dred scott dispatches

feature this…

our new president, jazz lover, is listening tomorrow to his favorite d.c. jazz radio station.  he’s in the oval office listening on his wave station that herbie hancock gave to him going over some figures on the overhaul of the national health care system.

it’s 2pm and he is feeling a little full from the yak kabobs he had with hamid kurzai over a late lunch about the situation in afghanistan.  the disc jockey has just finished playing some piano trio music he liked but didn’t recognize and so he is listening to see who it was when the d.j. says it was dred scott and that he is on the phone to do an interview promoting his thursday nite show at twin’s jazz club in the heart of the u street entertainment district right here in d.c.  he stops what he is doing and listens to the interview finding the pianist to be an articulate and humurous ambassador of america’s great art form, jazz.  he recalls the community liason who recommended he go down to u street sometime to show his support for the locals and he thinks this would be the perfect opportunity.  

‘i want to meet this dred scott,’ he tells an aide.

‘people, we are going downtown thursday nite!!!’

(and this is what john mcneil added….)

our president then realizes that he is hallucinating, probably from some afghani pcp in the yak kabobs. he turns to his chief of staff who now resembles a three-headed goat deity worshiped by neolithic ukrainians, and says, 

‘bring this dred scott to me immediately. i’m too baked to go out in public.’ 

hamid karzai sees an opportunity and says,

 ’want to fuck a camel, mr. president? i can take movies.’

our president is no fool and kills karzai by striking him on the head with a bronze sculpture of dick cheney’s  genitals left accidently by the former president and now being used as a doorstop.

 ’i said BRING ME DRED SCOTT,  you triple goat-boy motherfucker,’ he screams and his chief of staff rushes to comply.  

‘and don’t forget the curry!  i can’t meet a piano player without curry in my shorts.’

i’m on a health kick.  so when i was in the japanese food store that had all kinds of exotic drinks, i chose kambucha - a vile tasting pro-biotic brew of enzymes and cultures that i guess what makes them so good for you is they are alive.  i’m playing a merce cunningham class and it’s during this balancing adagio while i’m playing this variation based on major seconds that i feel this sharp pain in my stomach that nearly makes me double over.  the rhythm is slow and i can continue with one hand and the sustain pedal as i duck below the piano and clutch my gut.  sweat is breaking out on my forehead and i start feeling clammy and itchy.  am i going to puke or shit?  can’t tell yet. 

 ’3………4………..5…….’ the dancers continue their exercise in gravity resistance.  i try to sit up and the room is spinning.  i feel like i might pass out.  there is a loud ringing in my ears.  i think the whole class is looking at me.  i want my mother.

and just as suddenly.  it passes.  i cool down and catch my breath.  the class is still dancing.  and to my surprise i am still playing.  that was weird i think and pick up the half empty bottle of kambucha when the exercise is finished.  on the side it plainly says,

‘possible .5% alcohol due to fermentation process.’

and i remember that i am on antabuse in an effort to stop drinking.

and i think, wow.  this antabuse shit is no joke.

dredscott.com

stream “live at the rockwood music hall” at last.fm

i never thought i had much in common with michael phelps.  here’s a very disciplined and committed guy.  zeroing in with pin-point accuracy on the goals he sets for himself.  a perfect physical specimen with a wholesome personality.  but when i found out dude likes to do a bong hit and go swimming i wasn’t that surprised.  that is one of my favorite things to do.  i really get into my breathing and can concentrate on my stroke - feeling my body cut through the water, seeking the most efficient way through.  it’s fun.  but i can also see how some people would want him to give back his medals.  it probably gave him an unfair advantage - if they can prove he was ‘doping’ during the games.  i don’t think they test for weed but maybe they should.  i know the winter olympics does after that tragic accident with the jamaican bobsled team.  i’ve always thought of pot as a performance enhancing drug but i never do anything too dangerous when i smoke it.  like bobsled down a chute at 80 miles an hour.  maybe they should start the summer olympic weed testing program with the dangerous sports first - javelin, fencing, archery, shooting.  but it comes down to fairness, doesn’t it.  smoking weed just isn’t fair in athletic competition.  and it can even be dangerous.