Tonight's piece of archival J-Ro clippings is called "James Taylor Is The Jesus Of White Liberals." The title came from an ex-girlfriend, who was musing about how much James Taylor symbolizes many of the problems casued by the Baby Boomer generation, and their subsequent cannibalization of society, molding it in their own image. This is intended to one day be a spoken-word piece, recited in a Scottish Burr just thick enough to sound cool, but not too strong as to make the message unclear. I have yet to record the music for it, because I have yet to find a Scotsman to read it for me. Maybe you know one? Maybe you are one? Drop me a line... thecrazypablo@aol.com Now on with the show:

james taylor is the jesus of white liberals, do you know what i mean? he’s made it through things like divorce, popularity, drug addiction and getting his hair ripped out of his head while riding a motorcycle, so now he looks like a skeleton skarekrow with a guitar, singing the same 60’s and 70’s songs about fighting drug addiction, getting married, getting divorced, being bald because of losing your hair to a motorcycle, colonizing “third world” nations with white, “liberal” do-gooders who don’t understand that by “helping” these people, they are making them dependent on a foreign way of life, much as the missionaries from europe did to many “uncivilized” people all over the globe in the majority of the last millenium. the same kind of thing that damaged entire family structures in the 70’s & 80’s, by telling african women to use carnation powdered milk instead of breast milk, only they needed water to instantly “create” the milk, and the water was tainted and the babies all got sick and died. I await his official coronation and subsequent crucifixion.

It's been too many days without something new. So, here's something that is most likely new to you, even though I wrote it in February and July of 2002. The second part is a work-in-progress... a snapshot of a conversation that never happened to me, but darn well could have. I don't know where it came from. Enjoy.
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Does a series of events related in detail describe and give form to the individual? Or just paint a picture of a subject without character surrounded by character the likes of which he or she will never possess?

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“I’m sorry, I just can’t deal with you anymore. This has to stop. We can’t keep living this...this...lie!”
“It’s about the lint in my navel, isn’t it? I can clean it, I swear! Just don’t go!”
“What the hell are you talking about? Is something living in your bellybutton? Honestly, i don’t care if that’s true or not...I just can’t live with YOU anymore. Do you understand me? Of course you don’t. If you understood me, we wouldn’t have to have this conversation, now would we?”
“I can change. What do you want me to do? I’ll do it. For you. Just give me a chance to prove it.”
“That’s just the point, though. You shouldn’t have to change to suit my tastes, to satisfy my whims. Be your own person for once. Stand up for yourself. You’re not afraid to be by yourself are you? Be a man, not some cowardly lion. If you could think about yourself a little more, you might be able to satisfy someone else as well.”
“I’m not afraid to be myself, I just don’t particularly care for it all that much. If I wanted to be alone, I would live in the desert and never bathe, and subsist solely on Funyons and Mountain Dew.”
“Are you talking about being alone, or dying before you hit 40? I just can’t communicate with you anymore. It’s like you’re speaking a different language.”