I wrote this whole thing on my Blackberry. I’ve been so fucking lame about writing and JC is such a slave driver that I was able to fuck off for weeks. My fans nearly rioted.

I’m at my friends Mike and Megan’s house, fat from some wicked seitan and rice. My vegan soul satisfied, I’m buzzing to The New Lows‘ practice session. CD release show means extra practice. For me, it means a free meal and loss of hearing. Good times.

I’ve been struggling to be inspired to write. Nothing new really. It’s cyclical. My cycles are stretching for longer and longer periods. (Is writing better as a flowing but thought-through stream of conscious or should clever metaphors and witty reasoning, however contrived, define better writing? Guess which wave I’m riding. Seriously, that was not a clever metaphor.)

So here I am, Red Stripe and tree-powered, Jamaica fully represented in my white veins, trying to break out of a writing slump by trying something new. The keys are small, but I can still type fast. I’m dazed enough to not know yet if this sucks. I’m sure it can’t be worse than someone lifecasting.

Weird reference.

No doubt something is wrong. So little cursing. I think I’m too at ease. Even the Supreme Court ain’t lookin’ too bad these days. Sure, plenty’s fucked (yes!), but it’s not like the military kidnapped our president, tossed him in a helicopter and dropped him in Costa Rica. Honduras, represent!

So, I don’t know. Maybe I’ve lost my edge. I doubt it. It’s temporary. It better be. It will be. The band’s done practicing. My thumbs are tired of this. I’m glad to be back.

Who? If you already know, fuck you. You’re lucky to have already known about this badass. But until I saw a PBS documentary in early February, I’d never even heard of the cat.

And by cat, I mean Lion. This man could roar. I say “could” ’cause he’s dead. From cancer in 1984. Maybe it’s just me, maybe it’s just the sexy way PBS put their piece together about him, but damn I feel like I should have heard about this guy.

Okay, enough about what I’ve missed out on.

Petey Greene was an ex-con-cum-talk show legend in Washington DC and in the political circles that make the Capital different than any other city in the country. From a “radio” show over the PA at prison while serving 10 years for armed robbery, to the airwaves after his release to local DC TV and BET, Petey made a name for himself for his irreverence, arrogance, abrasiveness and genius; his TV show, Petey Greene’s Washington, earned him two Emmys and a slew of impressive guests including a little-known Donna Brazile during her early community-organizing days. (Take that, Sarah Palin!)

Still, I’d be scared of Petey if I ever ran into him. Not because he’d be a zombie (‘cause he’s dead), but in a more figurative sense. The dude was scary and confrontational. He also took the risk of saying whatever popped into his head.

But he turned that risk into positive preaching about racism and prison reform, including forming Efforts From Ex-Convicts (an organization devoted to helping former prisoners succeed in legitimate ways). He also spoke on poverty and often reminded his viewers/listeners how important money is to get and save, for one’s own sense of self-accomplishment and security. It’s a sentiment that resonates loudly in these economically-challenged times.

In 1978, this ex-con was invited by Jimmy Carter to the White House. The mother fucking White House! Here’s a former thug with a penchant for alcohol and loose lips going to the fucking White House. So what did he do? Petey stole a spoon and spoke proudly of it.

A few years later, a little known Howard Stern appeared on Petey’s show in black face. The two connected on the controversial subjects of sex and race and the interview was one of Stern’s first TV appearances.

“I have learned more from your show… I listen to your show and [when] I go on I use your material,” Stern told Petey during the appearance.

“They might not like us, but they don’t change the dial,” Petey told him.

Stern went on to later say that Petey was a “broadcasting genius.”

I mother fucking agree! And you will too. Learn more here.

Barack, you bonehead. Man, did you piss me off. I mean, I’ve been a vocal supporter, even to people who would rather dismiss you as a false idol or ‘maginary messiah. I’ve said, “Come on, give the guy a chance.”

Then you go and say something ignorant, immature and exactly what the legislative (and conservative) status quo would hope for.

For those who missed it, President Obama held a town hall meeting in late March where he answered questions submitted online via the White House website. The question posed to him that received the most votes was the one he was both most brief and flippant about.

The question, receiving over 3 million votes, asked, “With over 1 out of 30 Americans controlled by the penal system, why not legalize, control, and tax marijuana to change the failed war on drugs into a money making, money saving boost to the economy? Do we really need that many victimless criminals?” Variations of the same question pointed out an increase in jobs, as well.

Obama clearly felt he had to answer the question—not because it’s a damned important and necessary question to be asking, but merely because a bunch of weed-dazed web junkies forced him to address it (since it was far and away the most popular question).

“There was one question that was voted on that ranked fairly high and that was whether legalizing marijuana would improve the economy and job creation,” Obama said, smirky smile in full blaze. “And, uh, I don’t know what this says about the online audience, but, I just want, I don’t want people to think, this was a popular question. We want to make sure it’s answered. The answer is no, I don’t think that’s a good strategy to grow our economy, so, alright.”

And that was it. The audience chuckled and the President marched on.

WTF, Mr. President?! Seriously? That’s the best you can do? You are the most intelligent, crafty speaker our nation has maybe ever had at its helm and you crap that turd of a response out?! I’m pissed.

When Barack Obama speaks, I listen. I’m riveted. I find his charisma, character and competence wows me every time. But this response was Bush-esque, minus the gaffs and snickering.

I’m not expecting the President to legalize marijuana, but I am expecting a man of his great intelligence to recognize that this issue is important enough to not shove aside so casually. Was it not enough that it received three million votes online? Is it not enough that nearly a million people were arrested last year on marijuana charges, clogging up our judicial system and jails over a drug that is less dangerous than cigarettes (which our President smokes), alcohol and prescription medication?

Surely, the President would have preferred the question have never come up. But it did and in a big way. I only hope that the strong desire for an answer, and Obama’s sorry excuse for one, garner media attention that brings the debate over marijuana legalization back to the forefront.

While little can be said about why it should be legalized that hasn’t already been beaten home, media attention and, in turn, a change in public opinion (though February Zogby poll shows already 41 percent would support it if taxed and regulated) could force politicians to at least consider the subject—something that hasn’t been done on a national scale, maybe ever.

In the meantime, I’m not going to try to come to terms with my anger over President Obama’s answer and write it off this time. Instead, I’m going to count on the numerous legalization organizations, progressive and mainstream media and individuals (like you) to start being outspoken to force our legislators to address this important issue.

By – Craig Mazer

I just heard the Rev. Joseph Lowery drop rhymes to end his speech at the inauguration of President Barack Obama. (Holy shit, I can’t believe I just got to write that: President Barack Obama.) It was funny, clever and did anyone four years ago think for one fucking minute that a black man would be in the White House in 2009?

How fitting that a man who marched with Martin Luther King got to kick a couple verses as the first black president kicked our worst (white) president ever out of the White House.

(I had visions of Laura dragging George by his feet Tuesday morning, as over one million people gathered at the Mall, trying to drag him from the White House, kicking and screaming about forgetting his toys in the West Wing and never getting to attack Iran.)

Barack is so captivating. He’s so forceful. He’s hard to argue with. Those who disagree with him, I believe, do so as a kneejerk reaction to a black man having more power than anyone ever anticipated could be “allowed” in a country of such rich hate-filled history, despite such a short existence.

What don’t you like about this man? Is his blackness really so scary? Are stereotypes so overwhelming to one’s own sense of sensibility that you can put aside how absolutely fucking incredible this man is?

Maybe you’re an anti-abortion freak or a religious nut job. I don’t really care about you. I care about the people I know. The people I might even call friends. The people that surprised me when they failed to recognize how fucking awesome this man is, that he is more able than anyone could ask for, more wise than many of us can comprehend, more captivating than any single person I know of and more inclusive than I thought this country was capable of electing. Never mind the guy is fucking black!

I’m just riding the electric wave of Inauguration Day. I hope the wave brings prosperity and real change. It’s going to be a long, rough ride for Barack, but if any single American can handle the shocks, he’s the one.

So, in the spirit of this great day, I’ll offer up a small bit of change of my own, ignoring my tendencies to curse everything religious, by quoting the aforementioned reverend who spoke on this historical Tuesday:

“Lord, in the memory of all the saints who from their labors rest, and in the joy of a new beginning, we ask you to help us work for that day when black will not be asked to get in back, when brown can stick around, when yellow will be mellow, when the red man can get ahead, man, and when white will embrace what is right.”

– By Craig Mazer

I grew up getting presents and, until years later, never really thought much about how fucked up it is that gift expectations are instilled at such an early age. At some point I made a switch, a connection.

Now don’t get me wrong. I love the feeling of giving someone something that they really appreciate; there’s an amazing excitement that I find when you know someone is surprised and thrilled by something you did.

But how can that joy come from events based on and damn near requiring the giving (and expectation) of gifts?! I say, it can’t.

 – Image by Adbusters –

Sure, people will still love getting stuff and some people will still love giving (because there are some people that get excessive joy out of giving stuff to their loved ones, e.g., my mom). But for a large majority — and I’m making an assumption as  I don’t care to research whether this is, in fact, true or just a self-confident leap – shopping for gifts when “told” to (i.e. birthday, Mother’s Day, Christmas, Hanukkah, baby shower, engagement, wedding, anniversary, birth, Father’s Day, Grandparent’s Day, graduation, etc.) ends up being a real pain in the ass.

(Note: There are some events where maybe a gift is in order, such as graduation, a true accomplishment, but not just for saying “yes” to a question you weren’t expecting or didn’t really want to answer but did, and now relishing in the excitement of having registered at four different kitchenware stores. And not for birthdays.)

Maybe I’m just resentful, as a non-gift-giver and, mostly a non-receiver of gifts (my parents are unrelenting), but I find frustration in the expectation of receiving gifts, especially when the expectant receiver has provided a checklist of potential gifts for the resentful giver to choose from. Okay, maybe that’s too harsh. Maybe not.

My niece recently celebrated her first birthday and she was enveloped in a mudslide of colored plastic toys and clothes of all types with nary a clue what was happening. Sure, there was the “I’ll chew on this” and “I’ll give ‘em a smile for that” responses, but for the most part I could have dangled my keys in front of her and gotten the same result. I’m sure many of the givers were totally excited to see little Zoe’s reaction to the avalanche of made-in-China items, but it just seems like it’s a bad precedent to set with an impressionable child.

I was listening to NPR the other day and a famous chef now working in Orlando was talking about how his wife always makes sure to have an extra gift around the house during the Christmas season just in case someone shows up unexpectedly. Man, that got me steamed. It’s really the impetus for this column, though consumerism has always been something I’ve had strong feelings about.

So what’s my point? During these tough economic times, more than ever, I’ve been aware of the desperation for producers to sell and consumers to consume. It seems to me that if people learned to live with less and, instead, push concepts that foster the idea of giving to “those who need” and not just because, this country, at least, would be turning an evolutionary corner. Maybe it’s not the “get out and spend” attitude our most recent administration has pushed, but it seems to make a lot more sense – and it’ll help you save dollars, too.

  – Photo by J.C. –

Are you kidding me? There have been 109 attacks on boats off the Somali coast in 2008 as of November. Forty-two have actually been successfully hijacked (read article) and dozens more have occurred in other parts of the world.

Fucking pirates?! Not patch-wearing, workout-instructor pirates (yeah, that’s me) or weird octopus-face-having pirates (totally not me) or one-legged pirates of adventure fiction fame (arrgh!). These fucking pirates look more like terrorists (today’s pirates), but they are driven to commit a crime usually associated with 17^th and 18^th century figures like Black Bart and Captain Kidd.

So what gives? Is the lure of a patch, peg leg and a talking parrot driving thrill-seekers along the African coast to steer away from the land-locked kidnappings of yesteryear and embrace a good ol’ fashioned open-sea hijacking?

Here’s what I think. Bush did it. Not intentionally, maybe. But I’m trying to find something else to pin on that asshole. In some ways, I wanna thank him, ‘cause I can actually ask, “mother fucking pirates?!” And it seems more relevant than any other time in my life when I may have wanted to ask such a thing. Now I ask it and I think people care. Their ears perk up. “Pirates?” someone might question out loud as they pull their loved ones closer to them. “Pirates? Here?”

Ok, not yet. You don’t need to be worried about pirates fucking up your honeymoon cruise to the Virgin Islands or Puerto Rico or the Bahamas. As a matter of fact, there were only eight pirate attacks in the western hemisphere in all of 2008 (map ‘em all).

But damn, it seems to me that it’s only a matter of time. A lot of these pirates have been successful in hijacking ships loaded with oil and, even more frightening, kidnapping crews for ransoms (which are often paid).

So what’s stopping Joe Blow carjacker from taking things to a new level? Why knock off the local Kwik-E Mart when you can hijack a cruise ship full of Americans off the coast of Florida? Seems like a lot more money to be made there than from the pocket change in a cash register.

Okay, maybe I’m just speculating haphazardly. I am. Maybe there’s no threat ‘cause we’re perfectly safe. Maybe. And maybe this has nothing to do with George Bush redirecting military resources to a bullshit war in Iraq while the area just south of the Middle East has become a hotbed for pirating. And certainly, there’s no reason to fear local criminals will embrace such dated criminal tactics even during a recession that is costing Americans their jobs at a frightening rate. Right?