Gonzo Marketing:Winning Through Worst Practices The Bombast Transcripts: Rants and Screeds of RageBoy
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Saturday, July 13, 2002
Bright Pink Metal Jellybeans
Must be a meme of some kind. It's going around.

11:25 PM | link |

Friday, July 12, 2002
RageBoy Speaks
RageBoy RB leaves late-nite voicemail for Gary Turner. Ricky don't lose that number. Hear one of the World's Top-50 Business Thinkers say "fuck" a lot, propose a massive panty raid on Blog Sisters (to be fair, an idea first conceived by Halley and Jeneane), and explain how blogging is the necessary and inevitable precursor to Systemic Ass-Yodeling & Wide-Area Telephony (SAY-WAT). Rare mutant RageBoy image appears at right courtesy AP Wirephoto archives.

12:48 AM | link |

Wednesday, July 10, 2002
The RB Collage Thing
Gary Turner writes: "RB could do with some lovin' TODAY." Well you got that fuckin-A right, mate. Respect all around. (Void in mental states condoning moral and/or aesthetic behavior modification).

10:28 PM | link |

Stavros The Wonderchicken
"If you dream of talking to a sorcerer, it means you are too boisterous."
Zolar's Encyclopedia and Dictionary of Dreams

10:06 PM | link |

Monday, July 08, 2002
Fade Away Anyway
In Gonzo Marketing, I wrote: "Who is creating such stories today? Whose voices will draw new listeners the way Druids drew down the moon, the way Greeks drew a wooden horse to the gates of Troy? Tell me, O muse, of those ingenious heroes. Sing to me, goddess, of anger and estrangement. I�m a motherfucker, baby, your mind my sky, your eyes my fire. This world, this life so intricate, delicate, complex. Precious beyond measure. I�m slamming my head against the walls of empire, the habits of power, enraged. Blasting and burning for your love. Imagining the network finally connected. Imagining joy. A wall of horns and drums and dangerous magical noise. I�m bending over my Fender, working the circuits, incendiary, incandescent. Rocking in the free world, serving notice on Babylon. Ain�t in for a dollar, ain�t in for a dime. Ain�t going down for no two-bit dream. Armed only with imagination, I�m back in your spiral arms tonight. Everything has at least two meanings. But one thing girl that I want to say, love is love and not fade away."

From: Laurie Doctor [laurie@lauriedoctor.com]
Sent: Thursday, June 06, 2002
To: clocke@panix.com
Subject: Re: correct address


We are not on the same page, even in the same book. Contrary to your ideas, it is your behavior that makes me not want to be with you. This is not something I want to pursue. I don't want you to write or call. I am not planning to see you again.


1:57 AM | link |

Starry Summer Night
Halley and Jeneane have been keeping me alive. Tag-team phone calls to tell me I'm OK, wonderful, healing. I say no I'm not, but they get me yelling and laughing. I've never had such good friends.

One day last week, Jeneane wrote about her four-year-old daughter Jenna...

"She's dancing now, in the cool new dress-up shoes courtesy of Big Lots, a deal at $4.99. They're all sparkly and plastic, three pairs in their own little cardboard dresser, fancy and loud, bows and flowers. She's off to her room to check herself out in the mirror her grandma bought for her. She walks with airs, clunkiness aside, eyes saying: Ain't I Something?"

Yesterday, Halley posted a piece called "Take The Bus To Summer Camp." A clip...

"...don't you know that this expansive love and freedom we can afford our children -- those blessed beings who are bursting forth in every direction (height, weight, passion, knowledge) -- this grace to grow we give them freely is for the most part rescinded from adults."

This reminded me of something I wrote in Gonzo Marketing...

"Something animated and vital looks out from our children's eyes. Whatever it is, we recognize it and know it is precious. Yet except in rare cases today, that spirit is broken early and irreparably. The light goes out all too soon. We know, because at some inarticulate and dimly conscious level, we are those children. We feel the wind of spirit move us at odd moments, but put it down to nostalgia or temporary possession by some impractical flight of fancy. We shake it off and get back to work. Robbed of a voice to speak of these things, something animated and vital looks out from our own eyes, but only in rare, unguarded moments - and even then, wary, circumspect, suspicious. We let no one see what we fear no one will understand."

Halley, I hope you'll call me in the morning...


1:05 AM | link |

"RageBoy: Giving being fucking nuts a good name since 1985."
~D. Weinberger
28 October 2004

Chris Locke's photos More of Chris Locke's photos

Until a minute ago, I had no photos. I still have no photos to speak of. I don't even have a camera. But all these people were linking to "my photos." It was embarassing. It's still embarassing. But I'm used to that.

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The Bombast Transcripts

Gonzo Marketing

The Cluetrain Manifesto

trust the man with the star

...the ventriloquial voice is both an attempt to imagine and pit the the speech of the body against the speech of culture, and an attempt to control that illegitimate speech, to draw it into discourse...

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