Wednesday, September 30, 2015


We read the word ‘deadlines’ as ‘deadliness’ since we’ve been the victims of procrastination. And what is ‘procrastination’ but a yearning to escape? Hopefully, popular music will address this phenomenon by deploying lyrics that rhyme with yearn, yearning, yearned.  

The earth does not procrastinate. Its crust, its mantle, its tectonic geometry drifts, sometimes in countermelody, to the planet’s general ‘spin’. So, too, shall Regional Dwellers drift in countermelody or ‘dischord’ to the deadlines or deadliness.

Regional Dwellers are a peace-loving peoples, who don’t favor traditional Mono-Deity as they worship, but instead, geo-seismic activity. If worship means a ‘devotion’ that is intended to subdue the rogue element, the object of the worship.

To be sure, one worships the volcano because one fears the volcano. Should the volcano erupt anyway (see ‘deadlines’ above) then Regional Dwellers typically implore the ocean—in prayer—to arrive, to extinguish the volcano. (By gale.)

Of course, this makes hella more sense than Mono-Deity, but in fact, oftentimes, the ocean arrives and misses the volcano entirely. Then you’ve got—well, not so much fire and ice—yet—fire and brine. What to worship then? The mongoose?

No, I was not discussing the pornography inherent in our political terminologies, but since you insist, I shall digress: ‘Filibuster’: From Latin firmus (strong) + libido (caprice) + ustilo (scorch) + tergum (rear). There. Are you happy, Senator?

I have searched for a philosophical system that can unify all the disparate Elements inherent in our world. I read about a Soup-“S’up!”-Swiffer Collider, where broths, bro-greetings, and alt-cleanliness were being pinged off one another at atomic rates of speed. It’s one available tack.

In the absence of systems, Inebriation looms. One worships incrementally, by whiz or by dram. Regional Dwellers turn to Inebriation whether or not the volcano and ocean respond. There’s a point, I suppose, to medicating happiness. All things border other things, after all. Inoculate yourself at all times!

I got stuck in the elevator the other day when a Billy Idol song fizzled onto the Muzak system. A woman in the elevator explained that she felt 50 percent incomplete as a person, and she began to dance—some flips and some hips. She was Dancing with (Half of) Herself, Oh Oh Oh!



Commuter in Argyle Socks. . . . as himself
The Sun. . . . as itself

Dan Gutstein

Running Time:
30 seconds

Advance Praise:
"Socks it to us!" --American Podiatry Lobby 
"Are guile!" --Oxford English Dictionary
"The brightest moment belonged to the sun!" --NASA

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Wednesday, September 16, 2015


—I’ve got that on my radar.
—Me, too.
—Do other people have it on their radars?
—Everyone has this on his or her radar.

—Remember the days of no radar?
—What was there, if there was no radar?

—Heh heh heh.
—Heh heh heh.
—When my girlfriend moved in, she kept her radar.
—More women are keeping their radars these days.

—Do you see blips?
—Only when I stand up too quickly.
—Sometimes when I’m alone, I hear applause.
—Maybe you’ve got The Clap.

—Okay, I’ve got that on my radar.
—Do you have it on your sonar?
—Should I have it on my sonar?
—The sea ice, after all, is melting. . . .

—Do you have that on your deep space probe?
—I’m not sure I care for that phrase.

—Does man drum in the woods?
—Do you drum in the woods?
—I have no drum. There are no woods.
—Then, you must throw percussion to the wind!



Parker in Red Hat as. . . . Parker in Red Hat.
Passers by as. . . . Passers By.

At the very outset, Parker discovers heaps of tickets. Rails against the cruelty of it all. Resigns himself to the sad regularity of progress. Closes himself off from the world inside his car. All the while Lee Morgan interprets this moment through the bad brass of his phenomenal trumpet + Band. Oh yeah. 

Dan Gutstein

Running Time:

Lee Morgan, excerpt from song, “Morgan The Pirate”, from album Search For The New Land (Blue Note, 1964), Lee Morgan (tp), Wayne Shorter (ts), Grant Green (g), Herbie Hancock (p), Reginald Workman (b), and Billy Higgins (d).

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Wednesday, September 9, 2015


Voters outside Virginia—as well as many inside the Commonwealth—may not recall very much about former Senator Jim Webb, a Democrat who served a single term after defeating heavily favored George Allen in 2006. During a rally in that election cycle, Allen shockingly referred to a Webb campaign operative as “macaca”, a slur that was captured on camera by the very same operative, who’d been assigned to track Allen as part of best practices employed by many political campaigns. In the ensuing weeks, Allen’s lead dwindled, and the upstart Webb, a decorated Marine Corps officer who served in Vietnam, a former Secretary of the Navy, and a novelist, would eventually triumph by a squeaky margin. We at Blood And Gutstein feel as if Mr. Webb, a very solid character by all accounts, should be given more attention by voters, and at the same time, we feel as if the word “macaca” might play an integral role in the presidential candidate’s aspirations. Below, we have laid out Jim Webb’s path to the White House.

First of all, for Webb to win the Democrat nomination, Hillary Clinton must utter the word “macaca.” It’s unlikely that Hillary would say “macaca” to begin with, but if the scrutiny regarding her time as Secretary of State should continue or deepen, or should the surging Sanders overtake her in the polls, or should Hillary and her campaign sprout additional scandals, she might be vulnerable. The question is, would she say “macaca” publicly or would she say it on a private server? Perhaps she would deem “macaca” classified and therefore reserve it for her private server. Should Hillary never say “macaca” the Webb team could always pursue the mash-up angle, fusing together something like, “I wish those interns would stop mackin’ on Bill”, with “It’s been a while since I went caca.” Given that Jim Webb is polling less than Hillary, Sanders, and (unannounced) Biden, we see the Democrat nomination as the tougher of the two challenges facing the former Senator. He is polling ahead of Lincoln Chafee and Martin O’Malley, however, although pollsters have yet to identify a single Chafee and a single O’Malley supporter.

If Webb should garner the nomination of his party, then he would require Donald Trump to say “macaca” in order to defeat the billionaire mogul for the presidency. Judging from Mr. Trump’s jingoist narrative on illegal immigration, it’s possible that the real estate magnate has spoken the word “macaca” before and might again, perhaps to defy those who might hiss “tsk!” in his direction. Mr. Trump apparently plays many rounds of golf. Perhaps he would shout “macaca” on the golf course. Many former golfing partners of Mr. Trump accuse him of cheating at golf, you know, by kicking his ball free of danger or magically causing his ball to appear very close to the hole. That’s all fine and dandy among his cadre of reality TV stars, et cetera, but he better not demand any “gimme chip-ins” from Putin, or that’ll be World War Three! Trump may want to deport “macaca”, he may want to build a fence to keep “macaca” off the lawn, and he might want to ensure that the offspring of “macaca” cannot run for president in the future. He may want to fire “macaca” as part of his reality TV endeavors. “Macaca”, he would muse, “you’re fired!”

Wednesday, September 2, 2015


Bafetimbi Gomis as “the black panther”, celebrating the winning goal

The recently released documentary, Jack To A King, chronicles the story of a small Welsh football club, Swansea City, which had competed at the top flight of English football a few decades ago, only to suffer a series of reversals until the community, outraged at misfortune and poor management, bonded together to purchase the club. Even as the switch of ownership defied convention and created optimism, the club nevertheless faced a fixture at the end of the 2002-03 season to preserve its league status. Had Swansea dropped the match, it would have suffered relegation from League Two down to a wilderness formerly known as “Conference”, a level of competition where clubs have difficulty attracting professional players and might relinquish their hope. Fortunately, the Swans (also known as the Jacks) defeated Hull City in May, 2003, to secure its place in the league system. From that point forward, in fits and starts, Swansea climbed from League Two to League One, and from there to “Championship”, the second highest tier in English football. The club climbed back into the top flight, the Premier League, for the 2011-2012 season. Most pundits predicted a swift return to Championship.

Fast forward to August 30, 2015, when an inside-out swerving pass from Andre Ayew, a forward who signed for Swansea this past summer, found Bafetimbi Gomis, a striker who has demonstrated his complete game—leaping, speed, strength, instinct—time after time. Gomis ran onto the ball, and with one touch, beat the goalkeeper at the near post. The goal, at the 66th minute, built upon Ayew’s goal, just five minutes earlier, to give Swansea a 2-1 lead. The game ended 2-1, with Swansea earning all three points in the table, depriving its opponent of same. “Its opponent” refers to one Manchester United. Maybe you’ve heard of this outfit? Often called United or Man U, this football team has collected 20 league titles over the years and wields resources far greater than Swansea—maybe ten times greater, maybe higher. “Resources” must include payroll, for sure, but also financial reserves, facilities, worldwide brand recognition, and international fan base, at the very least. This year, the BBC valued the club at $1.98 billion. In contrast, Swansea was sold less than fifteen years ago for a single pound. By beating Man U this past Sunday, Swansea have now defeated The Red Devils three times in a row, after sweeping both matches last season.

Two of the D.C. Jacks after the final whistle

The Swans will travel to Manchester on January 2, to play the return match against United. Should Swansea win that fixture, it would join Liverpool and Manchester City as the only clubs (ever) to defeat The Red Devils four games in a row. By capturing eight points on its first four matches, the Swans currently sit fourth in the table, an improbable distance between this little club and the drop—relegation—predicted by the pundits virtually every season since the Swans reentered the top flight. The club impresses. From the management to the coaches to the starting eleven to the substitutes to the players not named on the game day roster, the club impresses. We American hooligans howl, chuckle, blabber when the Swans topple a financially superior club, but perhaps the time has come when we should no longer view such triumphs as exotic results. In every major sport, in every country around the world, a side that plays with cohesion can beat any other side, despite the gulf in finances, but these outcomes tend to transpire in islands, not as part of a regular streak. It’s early, yet, in the 2015-16 Prem. Thirty-four matches (and 102 points) have yet to be contested (and claimed) but the captain, Ashley Williams, and the rest of the boys, remind us that greatness doesn’t always bloom from big money, but from a team.

Wednesday, August 26, 2015


He hallucinated the presence of a girlfriend in his life; he was seeing someone.

This vision led to headaches; he took it with a migraine of salt.

His Jamaican friend rode the autobus; he paid rasta fare.

The same friend decided to effect a clean slate with his legs; a fibula rasa.

A band came on the radio; Ramen At Work.

The song, “Who Can It Beef Now”, tickled listeners with power pop hooks; it didn’t noodle around.

Trans Fats Domino came on the radio; a commercial followed for Trans Fats Domino Sugar.

A commercial followed for Air Trans Fats Domino; for Trans Fats Domino Theory.

The man by now clip clopped down the stairs to the subway; he passed through the stile with style.

He thought of two motion pictures that would take place at the machines that governed entrance to the subway; one of them, “Doggy Stile”, predicted euphoric canine encounters.

He traded the word “citrus” for the word “circus”; in his mind, the Ringling Bros. Citrus was coming to town.

The man traded the word “Mylanta” for “Santa” and the name “Klaus” for “Claus”; in his mind, Mylanta Klaus was coming to town.

There were three stars in the evening sky; “Let us kiss three times”, the man thought.

He thought of a woman he really loved; “Let us kiss three times”—and all will be forgiven.