Cynthia Plaster Caster: Art with Staying Power
Vittorio J. Carli interviews film director Deepa Mehta
Delilah’s
WLS Radio's National Barn Dance.
Singer/Songwriter Chris Whitley Dies

John Perkins: Economic Hit Man

2006-02-16T21:44:00.000-08:00

A Frickin' American a.k.a. Deep H meets author John Perkins at Transitions Book Place in Chicago, IL on Friday February 3rd, 2006. Mr. Perkins is the author of Confessions of an Economic Hit Man. A new edition is now out in paperback.

Friday February 3rd 2006 approximately 3:30pm: While in the midst of paying a cashier for some Cliff bars I feel my phone vibrate. I never fail to receive a call when my hands are completely occupied. It was my friend and fellow blogger Deep H a.k.a. A frickn.' American. I told him to hold on while I finished the transaction. I left the store a little flustered and put the phone to my ear. "Guess what," he said. John Perkins is going to speak tonight at Transitions..." I was confused. Why do I know that name...? I mumbled. "You know, the Economic Hitman," he reminded me. "Of course!" I exclaimed as I ran down Lake Street to the stationary store. "I've got to buy a little notebook!" I had read Mr. Perkins book, Confessions of an Economic Hitman. I had borrowed it from the library about a year before. But I had forgot many important details so I had just 3 days prior ordered the new paperback from Amazon.com. I felt bad that I couldn't have it autographed because it was still in transit. Maybe I could buy one of his earlier books at the store. I jumped on the bus to go home to get my camera. It's old but it still had some film in it from Thanksgiving weekend.
By the time a got to Transitions Bookplace it was packed. Some people were still milling around but most were already seated. I spotted Mr. Perkins right away. Tall slim and handsome, he looked at least 15 years younger than his 61 years.
There were no seats left so I had to sit on a table full of magic pebbles, crystals and other divination tools. Gambling Buddha was not too happy with me when I displaced his funky little fountain.
Below is summary and interpretation of what was said.
Perkins began with World War II. Since this time an empire of corporatocracy has been running things. But recently people around the world are getting wise to the corporations running and often ruining their lives. Because of the Internet and other improvements in technology, communication is simpler and ideas and information flow to more people. The world is getting smaller more intimate and interdependent. More and more the electorate know what is going on. They fear and distrust the USA. Perkins then asked what can we do about this situation and how can we make the world more stable for future generations?
But before we could begin to look to future we had to understand the past and present. He summarized his book and explained the job he did in order to write it.

Economic Hitman, a job description:
1. Identify a country's resources that corporations covet.
2. Arrange a huge bank loan to said country.

The loan money goes to US corporations to build huge infrastructure projects that serve the rich. The poor suffer from this because the country has to pay back the loans. All the profits and resources the country has go towards debt instead of education, health care and other necessities.
The Economic Hitman goes to the country's ruler and says that the US will help ease the pain if they will sell them their resources cheaply, for example. If the ruler doesn't agree, "Jackals" are sent in by the C.I.A. The ruler's life will then end or not be worth living. Yesterday, on Democracy Now! John said he was originally recruited by the National Security Agency.
Please read the Democracy Now! transcript linked below for a detailed summary of the book, Confessions of an Economic Hitman.

Other Books by John Perkins:
Shapeshifting : Techniques for Global and Personal Transformation
Psychonavigation: Techniques for Travel Beyond Time

On the Web:
Democracy Now! transcript:
Self-Described Economic Hit Man John Perkins:
“We Have Created the World’s First Truly Global Empire”
Wednesday, February 15th, 2006

FRONTLINE/World episode#103
Iraq, Truth and Lies in Baghdad & Colombia, The Pipeline War
Airdate: November 7, 2002

Transitions Bookplace
If you like to laugh at the news or if you love CNN's Anderson Cooper 360° check out my Echo Report...
Or for a sexier side to the news check out my Closet...

Buster J: Gaffer & Electrician Extraordinaire

2006-02-15T15:30:00.000-08:00

This pic from my good buddy, Gaffer, Electrician & Studio Mechanic,
James M. Richardson III

Here's what he had to say:
Hey everybody, Here is a pic of me at work operating a condor. The lights are 2 20K watt Mole Richardson Tungsten units mounted on an 80' boom, that's a whole lot of light. More pics to come. This is from the movie 'IL MARE' with Keanue Reevs and Sandra Bullock due out this spring. JMR III

JAMES M. RICHARDSON III
Gaffer/Studio Mechanic
Member: International Alliance of Theatrical and Stage Employees of the United States and Canada (I.A.T.S.E.) Local 476 Motion Picture Studio Mechanics, Chicago, Illinois.

C.D.L. Class A. License, T.X. Endorsement.

Below is a list of some of the films Mr. Richardson has worked on since 1988:

2002 Envy 2001 Ali 2000 Hardball, One Week
1999 The Watcher, Soul Survivors,The Visitors, High Fidelity, Return To Me, Light It Up.
1997 Blues Brothers 2000, U.S. Marshals, Mercury Rising, Kissing A Fool
1996 Misled, 1995 Book of Swords, Asphalt Man 1993 Tenacious Winds 1988 Chains.

On the Web:
The Lake House (2006) a.k.a. Il Mare (2006)

Check out my Closet for an upcoming review of the Iraqi film The Dreams of Sparrows

Technorati Link

2006-01-01T00:00:00.000-08:00

Technorati Profile

Visit the Echo Report to Check out the News...
Visit Annabelle Echo's Closet...

Lucky Umbrella

2005-12-12T11:04:00.000-08:00

THE WALKING DUDE by Slippy Jenkins

2005-04-11T17:24:00.000-07:00

The Walking Dude posted by Slippy Jenkins, 05:24:00 PM, Monday, April 11, 2005
It seems that there's this guy in downtown Chicago who's only purpose in life is to walk...and walk, and walk and walk and walk. To those of you who work or live in the Loop, I bet you already know who I'm talking about. Some call him The Walking Guy, others The Walking Dude. I've heard people call him Homeless Yanni, The Moustache Man, or That Weird Dude who Walks Everywhere.
I see this guy every week. He’s an enimga, a mystery, somebody you just want to stop for a moment and ask him what his story is...everyone I know wants to know The Walking Dude. LiquidGeneration’s very own Helga The Help was at a party this week and somebody informed him that there was a documentary circulating around the net about this guy. I found it, and sadly, it’s only a short video clip of the guy doing what he does...walking. But it’s very very funny.
Here’s the video.
And knowing there are probably many people like myself who are enthralled by this guy, I set out to find out what everybody on the net is saying about him. This is a compelation, of sorts, of what people are saying about him.
The Walking Man is ubiquitous these days.
As longtime readers remember, the Walking Man is a Chicago character who has been walking, just walking around (though there are other theories about what he’s up to) the city, for at least 15 years.
He’s got long black hair. A heavy black mustache. Looks like one of the guys from Three Dog Night. He often wears long coats, and pants that are a bit too short.
I’ve seen him a hundred times. Judging by my e-mails and calls, many of you have seen him on a regular basis as well over the years. One reader calls him “The Continental,” after a “Saturday Night Live” character. Another believes the Walking Man is a ghost. Others say there have to be at least two Walking Men -- but we’re all talking about the same guy. I’ve seen him talking to cabbies and pedestrians, but every time I try to talk to him and ask him what his deal is, he walks away.
The Walking Man is not the Talking Man.
Sometimes I’ll go six months or even a year without seeing the Walking Man, but he always resurfaces. He walks in the morning, he walks in the afternoon, he walks and walks. In the last month, I’ve seen him at least a half-dozen times. Earlier this week, he was on Wacker Drive between Wabash and State.
“What Is His Deal?” (Chicago Sun-times Columnist Richard Roeper - via)
“I showed that clip to my buddy here who lives in Chicago, he said the guy has been walking around Chi. since the mid-80’s.” - (via)
“One of my goals this summer is to talk to the infamous “Walking Dude” in Chicago. What would be some good opening lines? I’m sure others have tried talking to him. Like that Richard Roeper of the Chicago Sun-Times, and Walking Dude turns them off cuz he doesn’t want the attention.” - (via)
“The horror continues. I’m certain at some point I’m going to run out of Superfriends. We do have an accurate list compiled and kept tucked away in a desk drawer. I think it’s over 15 names deep. Personally I believe you can never have too many Superfriends.
Most of these chums have something very blunt within their name. Dude. Girl. Man. It comes to reason that Walking Guy would be no different. Though, he truly deserves a special name. Something that goes beyond a mere title. For Walking Guy is the one Superfriend recognized outside of the Optimus Window Community. Walking Guy is a favorite of dozens...possibly hundreds. For Walking Guy’s one crusade in life is to walk. And he walks. He walks very well.
You see Walking Guy walking around various parts of the River North area. Walking Guy is walking by the Wrigley Building. Walking Guy is walking past the Hancock Building. There goes Walking Guy by the river!
He does nothing but walk around.
I mean nothing.
And the fact that Walking Guy happens to be dressed in a variety of 70’s clothing makes him more appealing.
We’re talking pin-stripe suits. A brown coat jacket mixed with something resembling the puffy shirt from Seinfeld. Alligator shoes. Certain items that are made of felt and suede. Walking Guy has a wardrobe which can only be mirrored if you found a Salvation Army that was staffed by wealthy but tasteless hippies. Walking Guy has it going on.
His hair comes down to his shoulders with a slight wave along its length. There were two hairstyles in whatever decade Walking Guy lives in....the curly one and the other one. Walking Guy has the other one. Also, there’s a prominent mustache which matches the hair. The sort of mustache which would require a mustache comb. Walking Guy has a mustache comb. We have pictures of him using it.
Parties other than myself are actively involved in creating a documentary on Walking Guy...though in their part of the world (Lincoln Park) Walking Guy is called Walking Dude. We already had too many Dudes so I’m sticking with Walking Guy. Regardless, the Dudementary as it’s being called has considerable progress and hopefully one day will play at Sundance. Or at least somewhere on the Internet. The working title of this project is “The Walking Dude: What’s His Deal?” I’m somewhat afraid to find out. I think if we got to know Walking Guy to find out what his deal is, it’d probably be rather lame.” - (via)
“We got to Jo’s building and just as I was ready to leave, I saw a local celebrity coming up the sidewalk. He’s called The Walking Dude by some... Homeless Yanni by me and Jo. Regardless of what you call him - he’s awesome. He just walks around in his jacket and t-shirt and flowing mane of hair.” - (via)
editors note: This posting was originally on another web site. Slippy Jenkins, please comment if you would like it removed. Google/Current video news showcased or reviewed the “The Walking Dude” video.
The original Echo Chicago link can be found here.