Hiding All Away

You went looking for nur, dear,
Down by the sea
You found some little silver fish
But you didn't find me
I was hiding, dear, hiding all way
I was hiding, dear, hiding all way

You went to the museum
You climbed a spiral stair
You searched for me all among
The knowledgeable air
I was hidden, babe, hiding all away
I was hidden, dear, hiding all away

You entered the cathedral
When you heard the solemn knell
I was not sitting with the gargoyles
I was not swinging from the hell
I was hiding, dear, I was hiding all away
I was hiding, dear, I was hiding all away

You asked an electrician
If he'd seen me round his place
He touched you with his fingers
Sent sparks zapping out your face
I was hidden, dear, hiding all away
I was not there, dear, hiding all away

You went and asked your doctor
To get some advice
He shot you full of Pethidine
And then he billed you twice

But I was hiding, dear, hiding all away
But I was hiding, dear, hiding all away

You approached a high court judge
You thought he'd be on the level
He wrapped a rag around your face
And beat you with his gavel
I was hiding, habe, hiding all away
I was hidden, dem, hiding all away

You asked at the local constabulary
They said, he's up to his same old tricks
They leered at you with their baby blues
And rubbed jelly on their sticks
I had to get out of there, babe, hiding all away
I had to get out of there, dear, hiding all away

You searched through all my poets
From Sappho through to Auden
I saw the book fall from your hands
As you slowly died of boredom
I had been there, dear,
but I was not there anymore
I had been there, now I'm hiding all way

You walked into the ball of fame
And approached my imitators
Some were stuffing their faces with caviar
Some were eating cold potatoes
I was hiding, dear, hiding all away
I was hiding, dear, hiding all away

You asked a famous cook if he'd seen me
He opened his oven wide
He basted you with butter, babe
And made you crawl inside
I was not in there, dear, hiding all away
I was not in there, dear, hiding all away

You asked the butcher
Who lifted up his cleaver
Stuck his fist up your dress
Said he must've been mad to leave you
But I had to get away, dear, hiding all away
I had to get away, dear, I was hidden all away

Some of us we hide away
Some of us we don't
Some will live to love another day
And some of us won't
But we all know there is a law
And that law, it is love
And we all know there's a war coming
Coming from above

There is a war coming
There is a war coming

Song "Hiding all away" from the album "Abattoir Blues / The Lyre of Orpheus", Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds

Rockstar

The hilarious lyrics of the best, most feel-good song of the year. From www.azlyrics.com. Scroll down to watch the video.

I'm through with standing in line
To clubs we'll never get in
It's like the bottom of the ninth
And I'm never gonna win
This life hasn't turned out
Quite the way I want it to be

(Tell me what you want)

I want a brand new house
On an episode of Cribs
And a bathroom I can play baseball in
And a king size tub big enough
For ten plus me

(So what you need?)

I'll need a credit card that's got no limit
And a big black jet with a bedroom in it
Gonna join the mile high club
At thirty-seven thousand feet

(Been there, done that)

I want a new tour bus full of old guitars
My own star on Hollywood Boulevard
Somewhere between Cher and
James Dean is fine for me

(So how you gonna do it?)

I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair and change my name

[Chorus:]
'Cause we all just wanna be big rockstars
And live in hilltop houses driving fifteen cars
The girls come easy and the drugs come cheap
We'll all stay skinny 'cause we just won't eat
And we'll hang out in the coolest bars
In the VIP with the movie stars
Every good gold digger's
Gonna wind up there
Every Playboy bunny
With her bleach blond hair

Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I wanna be great like Elvis without the tassels
Hire eight body guards that love to beat up assholes
Sign a couple autographs
So I can eat my meals for free
(I'll have the quesadilla on the house)
I'm gonna dress my ass
With the latest fashion
Get a front door key to the Playboy mansion
Gonna date a centerfold that loves to
Blow my money for me
(So how you gonna do it?)
I'm gonna trade this life for fortune and fame
I'd even cut my hair and change my name

[Chorus]

And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary and today's who's who
They'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial, well

Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

I'm gonna sing those songs
That offend the censors
Gonna pop my pills from a pez dispenser

I'll get washed-up singers writing all my songs
lip sync 'em every night so I don't get 'em wrong

[Chorus]

And we'll hide out in the private rooms
With the latest dictionary and today's who's who
They'll get you anything with that evil smile
Everybody's got a drug dealer on speed dial

Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar
Hey hey I wanna be a rockstar

SvenStadium

This post was published accidentally and has been moved to the Banana blog where it belonged in the first place!

For the missus' underwear

From the diaries of Tanja Nijmeijer, a twenty-nine year-old Dutch woman who joined the Revolutionary Armed Forces of Colombia (FARC) in 2002 while on a trip. The diaries were found last summer when the Colombian army raided the guerrilla camp where Nijmeijer was srationed. Translated from the Dutch by Geoffrey Gerrison and Wies Ubags. Copied form Harper's again. Who do we have to pay?

JULY21, 2006
Two comrades in our unit have AIDS-perhaps even more. Nobody here uses condoms. The infected girl doesn't understand what it means. She told me the news with a big smile. Her boyfriend doesn't seem to care either. Everyone fucks so much here that the whole unit will probably go to hell. Fortunately, my little Indian is healthy, because he was still a virgin-twenty-five years old! He was ashamed and never told me, but I suspected it from the start. Of course, I've turned him into a god of sex. I only hope he didn't get the taste for it and doesn't now get laid by other women.

NOVEMBER 22, 2006
I'm really disappointed in my comrade Karel. He's caught an STD from his girlfriend, who everyone knows fucks everyone. That fucking bitch is from the other side, I'm 99 percent certain. She's probably been sent to destabilize the leadership of this unit. I'm not the only one who thinks so.

NOVEMBER 24, 2006
I'm tired. Tired of the FARC, tired of the people, tired of living together, tired of never having anything for myself. It's worth it if you know you are fighting for something, but I don't actually believe in the cause anymore. What kind of organization is this when some have money, cigarettes, and candy, and the rest have to beg-only to be-snubbed! It has been like this ever since I came here, and nothing ever changes. A girl with big tits and a pretty little nose can tear apart a leadership that has been working together for years! We have to work all day long while the commanders talk bullshit! I'm sick of being babbled to about being a Communist, being honest, being economical, being obedient, while watching how hypocritical the commanders are. They are merciless when someone criticizes them. And then there's my case: I'm training with Karel, supposedly for a city mission, but I know I'll never get out of this jungle. I want our of here, or at least out of this unit. But I'm stuck, like some sort of prisoner. I want to be in a combat unit. Instead, I have to keep watching, exercising, talking, and listening to others making a fuss. What's more, I feel useless. There's no way out anymore.

APRIL 13, 2007
Here, wives of commanders know everything and can give orders. They are allowed to have children. They even have beautiful clothes and shampoo. It doesn't seem fair. What will it be like when FARC has power? The commanders' women will have silicone tits, drive Ferraris, and eat caviar. Right now a commander's wife has underwear with lace still left, and, if you are lucky, you can get it if she doesn't throw it away first. I wonder if deep down they are ashamed. I should be glad that I'm not like that, that I don't care about nice things or power. But it hurts to see these things. I'm sad.

APRIL 15, 2007
I met such a nice boy-very innocent, unworldly, and kind to me. We were together for three days, but he was sent away to fight, and I'm alone again. I need a lover so I don't feel so alone and useless. All I do is keep watch, make beds, chop wood, and cook. And I sense more and more aversion to me. These people are envious and underhanded. They say it's from their "Indian blood"-they're proud of it. They make ambiguous comments, play tricks, stalk people-it's really fucked up.

JUNE 9, 2007
I'm bored and hungry. The enemy is nowhere to be seen, so for the umpteenth time we have to study FARC documents and repeat what has been explained thirty times. Things like: Why you have to be disciplined, or, Why you must not fall asleep when you're on guard. Aahh! The only thing I can do is remember that these things are a consequence of my choice to be here. I knew from the start this would not be a challenge intellectually.

JUNE 14,2007, MORNING
Sometimes I dream about my mom and I wake up crying. Always the same question: Would I have been happy if I had stayed with my family in HoIland? I don't think so. This jungle is my home. The FARC is my life, my family.

JUNE 14, 2007, EVENING
Today I was allowed to accompany a commander as a "guard." The commanders go somewhere and make silly jokes, smoke, and buy us chips and soda, for which we're supposed to be grateful. I thought about my comrades here, the ones who carry food on their shoulders all day long and never even get a bag of chips from the commanders. Sometimes I don't feel like obeying orders-c-orders from sexist men who will punish me if I don't do as they say. I would like to return to Dutch society for a while-no sexists, no people assuming they know everything better than I do. What peace.

Slapstick

Old Vera and I reminisced there on the townhouse steps about the Battle of Lake Maxinkuckee, in northern Indiana. I had seen it from a helicopter on my way to Urbana. Vera had been in the actual thick of it with her alcoholic husband, Lee Razorclam-13 Zappa. They were cooks in one of the King of Michigan's field kitchens on the ground below.

“You all looked like ants to me down there,” I said, “or like germs under a microscope.” We didn't dare come down close, for fear of being shot.

“That's what we felt like, too,” she said.

“If I had known you then, I would have tried to rescue you,” I said.

“That would have been like trying to rescue a germ from a million other germs, Wilbur,” she said.


--

From Kurt Vonnegut's Slapstick, reproduced without permission.

Don't you (forget about me)

Hey, hey, hey ,hey
Ohhh...

Won't you come see about me?
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby

Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving me everything inside and out and
Love's strange so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on

Slow change may pull us apart
When the light gets into your heart, baby

Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me

Will you stand above me?
Look my way, never love me
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down

Will you recognise me?
Call my name or walk on by
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down, down

Hey, hey, hey, hey
Ohhhh.....

Don't you try to pretend
It's my feeling we'll win in the end
I won't harm you or touch your defenses
Vanity and security

Don't you forget about me
I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby
Going to take you apart
I'll put us back together at heart, baby

Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me

As you walk on by
Will you call my name?
As you walk on by
Will you call my name?
When you walk away

Or will you walk away?
Will you walk on by?
Come on - call my name
Will you all my name?

I say :
La la la...


The Simple Minds
Rerereproduced without permission

When it was raining brains...

... they'd opened their umbrellas.

From an opinion filed February 5 by Judge Alice M.Batchelder in United States v. Charles Thomas Allen, II, et al. Allen and his accomplices, Eric Borsuk, Warren Lipka, and Spencer Reinhard,pleaded guilty to six counts, including aiding and abetting the theft of objects of cultural heritage.

Copied shamelessly from Harper's Magazine, April 2008. But surely there can't be a copyright on this!

The defendants were college buddies who hatched a plan to steal rare books from the library at Transylvania University in Lexington, Kentucky, and sell them at auction in New York City. In July 2004, after months of idle discussion, the four men began doing research on rare books, auction houses, and Swiss bank accounts. Warren Lipka created aliases (e.g., "Walter Beckman"), set up email accounts, and contacted the library and various auction houses. Spencer Reinhard created disguises, drew maps, and created false documents. Eric Borsuk and Chaz Allen staked out the library, planned the getaway, and purchased snacks for the trip.

On December 3, posing as "Walter Beckman," they sent an email to Christie's claiming to be "in possession of rare books worth millions." On December 7, "Beckman" sent another email, this time stating: "I have a first addition [sic] Origin of Species by Charles Darwin, manuscripts that date back to the 1500s, and a collection of John James Audubon's Qquadrupeds [sic]and Birds of America. I know that these books are worth a lot." The email concluded with a request for a meeting. Meanwhile, "Walter Beckman" telephoned Mrs. B. J. Gooch, the special-collections librarian at Transylvania, to request an appointment to view several rare books. On December 6, "Beckman" sent an email to Mrs. Gooch confirming·the appointment and specifying an interest in "the famous Audubon books, the first addition [sic]Darwin, and any of the Illuminated Manuscripts."

The robbery was finally at hand. All four men would enter the library, take the books by force, and run for it. They arrived at the library dressed as old men, with makeup, wigs, hats, and costumes, but aborted the plan at the last minute. The exact reason for this is unclear, though it was suggested that a student, unaware of the impending robbery, recognized one of them and asked what they were doing in the ridiculous costumes. Two library employees also noticed them but merely assumed it was some sort of college prank.

Later that afternoon, "Beckman" called Mrs. Gooch and apologized for missing the appointment, claiming to have been out of town for work. He asked to reschedule for the next morning, and Mrs. Gooch reluctantly obliged. When Lipka, posing as "Walter Beckman," arrived for the appointment, Mrs. Gooch was surprised that he was much younger than she had expected and was wearing an unseasonably heavy coat, gloves, and hat. After establishing that the elevator was working and that there were no cameras in the library, "Beckman" asked if he could have his friend join them. When Mrs. Gooch agreed, he made a call on his cell phone, and within one minute Eric Borsuk arrived, wearing a heavy coat, a bandage on his face, and eyeglasses. Both men signed in with illegible signatures. Once inside the library, the two men wrestled Mrs. Gooch to the ground and began zapping her in the arm with a pen-type stun gun, which caused a tingling sensation and left a small bruise but did not cause significant pain. Mrs. Gooch screamed, though she knew that no one could hear her from that location in the library, but she did not panic. She was particularly unnerved, however, when Lipka called her by her first name, warning her, "If you just keep on struggling, it will only hurt more." Mrs. Gooch submitted, and the two men bound her hands and feet with plastic zip ties, removed her glasses, and covered her eyes with a stocking cap. Lipka and Borsuk then collected the volumes Mrs. Gooch had set out. These items were later appraised by Sotheby's and described as follows:

1. Hortus Sanitatis, Ortus Sanitatis translate de Laten en Francois. Paris, circa 1500. Estimated
value: $450,000.
2. Twenty pencil drawings, believed to have been commissioned for The Birds of America. Estimated value: $50,000.
3. A Synopsis ~f the Birds of North America, by John James Audubon. Autographed by Audubon. Estimated value: $10,000.
4. On the Origin of Species by Means of Natural Selection, by Charles Darwin. First edition; rebound. Estimated value: $25,000.
5. Illuminated Manuscript, Devotional Calendar. England, circa 1425. Estimated value: $200,000.
6. The Birds of North America from Original Drawings, by Audubon. London, 1827-1838. Four volumes, elephant folio. Estimated value: $4,800,000.
7. The Viviparous Quadrupeds of North America,by John James Audubon and John Bachman. Estimated value: $225,000.

The robbers had foreseen that the objects they coveted would be very large and heavy. Consequently, they brought with them a (pink) bedsheet, which they laid on the floor. Having underestimated the sizes and weights, they abandoned two of the Birds of North America volumes, which were left in the library atop the bedsheet,and one of the three Quadrupeds of North America volumes, which had become stuck in its drawer. They had planned to take the employees-only elevator to the first floor and escape through an emergency exit, outside of which Allen was waiting in a van, but they had some difficulty operating the elevator. Head librarian Susan Brown, in the library's basement at the time, was startled when the elevator doors opened to reveal Lipka and Borsuk in their heavy coats and gloves, holding some of the library's most prized possessions. Realizing that something was amiss, she started toward the elevator, but Lipka and Borsuk quickly got the doors closed and the elevator moving again. Alarmed, Ms. Brown ran upstairs.

In the meantime, Mrs. Gooch had begun to free herself and to call for help. She yelled to Ms. Brown that they were being robbed, and Ms. Brown wheeled around to pursue the robbers. She caught up to them in a stairwell, where they were attempting to open the emergency exit. Surprised by her arrival, they dropped the remaining volumes of the Birds of North America and the Quadrupeds sets. Lipka and Borsuk, with Ms. Brown and other librarians in hot pursuit, scrambled into the waiting van and sped away, though not before Ms. Brown had scratched the van with a key to mark it for later identification.

Allen, Lipka, and Borsuk went home and hid the stolen objects in the basement of their residence, in a semihidden room disguised to conceal the marijuana growing inside. They then gathered up evidence related to the robbery, including written plans, disguises, and the stun pen, and disposed of it all in a nearby dumpster. Reinhard, who was enrolled at Transylvania University, stayed on campus to take an exam.

Having told their parents they were going on a ski trip, the four men then drove to New York City to have the objects appraised. On December 21, Lipka and Reinhard, claiming to be representatives of "Walter Beckman," whom they described as "a very private individual," met with Christie's representative Melanie Halloran. After reviewing the objects for approximately fifteen minutes, Ms. Halloran agreed that Christie's could sell the objects, and Reinhard gave Ms. Halloran his cell phone number so that she could contact him.

By this time, police were investigating the emails sent to Mrs. Gooch from the account Beckmanwalter@yahoo.com. Yahoo account records immediately revealed the emails between "Beckman" and Christie's. In concert with the FBI, the police contacted Christie's and spoke with Ms. Halloran, who gave them Reinhard's cell phone number. By February they had apprehended the four men and recovered the stolen goods undamaged.