overheard pearls from granny smith (5)

Thanks to the records of Rev. Dr. R.D.C.

1. That fool is blind in one eye and can’t see out the other.

2. Give me my book, I’ve got the back door trots.

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same as the old boss: rock n roll & the corporate revolution

guitar_dave

 

 

Midway through their set at last summer’s Celebrate Brooklyn show, Wilco frontman Jeff Tweedy commented to the crowd that we smelled like bacon. I laughed, thinking he was referring to security, typical of the Celebrate Brooklyn festival. But his follow-up comment about the wafting smell revealed that he literally meant bacon: the smell of which enveloped the park, being emitted from the concession stands on either side of the stage.

A ticket to the show cost $45. The Bowery Presents security guards searched my bag and patted my pockets. Walking past many groups of security and police officers and onto the grounds itself, we were greeted by the many concessions for French fries, burgers, beers, sodas, snacks, etc. Advertisements for Google Plus and Vitamin Water.

The food line itself was wonderfully efficient. How the young people taking orders, making orders and handing out orders were able to keep that massive line moving and serviced seemed more work than organizing the whole show could have been. I wondered what hungry percentage of the show’s proceeds they would be making.

The band played, and the crowd talked. And talked and talked and talked. Few people seemed interested in actually listening to the music. A constant stream of new food and beverage purchases held aloft passed through every chorus or so.  Because nothing says rock and roll like French fries and expensive beer and talking while the band plays at a corporate event that you got searched just to get into.

Each distraction, whether it’s a burger or a phone or a conversation, distracts not only the one eating or talking but those around the eater or talker. Your distraction distracts us all. When you are distracted from the thing we are all here to partake in, it removes your commitment to and love for the thing. And we need yours, the thing needs yours. Don’t let it be taken away, from you or us.

Part of the corporate revolution has been to convince us that we should not care about where our money goes to, or where our products come from. Don’t worry about what slave made your shoes, just concern yourself with their look and price and what this will communicate about you. Don’t worry about the wait-staff and kitchen that makes and serves your food, just worry that the restaurant has a ‘cool vibe’ or is ‘cute’ and the food is delicious and affordable.

Don’t worry about what rights-violating searches you have to go through; what advertisements you’ll be forced to endure; what incredible profits will be made on concessions – and how all of those profits will be divied up (a lot to the owners, a little to the workers). Just concern yourself with the band you want to go see, and the awesome time you’ll have seeing them, and singing along. Maybe they’ll do a cover. “Meet the [munch, slurp, munch] new boss [munch munch, swallow] / Same as [burp] the old boss.”

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from the archives

poop_bags

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crowning their good with brother/sister-hood (3)

Crown_King_Shit

Currently Most Awe-Inspiring American Martyrs

– Leah-Lynne Plante: Sisterhood!

– John Kiriakou: You’re not going to get away with NOT torturing anyone around here, Sir!

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occupy our stories (2)

OOS_1

 

OOS_2

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from the eazyztop (7)

clerkin

My consciousness prattles, steadily, a mass of the unrefined detritus it is my duty to sort through and from which I attempt to select and remember what seems to illuminate or at least humor. After scrawling my careless pen over pilfered paper throughout the shift I will bear the sheets home and type them up, refining again what was gleaned from my impressions. I like to keep my papers beneath the enormous and heavy Lottery machine, so that if a fellow employee happens in or I am distracted by work and the 6:00am employee that relieves my shift arrives of a sudden my thoughts are well hidden beneath the machine. I have even forgotten – only once! – to pocket the sheets before my departure at 7:00am and had to exit 81N to hurry south and, avoiding any discussion, retrieved them to Randy’s startled gaze.

I only wish to be more harmonious and enchanting on these pages – grappled from eight hours of convenience store fluorescent splendor – than I can offer in actual dialogue, with whoever you are, whenever we meet. O, Moon, won’t you please shine down on me?

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Think Different – But Not Persian!

Remember that time an Apple employee in the U.S. state of Georgia refused to sell a computer to a woman he had heard speaking Farsi because ‘our countries have bad relations’?

Well me and the 29 other people who signed the change.org petition do!

But then Reuters produced a confusing story: ‘Despite sanctions, Apple gear booms in Iran.’ Aside from the obviously unintended but still kind of vulgar and insensitive pun, the headline illustrates the deep divide between the picture of Iran and Iranian people as vastly different from us and worthy of sanctions and bombing, and the reality that Iranians are human beings like us who need to piss everyone off with their annoying thoughts on the Internet while looking down on non-Apple users.

Iran and the US, after all, have many things in common: they hated the Shah because he was a brutal dictator supported by the US, and we hated the Shah when he failed at being a brutal dictator.   They have lots of oil, we love oil. (Fancy that!) They suppress freedom of speech and political activities, we are awesome at that, too!

Besides, the Europeans who took over America were originally from the mountains of northern Iran before they were from the halcyon forests of Germany, as the story goes, so it would make sense that we have the same taste in consumer products!

Iran, really, we have so much in common. We’re just burning for you, like an American, or Persian needing an iproduct.

 

 

 

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you might be a communist if (1)

– You held a door open for another person and didn’t charge them for it.
– You passed the salt, as requested. And the mustard. Without charging! What’s next, Bolshy?

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circle k branded

From: Handout

To: Customer Service 

Subject: Circle K

 

Why is this store called CIRCLE K? Why not O K? Or just K? Where did CIRCLE come from? Thanks.

 

Handout

From: N——-, Mark 

To: Handout 

Subject: answer to your specific question.

 

Hi Handout,

 

Circle K originated with the purchase of three convenience stores call “Kay’s Food Stores” in the early 1950s…

The buyer (Fred Hervey) changed the name to “Circle K”…. and the name has lived on..

 

Thanks!

 

Mark N——

Director of Human Resources and Training

From: Handout

To: N——, Mark 

 

Hi Mark,

Thanks so much for your reply. I’m just wondering WHY he chose CIRCLE. Why not SQUARE or RECTANGLE or any other shape? or even TRIPLE K or POWERFUL K? Were the stores located in a geographical circle in relation to each other? Did Mr. Hervey already have the logo and so took the name literally from the logo? Thanks for satisfying our curiosity.

 

Handout

From: N——, Mark 

To: Handout

Handout…. As we understand it….

 

The three original stores were located in El Paso, Texas and the branding Iron used on cows was part of how it originated or the idea of Circle K was derived. In the Original Circle K’s if you would envision a Branding Iron Circle and the K in the center. The original look was truly a Red Circle around a K and the new version that has the red square around the white Circle and the letter K evolved in the early nineties.

 

Mark

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favorite union (1)

Post_Office_logo

 

 

American Postal Workers Union: Keep those postcards from my dentist coming in – and issues of Handouts going out! Put your hand out and take this Handout! On Saturdays too! And in rural places, like George Jefferson Adams McKinley intended!

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