Tag Archives: Gung-Ho

Stuff and … things.

Lots to say, nothing to think. Not usually a great combination … but it’s a positive boon when it comes to podcasting.

Enemy ears are listening
Hey... who knew?

So, how are you then? Well, I trust. Hope the foot trouble is better. That’s right, friends, we’re turning over a new leaf here at the abandoned Cheney Hammer Mill. From now on, Big Green is going to be all about people. Good old retail public relations. Connecting with the folks – that’s us, Jack. (See? We even call you by your first name, providing your first name is “Jack”.) I’ve found that holing ourselves up in our basement studio mixing songs and swearing at each other is no way to run a rodeo, let alone a pop music combo. Neither is failing to settle our account with the local feed store, or dropping a box of tacks in the middle of main street. Verily I say unto you – none of these things redounds to the benefit of our public image.

Anywho, we’re tuning over a new leaf … a Big, Green leaf. We’re extending the hand of friendship to all and sundry. (Whoops … I’m sorry, that’s Awl and Sundree, the law firm that’s handling our squatter’s rights claim, pro bono, of course.) Part of that whole thing I’m yakking about is our podcast, THIS IS BIG GREEN, now in it’s second big year. Every month, a fresh new assault on the ears and sensibilities. That’s how we connect with John Q. Public and Nancy K. Everybody, not to mention Rover T. Dog and Sprinkles A. Cat. Nobody is left out, nobody!

Fact is, that’s kind of a problem, too, I’m told. Why is that? Well, I’m gonna tell you. Our anti-terrorism adviser and former lean-to neighbor Gung-Ho has warned that not only “friendlies” are listening to our podcast each month. No, it’s not just mom and pop and the kids, and maybe grandpa out there in the kitchen, brewing the crystal meth. Because of our connected world, Gung-Ho tells us, America’s enemies may be listening as well. They may be writing down everything we say and using it as a weapon against us. Chilling thoughts indeed.

As we record this month’s podcast this week, we will remain vigilant, per Gung-Ho’s timely admonition. I should hate to think that we might inadvertently lend assistance to the “Axis of Evil.”

Sound off.

Sometimes the magic works, sometimes it doesn’t. What can I tell you? You’ve got to roll with the … hey…. put the gun down. Put it DOWN!

Oh, hi. No worries, my friends, no worries. Marvin (my personal robot assistant) may have a trigger finger, but it’s not supple enough to squeeze off anything like an accurate shot. Sometimes he gets worked up enough to wave that old revolver our militant former neighbor Gung-Ho left lying around the mill so many years back. (He dropped it in mid-stride during some imagined emergency, if I recall correctly. It was his side-arm, and he was firing his principal weapon randomly at the time. Those were the days!) I know, I know… I shouldn’t lecture my mechanical companion, but sometimes it’s hard to resist. The fucker gets so disappointed sometimes, you’d think he was, well… human, or something capable of even greater whiny-ness. I guess attendance at his opening night performance of the Wizard of Oz (in three acts) was less than expected. In fact, I think the only people there were some of the school’s nighttime janitorial staff and some of our local downtowners who were trying to get in out of the cold. (Poor tin man.)

Can’t believe this is his first taste of rejection! What a sheltered life these automatons lead. Even root vegetables like the man-sized tuber have experienced the dusty flavor of defeat. (Or perhaps that is just dirt from the garden from which he was plucked.) Yes, his fortunes have turned since his salad days, if you will, but tubey’s life has been far from a bed of roses prior his election to the local municipal mayoralty. (We bear some responsibility for that, of course. Yet another mea culpa. I’m thinking of changing our band’s name to mea culpa. What do you think? Hmmmmm?) And we human members of the Big Green complement have taken a few lumps over the years. Hell, just look at the two Lincolns. Are you looking? Well, if you are, then you know… they look like HELL. Just like it, I tell you! But I digress…

Of course, Marvin is a machine. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But let us face it, his problems should not be thought of as permanent. Why, with the right kind of attention and the requisite skills, his disappointment may be programmed away and replaced with joy. A talented machinist could give him an extra arm with the power to throw a javelin at escape velocity so that it sails through deep space and pierces the moon (or “the” Mars). His inventor Mitch Macaphee could power him down and set him on a nuclear timer of some kind so that he would restart in 1,000 or even 10,000 years – he would know the future! (Lord knows, he has already seen the past. As have we all….. right?) The sad fact is, though, that Mitch could have saved him even this childish disappointment he has encountered of late. He could have given Marvin a new set of pipes, or more terpsichorean robot legs, so that his Wizard of Oz (in three acts) performance would have brought the house down and dragged audiences in from distant cities and even the microscopic hillside hamlets that dot our countryside.

Well, is that the time? Got to get back to my Mexican stand-off. All right, Marvin…. you’ve had your fun. Step away from the revolver.