Operation Rango: Somewhat Televised
rango, somewhat televised \m/
guys, ladies, musicians – the revolution will be somewhat televised. in fact it’s already on, and you can interact with it here. please join me at Dean Thomas Barnett’s channel featuring Sony recording artists, or create your own. but just get on it, ok? and tell him Rango sent you? it’s actually important \m/. pretty sure Sam Rahimi and Dianne Murray and John Summers agree 😀
Monster Storm / Tiny Monsters
you all stay safe from that monster storm. i’d like this story to play out with a few tragic Facebook brown-outs and some interesting stories about canned food, nothing more. you know the drill, i’m not going to act like your dad. maybe add cash and a shotgun to the list, and something to toss at the zombies.
here’s to peace, hugs, soup and canned fruit. i was without power once in Seattle for 10 days and we spent so much time snuggled up under the blankets with my ex, i actually thought it would save our marriage. but you see there are monsters, and then there are monsters. the big ones are scary, but the tiny ones are the worst.
heal your heart, and watch for trolls. they tend to troll about during the worst of storms, those opportunistic bastards. if they demand toll, just blast them. you know you have blasters, right? they’re your words. try them, they’re awesome. watch:
pew pew pew
-rango
Operation Rango: Morbid North
Matthew Meadows – Smokehouse (also selling you jeans)
1/2 through the photos but 100% out of steam. 10:30 DING DING DING more lame than rock star but the bloop bloop starts hours before the sun comes up and i love you people, but i’m a tired dogg. r.dogg, actually, hat’s off to super-mom Amy Trout for the moniker, that’s the media arm of my business and 2nd order of priority tomorrow once these pictures are printed and delivered. my number one ass
i am rango the dog \m/.
[stamp: r.dogg, esquire ]
PLAGUS: that’s not your name, and you’re not an esquire.
MONA: what’s an esquire?
RANGO: i have no idea, i thought it was an e-squire. i just want a squire, you know a little help around here with the dishes and facebook and shit? somebody to, you know, sheath the sword now and then? and help getting into/out of my body armor? it’s not easy being green. wait, perhaps Morbid North could help here. yo morbid:
MORBID: what the f*
MONA: BEEEEEEEEEP
RANGO: SINCE WHEN DO WE CENSOR YOU GOD DA***
MONA: BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP
RANGO: (does buddha) (-.-)
FRANKLIN: ??
RANGO: i’m done \m/
MORBID: ??
\m/ (-.-) \m/
Operation Rango: Franklin on Museboat
…alright guys, here’s the scoop. i need some social love in this vote over at Museboat radio. just go provide your email address in the box, my name, and in the comments section either call out Franklin or request a song for next week should i still be in the running. it’s a little thing, just take you a minute:
cheers,
<rango>
http://museboat.wix.com/multimedia#!__chart-votes
here’s the tune has it was presented today:
The Contravoice
the contravoice: it’s the other voice inside your head, the one that’s always popping off. it’s your mom, the demon on your shoulder, your dad, the angel from the painting. it’s rational when you’re irrational, it provides the suspension of your disbelief. it’s your intuition, your pessimist, your godhead or your serpent. it’s the contra voice and we all have it. sometimes it’s right and sometimes it’s wrong, and learning when to listen to it is a fine art, it’s called wisdom. so difficult it takes a lifetime to master it. that’s why they call them the golden years, if you make it that long you’re doing pretty good at surfing life.
One of these guys knows the Truth.
now imagine if you’re bipolar. the contravoice shifts in polarity in direct opposition to your mood swings. yesterday your contravoice encouraged you, and told you to keep the faith. you look fine, you’ll be ok, these things tend to work themselves out. maybe you remembered something from bible school or a pat on the back, a child or a lover. perfectly reasonable, dig deep and find the love. and it was enough, just like yesterday, of course it was fine, why wouldn’t it be? don’t worry, keep going .
toot toot, shift change, watch for apocalypse
enter the contravoice. today it presents convincing arguments that you’re poisonous, just point blank and laid out in cogent bullet points before a full-on in-memory slideshow of meteoric failures. the better the memory, the better the slideshow. pitty the genius. that’s why bipolars are 10x as likely as the rest of the population to commit suicide. and it throws in a little shame if you weren’t convinced. you’re smart enough to know it’s just Doubt coming up out of the well, so you rationalize, because you have to keep going, right?. everything’s fine, your family, your friends, your church, they’ll save you. but your contravoice is smarter than you. of course it is, and you have to concede to the logic and the arguments about the long term interests of all the vested individuals in your life because you’re still a decent person, just poisonous. so why are you here?
Zither Sculpture Grayscale Negative
“manic depression is a frustrating mess” – jimi hendrix
so boom, there we go popping off again. what to do about the contravoice? when i cannot crush Doubt with my will i must revert to my established working parameters:
1) what would jimi hendrix do?
2) what about kindness?
solution: take the vaporizer over the .38, and play that funky music, white boy. some girl will love it. love is magic. gather some magic and make a beautiful story. pretty sure that’s what jimi would do.
\m/ (-.-) \m/
Rango the Dog vs. Lakeside Milam Recovery Centers
Rage
i cannot reveal details of this person’s identity other than to say that during the course of the required family group meetings i expressed concern that this person wasn’t receiving effective treatment. i voiced an objection to their policy of treating everybody in group therapy without providing in-depth psychoanalytical skills like cognitive behavioral therapy or considerations for personal circumstances such as living with a bipolar polymath, or a traumatic divorce. i inquired about their efforts to track and improve their recovery rates since they were statistically no better than chance.
for all of my decidedly polite observations and inquiries i was told to (paraphrasing here) “sit down and shut up and be team player and that the patient was no different from anybody else”. i was shamed publicly as part of their protocol repeatedly by multiple counselors. their counselors allowed other family members to demonstrate extreme aggression to me without any efforts to disarm or mitigate clearly spiteful and slanderous aggression that i refused to address.
during the ensuing incarceration/therapy, which has proven to be wholly ineffective and for which we were charged roughly $35,000, this dependant never received significant or effective independent consultation but did routinely learn how peers were more effectively committing their crimes and thus actually became more habituated to the terms of their admission. i’m confident that independently collected and analyzed evidence will support the claim that this company and the performers and staff that work for them are a money-making institution working without substantiated evidence of efficacy, and with this information i intend to expose them and shut them down.
consider this a sidebar until i find a legal advocate willing to work on commission, but i’m taking my intent to wage this campaign publicly before more people face financial hardship and increased personal trauma by doing business with this company. remember, it’s a money-making company, purely a financial endeavor. 12-step gold, baby. my advice is do not take your loved ones here, based on my subjective experience and observations there’s evidence they will come out in worse shape than they went in, but with the tools to navigate social impediments to their addictions more effectively than when they were admitted.
Matthew Meadows
i must say the meetings are very entertaining, one step short of a 3rd rate Vaudeville act, literally featuring a bunch of “recovery” comedians teaching “the 12-step message”, much better than the 20 year old VHS tapes they showed repeatedly, but from this programmer’s point of view the system is decidedly lacking tractable data and not accountable for any results, whereas i am 100% accountable for my co-pay. they could at least afford DVD’s if the patients have to watch the same programs over and over again for weeks on end.
so i’m going to sue them, but this post and ensuing threads here, on Twitter, Socl, Google+ and my WordPress site at rangothedog.com will be my only acknowledgement on the topic until i get legal further consultation. and on the radio, of course, and the rest of the internet, but otherwise i’m going to be very hush-hush except when i’m blogging about it and sharing links to this post and the forthcoming flood of dissertations where i contact other patients and their families personally and broadcast their stories to the world.
buh-bye, milam, you guys got enough money now scoot before you do more harm.
-rango
Operation Rango: Trademarked(TM)
i’d like to trademark the use of the trademark symbol(TM) on posts. that shit will be forever funny to me. like this (randomly):
RANGO: plagus, rack ’em up.
PLAGUS: it’s done, r.dogg.
RANGO: good boy.
PLAGUS: That’s My Line(TM)
Test Shot-11. Duh. Somewhat popeish-no?
^^^ note the use of the proper-noun capitalization. i for one eschew (say it) the use of capitals for delimiting sentences predicated on the notion that as long as you have punctuation you’re wasting key strokes that don’t deliver meaningful information. also in favor of sticking it to that dude who wrote Elements of Style. Strunk? Strup? sounded like a bow-tie dude. anyway, you need them to delimit the proper noun that is your literary moniker for all time to claim in defiance of any other who would use the same words the same way. they’re your words, you have them trademarked, you own them, which begs the question:
do you own your words? or do they own you?
i prefer to use mine as weapons in the war against lameness and boredom, also when things get sexy, but YMMV <– Already Trademarked(TM).
https://rangothedog.com/2012/10/16/operation-rango-a-tale-of-three-popes/
Operation Rango: A Tale of Three Popes
so tonight i released The Pope – Purple, a raw take of my guitar solo The Pope. racking up 150 plays in the first hour, i started with this:
This is the Purple take of The Pope, one of the mixes Whiskey Tex heard before the song was officially canonized in Texas Dub / The Pope (uncut). It’s too fast, somewhat hyper, and distinctly purple.
The Pope – Purple
Rango moments before The Pope – Purpleish
however, i was ready with the follow-up:
while some 150 folks have getting exposed to The Pope in the first hour, it’ already old old hat to many of you. in fact here is the previous take, one i call Hat Dance. still to come: Detroit, baby.
http://fandalism.com/rangothedog/btcb
since i like to say this sometimes:
“triple” – rango, Operation Rango: Check 1,2 – The Final Cut
…i decided to toss the one out again because after listening to the others, including the as-yet unreleased Detroit mix, i’ve started to concede this one’s going to be hard to beat. this was the post (and thanks, guys. those comments on my Fandalism profile are just awesome to see and very, very generous):
http://fandalism.com/rangothedog/br4c
Tex just bought my guitar and saved my ass.
so Purple, the HatDance, and Detroit. 3 Popes, all quite fancy but none of them all that great. Part of a continuous sequence of 30 hours of playing that damn song, 10 hours of it captured on audio. i’ve presented to you the best 10 minutes of them, spunky but missing something. as in, another guitarist. cue the lights, enter Whiskey Tex. The pope shows up about 6:20, and he’s not Purple, HatDance, or Detroit, he’s just <the> pope and he’s likely in the company of a small legion of bloody paladins. (they just ring the bells and chimes for dramatic effect right before the head-crushing begins. have you seen my mace, btw)?
😮
some six minutes and change of southern rock riffage, pure improv, that slowly builds to six minutes and change of my Sunday Best(TM) neoclassical shred. Tex got my Les Paul and he showed up with mojo in a vial, the kind you keep on a shelf for years, one solid lick, the first he’d ever shared with me. and i was just my hyperactive, uncontrollable self, so i busted out with <my> 15 year lick and if i do say so myself it was somewhat fancier.
My Life as a Musical: Pantless
so i dressed like an idiot all day. fell asleep in my rango gear very late last night, woke up late and immediately, broke yet another mirror trying to catch the bloop at my workstation in the dark and then couldn’t find my pants. so, right, barefoot in the dark with the broken mirror, my last one, and no pants…any port in a storm, right?
i grab the first pair of jeans i can find and put them on, which was not easy. the LKG pair (Last Known Good) was and is <still> in the wash (i’ll get right on that). the others are scattered about upstairs, or in the garage. (sadly, i never unpacked into my own house). fortunately i bought some extra jeans at goodwill for the modeling shoot and they were still in the bag so i put them on and split.
i was running late but before i got out of the driveway i realized they were the pair that was “too short, but good for wearing inside your boots if you don’t want them all baggy in the leg”. remember, they were bought for a photo shoot, not to be practical. meanwhile i’ve got my dancing shoes on and no socks, canvas shoes with no sole in the arch, and of course it’s pouring rain out…
…at the Microsoft campus, where folk tend not to dress like idiots.
^^^ those jeans. wanted: ark, woman, sampling of species
so, yes, looking like a complete tool <all><day>, pretty much Skippy the Twerp, including right now. but i’ve come full circle, i’m home again (TRAFFIC!!!) and i’m getting out of this chair and gonna ditch these pants and do some dancing and practice Friday’s set for my neighbors. just as soon as i find my shorts :-D.
l8r,
r.dogg
Red Flags and the Hummingbird Express
via hummingbird express and my dear friend Dianne Murray, a random article about Red Flags: How to Identify a Psychopathic Bond. topics include:
Rage
Frightening Temper
Killing your Self Confidence
Cutting Off your Support
The Mean and Sweet Cycle
Breakup Panic
Paranoid Control
Friends and Family Dislike Him
The Waitress Test
Walking on Eggshells
Discounted Feelings / Opinions
They Make you Crazy
vaguely familiar? read the article. consider printing it out and bringing it to your therapist, lawyer, and friends and see if they agree. then prepare your support network, contact the people that love you most, and get out before your risk escalates into something truly dangerous like what happened to some of the women referenced in this article. these behaviors span all socioeconomic and religious strata. don’t wait for the hammer to fall twice.
“Truth is not a convenient fiction. Similarly, love is not a power game for anyone capable of this emotion. It’s the deepest and most significant bond human beings form with one another and the foundation of our lives. If you encounter a man who gives any signs that he regards love as a game and you as a “prize” to be won, fold your cards and quickly leave the table. Or, better yet, refuse to engage with him at all. Any intimate relationship with a psychopath is a gamble where you risk losing everything and from which you have nothing to gain.
http://psychopathyawareness.wordpress.com/2011/04/01/red-flags-how-to-identify-a-psychopathic-bond/
Rango's Dog House 