We’ve been getting a lot of irate emails and-god help us-tweets at the CH3 communications center about our recent Twitter blog. Jesus, you tech nerds are a prissy bunch, aren’t ya?
Alright already, let’s not get our panties in a bunch—we’re not giving up on this trend0 technology just yet.
Actually,after reading through a few of these Tweets, it occurred to me that they greatly resemble that hoary old Junior High chestnut, the Haiku!
We know, we know—you’ve always associated CH3 with being champions of the Iambic Pentameter, and oh brother–don’t get Anthony and Alf started on the limitations of the Sonnet as a metaphysical vehicle!! Not unless you want a couple of drunk Latino hotheads schoolin ya on TS eliot!!
But this Twitter business—it’s almost hypnotic with the brief missives, eh? For example, check this recent update we posted:
Threw up in my mouth onstage @hob thursday. Could’ve pulled it off if I didn’t spit it out and then tell the audience…learn from this!
Nice eh? Conveys the sense of place and action— clean and brief. That’s really what you people want to read on your Iphones, ain’t it? I mean, really–what I’m eating, how I’m feeling…. It all boils down to the bodily function.
I can just see this post happening in the near future:
I just Sharted!
And then –cryptically, tragically—- only this:
Hey, if that’s what you folks really want popping up on the screen during your son’s graduation, fine by me…. I can do this nonsense all day, people!
So there you are, a nice romantic dinner in that new Persian place you’ve both been dying to try. And yeah, it’s been a crazy week for the both of you- it seems like you see less of each other now than before she moved in…crazy, huh?
A peppery zinfadel breathes patiently on the table. The lavash was divine, the khoresht is on its way, and you are feeling aligned with this wonderful world.
So you take her hands in yours, look into those deep green eyes. They shine tonight, and it reminds you of the phosphorus glow of the waves, that night you first kissed her on the beach at midnight. Those eyes- the twin moons orbiting your wounded planet- they are the only things keeping you from flying off into the void.
This is the time to talk about a future, a real commitment, and so you finally say the words—Whoa—Wha?! The blackberry is buzzing between you , and hello–here’s a tweet from Alf:
The dog ate his fill of catshit, just barfed on the carpet. lol!
What is it about unpowered flight that fascinates us? Is it the silent journey into the heavens, guided only by the gentle breath of God?
Nah. Merely the primal fascination of man seeing what he cannot do, but very much wants to. Ever see how the orangutans at the San Diego Zoo all start masturbating frenetically whenever a butterfly floats by?
You think floating under a balloon is a legitimate form of transportation? Really?
Then why is it every billionaire who attempts a balloon journey, with every technology at his fingertips, ends up hanging off an electrical transfomer 10 miles from the launch pad?! Listen, I’d love to walk to Hawaii some time, that sounds like a real hoot.
Shall I see if Richard Branson wants to come along? Alert the Press?
But maybe you’ve heard of a man named Larry Walters, somewhat of a personal hero around here at the CH3 base camp. Larry was a truckdriver who took flight on July 2, 1982 in a homemade aircraft. Dubbed Inspiration I, the “flying machine” consisted of an ordinary patio chair with 45 helium-filled weather balloons attached to it. Walters rose to an altitude of 16,000 feet (4,900 m) and floated from his point of origin in San Pedro, California into controlled airspace near Long Beach Airport.
That’s right–you’ve heard of him now, right? The lawnchair guy!
Larry took his little flight and that was about it. But his trip captured the dreams of millions and actually inspired a few imitators. Notably, Brazillian Priest Adelir Antonio de Carli who disappeared while re-creating the legendary flight of Larry Walters. Fater de Carli was well prepared and had flotation, GPS and parachute. Body parts found offshore July 4 2008.
These jokers totally missed the point of Larry’s little jaunt. It had nothing to do with daring or the insatiable hunger for adventure. This was a stunt born of boredom, and I’d bet my goddamn last dollar a little alcohol was involved…..
But here’s the real reason Larry Walters is a true American hero: After violating federal airspace, causing an electrical blackout on landing, and being immediately arrested by the Long Beach Police, a reporter asked him the reason for the flight. “Because a man can’t just sit around,” was his reply.
Wha? Because a man can’t just sit around?! Goddamn right brother! That’s gonna be my new motto too! Next time the cops roll around at 3am and ask me why the hell I’m taking a dump on the front steps of the high school, well, ya know what I’m gonna tell ’em!
A man can’t just sit around–duh!
He committed suicide at the age of 44 by shooting himself in the heart in Angeles National Forest in 1993
Larry Walters by CH3 Larry Walters was a man who saw his dream take flight
Have you never been afraid yet told you had to fight?
We all keep dangerous thoughts contained like gasoline
Larry took his bottle of hopes and opened it with his teeth
Take me with you when you fly away from here
Show me the truths that lie just beyond my fears
Larry Walters, how does it feel
When your fantasy becomes real
Larry Walters, is my earth still round?
Larry Walters, don’t you ever come down
I used to sit up on the roof though terrified of heights
I grew to love my neighbor’s dog who growled all through my nights
If only I could fly away and finally touch the truth
I’d shiver in the stratosphere, I’d let go my balloons
I’ve seen your light but I can’t break free of this 9 to 5
Hold the time, it’s terra firma nine to life
So our man Alf sends a frenzied email, seems he’s intoTweeting now! Says it’s the greatest thing ever, especially for a musician.
Oh Alfie! Say it ain’t so! I know you’re a drummer and all, but don’t you know that meth shit will kill you? Sure, I know it’s fun to take apart VCRs, we all do that…but don’t you remember how the last CH3 drummer ended up?
Heh. No, you silly fuckin rabbit says Alfredo–not Tweaking,Tweeting–as in Twitter, ya dig?
How’s that? Come again? Twitter? What means this? Explain yerself!
Twitter –have you heard of it? Oh, I guess all the kids are all over this stuff. So kill us, we’re a little behind the times over here at the CH3 headquarters.
Hell, we were still making flyers at kinko’s up until last February, but my nephew set us up with a myspace page. He’s got some secret deal going on I guess, so it only costs us 105 bucks a month….seems to be workin pretty good!
OK, let me get this straight..we’re supposed to hover over our cell phones to see what Oprah or Shaq are doing every goddamn fifteen minutes? Listen, I don’t really care what Shaq had for breakfast or what he thinks of Dwight Howard these days. Now, if he would report on the approximate girth and weight of the dump he took this morning, now that would hold my interest….
Assuming we don’t need to find out where to wait in line for Kimchi tacos, just what purpose does this newfangled thang have, hmm? It seems to me we really don’t need to hear what celebrities are doing, we get enough of that anyway. And normal people? Bleh. Yeh, I know you’re standing in line at goddamn Target, sister…that’s me right behind you, holding the 40 pound sack of Nutro Senior Dog Formula while you’re tapping away on your Blackberry!
If you’d really want compelling updates, why not just give Twitter accounts to Crackwhores? Then you’d be getting some good reading….
I’ll be on Beach and Katella after 10 by the green dumpster. The sore is closed now too.
Precious think she the best out here. Wash yo ass skank!
But we gotta roll with these changes, especially with a whole Summer’s worth of roadwork comin up. Hell it might be fun, tap out a few notes while we’re nursing Budvars on the Vlatava river. Maybe a running commentary, a little travelogue in small chapters….I know 140 words will be a tough limit, but I like a challenge. We’ll just have to switch from Fitzgerald mode into Hemingway esque, is that it?
What the fuck? One Hundred and Forty Characters?!! Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.
WICHITA, Kan. – Dr. George Tiller, one of the nation’s few providers of late-term abortions despite decades of protests and attacks, was shot and killed by an anti-abotion activist Sunday in a church where he was serving as an usher.
Hey Now! You can’t make this kind of comedy gold up, people! Let’s read that again: An anti-abortion activist decides to take out ol Doc Tiller while he was at Church! (or Tiller the baby Killer, as Bill O’Reily liked to call him—what what? Tillah the Killah? O’Reily’s like fuckin’ Ludacris over there at Fox, eh? I gotsta tune in more often!)
Heh. These guys are so Pro Life they decide to kill someone? That’s like roaming a dark park in Bristol at 4 am and buying all the crack a Jamaican dealer has on him, just so you can “keep it off the street, for the kids’ sake”!
Now, far be it for your ol pals at CH3 to take any political sides, though if you are anti-abortion fanatic intent on harming or shaming others with a different opinion yer a fuckin moron.
We actually visited this topic quite a while ago, in a snappy little track we call A Time to Kill. Let’s take a listen:
A Time to Kill
I got Time on my hands
That Time is red I understand
I’ve lost the chance to hesitate
I deal cards like awful fate
All the voices tend to get so loud
The riotous voices of a murderous crowd
To turn away, that would be my sin
I’l never give up, they’ll never win
The endless war that I’ve begun
Spreads like a black spot on a lung
I act alone, that’s understood
I speak for all that’s true and good
To stand for life means there’ll be no Choice
Sometimes you kill to extinguish a voice
To turn away, that would be my sin
I’l never surrender, they’ll never win
The end of my innocence, Lies loaded on the floor
So many children die, I never noticed that before
Come back to me, my innocence, I will not turn away
Salvation’s never cheap, I will not fade away
I act upon God’s will
I aim for endless thrill
This is my time to kill….
So what ya wanna do when dealing with these type of heavy black lyrics is to throw ’em right on top of a peppy Foo-Fighters track and there ya go! Social commentary without the gritty aftertaste!! Enjoy!