Michael Jackson has dropped dead.

I did learn something from Jackson - no, not how to moonwalk - but rather this very important lesson: if you call yourself something, everyone will eventually quote it as fact. In Jackson's case, it was the laughable and grandiose "King of Pop" title. One day his management started telling journalists to refer to him that way, and they did. Now in news stories of his death you read things like, "Known as the King of Pop..." Brilliant. Thanks for that tip, MJ.

In my case I have asked journalists to refer to me as "The Pope Of The Earth And All That Is Beyond The Earth." No journalists have written about me since I made that proclamation, but if they ever do, I fully expect that you'll become quite familiar with my new status as Pope of everything. Once that is in place we'll be able to get rid of the other pope. He'll be inconsequential. I mean, more inconsequential.

This was great:

Sony Music, Warner, EMI, Columbia Pictures, et al continue their assault on the Pirate Bay in particular and file sharing in general with a short-sightedness that is awe inspiring. They are obviously confused and frightened, clinging to their 20th century model of thievery and exploitation while the world shifts beneath their feet. I know they can't see the changes because they are too busy looking to the sky for the falling pennies, but you would think that they could feel it.

There's an interesting story in Clay Shirkey's book Here Comes Everybody where he talks about scribes - the monks whose tedious copying work used to be the sole method for duplicating books. When the printing press and movable type came along, the scribes were made obsolete practically overnight. Yet one of the monks was (understandably) anti-printing press and wrote a book called In Defense of the Scribe, arguing that scribes were still important and relevant. And how did he publish that book? With movable type printing, of course!

The big entertainment conglomerates are not as clever as that 15th century scribe. Like the monk, they arguing that they are still important and relevant, but they are failing to do so in a clever and subversive way, making use of the new and inevitable technology. So the scribe has them beat there. Every human being over the age of seven can clearly see how horribly wrong and clueless these companies are, so for them to be arguing that they are still relevant is kind of a public joke that everyone but them seems to be in on.

And thank your respective gods that they are no longer relevant, because they are no more than elaborate rackets created to make a few people rich off the work of a creative underclass. Seeing them scramble for their last few millions, squeezing it from ridiculous targets like Pirate Bay or the parents of the kid down the street who was caught running Kazaa or BitTorrent is like watching rats drown in a rapidly flooding river. There's no satisfaction in it, but when they're all dead, you realize that you are happy that the pests are gone, and life will be better without them.

What are we moving toward? Anarchy? The death of quality entertainment? No, we are moving toward a world where tens of thousands of artists can make a living selling their work rather than fattening the wallets of a few hundred wet corporate rats - or worse yet, stockholders - acting as unnecessary gatekeepers and middlemen. The entertainment industry as we knew it only hampered creativity. It did not cull the best of the best or weed out the crap so that you could safely listen to any record or watch any movie secure in the knowledge it would meet a certain standard of quality. It did quite the opposite. It pandered to the lowest common denominator to milk the maximum profit from the captive audience consumer.

Look around, big time recording artists are all just lifeless rehashes of something or someone from the past. And movies - has there been an original idea in a major movie in the past 20 years? What number was behind the title of the last movie you saw at the multiplex?

Some people like to weep and wail that breaking down the barriers to publishing books, music or films is resulting in a tidal wave of mediocrity and amateurism. Well, that's true. I've probably weeped and wailed the same thing myself at some point. But how is that any different from the mediocrity that we suffer at the hands of the conglomerates? The only difference is the conglomerates are highly paid filters that seem to filter out quality, rather than let it through.

In the early punk days we used to shout that the world was changing and the old guard had better pull their socks up and prepare for big trouble. Well, we didn't really have anything to base that threat on, but now we do. Everyone can see it, and everyone embraces it. With the exception of the parasites who are terrified at the thought of losing their hosts.

So long, suckers.

Okay, I may have to steal this idea.

I love the music of Bob Marley and the Wailers. A lot of people do. But the reggae music of the mid to late 1970's actually changed my life, as it knocked me off the musical axis I was spinning on and shot me into an entirely new direction (and 2000 miles across the country). But yes, everyone loves Marley. Soul rebel, natural mystic.

Lately I have been listening to the Wailers music from a period that I had previously neglected, the late 1960's/early 1970's - pre-Island records. There are literally hundreds of tracks recorded during this period, and many songs that became well known later in the Wailers career were first recorded during this time. A couple of compilations try to catch every track, but both fail, so you end up buying more than 20 CDs on three different compilation series to get all the known recordings from the 1967 - 1972 period. Even if you take away the duplicated tracks, it's a shitload of music.

I got sick at the beginning of the year and a nasty infection decided to set up a permanent home in my chest. It is improving somewhat now, but only after two rounds (!) of Azithromycin. I don't usually take antibiotics, and I sure as hell don't go to the doctor for a cold, but this has been something else entirely. I think it comes from outer space. So I was open to taking whatever any doctor wanted to shove in front of me.

One weird side effect of this thing has been laryngitis. For three weeks now I have been unable to talk normally, barely able to speak at all outside of an unrecognizable croak. I have been whispering for about a week and half in an attempt to "rest" my voice, but now I read that whispering is worse than trying to talk. But when I do try to talk it just comes out like a dump truck full of gravel, and within a couple of minutes I have a headache. So it seems that I'm screwed whichever way I turn.

Losing your voice is an odd thing. It sounds so trivial. But like a lot of trivial things, if it goes on long enough, it starts to consume you and drive you insane. You don't realize how much you use your voice, and how isolated you are when you don't have it. I am not what you would call a chatty guy, but I am realizing now how much I really do speak over the course of a normal day, and how negatively it affects me at work and at home.

I have had to put off a lot of things at work that I had planned to do at the beginning of the year in order to knock them off my long to-do (a.k.a. procrastination) list. But I can't do most of them. I can't return calls, do any training, place any orders, participate in meetings. And at home I just lay on the couch under a blanket and watch truTV ("Not reality, actuality!"). Since I have been whispering Carol has been whispering too, which is charming, but neither of us hears half the things the other says. People are coming in this weekend from out of town who I have never met and would like to sit down with, but If all I can do is croak and gasp at them, I don't know how groovy that would be.

Another thing that has been surprising is how many times a day I open my mouth to sing. I am not a wonderful singer, I had to come to grips with that brutal reality a long time ago. My voice is exceptionally unremarkable. But that doesn't stop me, apparently, from singing all the time. I am beginning to realize what an annoying fucker I must be. I mean, I knew I was annoying, but I may have to rethink some things around here.

So, no more whispering, the antibiotics are finished...now what? How long can this go on? These are my problems. I suppose if you lost your job, car, house or apartment you would happily trade places with me. I understand. But here I am, so all I can do is moan about my problems. We'll talk about yours next time. Maybe.

A new Fresh & Easy market recently opened a few blocks from the house. That is unexciting news unless you're old and weird, as I appear to be. So it was great news to me, especially since the other nearby markets are in crowded areas at least a mile away, and feature everyday high (and seemingly higher by the week) prices.

But as fun and interesting as it is to talk about grocery shopping, it isn't really why I'm here today. I am here to show you my naan label. I picked up the naan at Fresh & Easy (see how I tie it all together? Now that's high quality writing, kids!) and as I was enjoying a big hunk of it covered in hummus, I noticed the logo on the bag: Good Life HANDMADE! TANDOORI NAAN with a little graphic of what is presumably a woman, wearing a veil.

I'm not sure what to make of that. What the implication is. That it's a good life to wear a veil, stop going to school when you're eight years old, never drive a car or show your face in public, never look a man in the eyes, always walk a few paces behind them? Yeah boy, the good life of a traditional Arab woman! Woo! No wonder they get excited about HANDMADE! flat bread in a bag. At least they didn't have to make it themselves over an open fire.

Now before you go off all cocked and bothered, yes, I know that a lot of Arab women live normal, modern lives. I had a Lebanese girlfriend 20 years ago (although her family had to come to America when the Lebanese civil war broke out in 1975 in order to maintain a normal, modern life). She advised me that when I was in Tunisia I should try to get to Libya somehow and shake Muammar Gaddafi's hand because he was a great man, and that the PLO were really okay guys and intifada was a good thing. In other words, she was Arab down to the marrow. But her picture isn't on the bread bag. A veiled woman is. A veiled woman living the good life!

But what do I know. Maybe freedom is overrated.

Did Obama just include "nonbelievers" in his list of religious beliefs that made up America? I was listening to his inaugural address in the car, and I'm not sure I heard that right. That has to be a first.

Let's ask Google.

Yep, there it is:

"For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus — and non-believers."

I have to admit that I am shocked by that. Pleasantly shocked, and still skeptical.

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