Tuesday, May 16, 2006

The belly of the beast smells like fishsticks



So
Ira Einhorn has a blog. I'm not sure if this elevates or decreases the value of blogging, but it sure makes it a little weirder. For those of you who aren't from West Philly, Ira Einhorn was a loudmouth with a generally scatterbrained lefty philosophy (according to Drahosh's co-worker Bob, who used to drink beer on the porch with him). He is popularly described as being a contemporary of all these famous radicals, but Einhorn's activist clout was pretty poor, it's just that he, erm, uh... murdered his Bryn Mawr girlfriend in '77, stuffed her in a trunk at his crib on Race St. in Powelton Village and then fled to France, where he chilled for 20-odd years awaiting extridition on account of France's death penalty opposition. If you're interested, you can read CourtTV's excessively dramatic rendition of that story here.

His blog consists largely of him reading books in prison and then writing extensive reviews. For the most part, the books he chooses are good ones. Besides, where else can you find a book review that starts out like this:

When I lived in Ireland (1981-1986) my closest male associate was a former terrorist leader who had been trained by the Syrians and as a result had been on call for a number of years, if needed on a mission.

There are very few males in a life richly adorned with friendship with whom I have bonded more deeply. After Eugene moved out of Dublin, I opened my apartment to him as a second home, and he came to treat it that way. When I fell into difficulties toward the end of my Irish stay, I was given duplicate
identity papers and for ten years became an identity duplicate of my friend. Our mutual trust was absolute.

That is not really what I drew from "Harold and the Purple Crayon," but hey, I don't have quite the same sense of perspective. I have not been to Dublin. No entries as of yet detailing what happens to a guy in prison who goes around calling himself "The Unicorn."


For those of you not attuned to such provincial matters, I will spare you any further such ramblings. Instead I'll focus more on ego and self promotion- something geographically transcendant.

So the sequel to last year's "Food Money Mixtape" is done, dun. Cleverly, I entitled it the "Beer Money Mixtape." (My mixtape nomenclature describes my progression towards luxury and/or sixes of Rogue) As I informed you a few weeks back, this tape is indeed a mashup heavy affair. The whole joint is pretty much straight electro, electro-disco and electro rap all the way through except for a Black Sheep track. Nobody in good conscience can keep Strobelite Honey off a mixtape if it fits- fuckavibe.

You can find the tape here (part1), here (part2) and here (part3).

If the download limit is exausted by the time you get here, feel free to hit me up and I'll get you a copy. West Philly distro is being handled by Abdul, so if you see him on his bike, skip through the handi-cam DaVinci Code knockoffs straight to the real shit. 5 beans American.

By the way, Noixe isn't dead, he's just sleeping.