Some people turn to crime from a sense of desperation or urgency. I prefer to think I was born to it, although it took a lot of patient study, combined with some barking up the wrong tree to find my niche. Or what I thought was my niche. For a while my partnership with these enterprising young thugs seemed to hold some promise. The business plan, like so many that have generated fabulous wealth, was simple enough in conception. The nerve to see it through was there. Damn if there wasn’t nerve.The artistry required to put it into play is all that was lacking. That is why I have to say I was born to this. It’s the only excuse I can come up with.
Extortion is a pretty old game; and you can’t always depend upon the judicious application of force to liquify people’s assets. There are just too many fucking legal remedies. You’ve got to have an angle. We at Mealy Bros. sought to generate income with a three-tiered approach.
First, we’d drop our demo at your nightclub, radio station, or small, struggling record company, along with the pertinent contact information; then, after things had a chance to cool off a bit, we’d drop another one. If there was still no response, we’d appoint a member of the group (usually me) to drunk dial our contacts and ask them if they were just pussies, or tone deaf poseurs fronting for A&M, MCA, or worse, Green Linnet. Oh, and had they ever noticed a large tattooed male in pajamas standing outside their office window with a crowbar and a brick? Like, right about now?
Well, like I said, we lacked virtuosity, and a fourth element of the business plan which would have given us some clue as to what to do with the shoeboxes full of CDs we had printed. For awhile we considered using them to heat our homes, but that would have been environmentally unsound, at least after the cardboard had been consumed. They’re probably occupying a moldy corner of a thrift store somewhere, just waiting to be sampled by a discerning hip hop artist.
I’m not ready to give extortion up entirely, however. That’s why I’ve meticulously preserved this (and other) photographs of a certain young man who went on to achieve deserved fame with an extremely well written (and received) book. He’s one of the nicest, most gracious people you’ll ever meet. But he couldn’t see his way to part with the mere $2,000.00 I asked in exchange for not printing this photograph on my widely read blog.
C’est la guerre, professor Tyson.
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January 14, 2010 at 9:15 pm
littleaugury
Good one, I know by name only that author, after writing a book like that-the man can have little fear of publication. It’s Twiggy’s hair that is coming as quite a shock.
January 14, 2010 at 9:23 pm
The Subtle Rudder
OH! THAT! HAIR!!! (Or Oh-Tee-aicHe as we say on the interwebz.)
And doesn’t “They’re probably occupying a moldy corner of a thrift store somewhere, just waiting to be sampled by a discerning hip hop artist” pretty much describe all our collective creative output from the pre-millennial era?
Come to think of it, THAT HAIR tells a familiar story, as well.
January 14, 2010 at 9:44 pm
coozledad
Twiggy just figured she’d blow it out with the last hundred or so fibers left on her head. It was the VH1 era. We were going full metal Hootie.
But it was always all about the music. And the beer.
January 15, 2010 at 8:12 am
Rose C'est La Vie
Now if the femme manquee had put his legs together, he’d have nothing to fear from you? Is that the rosary [s]he’s doing or has her necklace popped? What a sweet image of joy touched with vulnerability..
Who’s Twiggy? I am confused.
January 15, 2010 at 9:08 am
coozledad
My wife took both of those photos with her old Nikon. She has the eye. A lot of the time,when I’m hunting for photographs to draw from, it’s hers I wind up printing from the digital file. The picture of Tim Tyson (The author of Blood Done Sign My Name) is from a “fortified wine tasting” party we attended in Durham in 1987. Me and Tim tended bar at the same restaurant briefly. You’d enjoy his book. It’s a clearheaded description of the obstacles to social justice in the south of the sixties and seventies
Twiggy’s just another one of my aliases, but sadly, one I can’t use anymore. At the time that picture was taken I had to run two hours a day to maintain the rock performer’s body mass of an emaciated adolescent.
January 15, 2010 at 3:43 pm
moe99
Looks like we’re back to Twiggy looks in the fashion department:
http://crooksandliars.com/nonny-mouse/battle-bilge
January 15, 2010 at 3:51 pm
coozledad
Wow. That kid reminds me of the horror photos from Andersonville. Zaftig is fine, thanks.