AxeMan enters MRI; develops x-ray vision

AxeMan’s physician, after a routine
checkup, suggests he get an MRI.8-ball-ergo.jpg It’s covered by Medicare so he
figures, why not? Inside the black
hole, his claustrophobia is
overwhelming. He imagines writing on the wall. Cogito Ergo Sum? I think, therefore I am?  What the hell is that all about?

Never much of  a philosopher, AxeMan is confused when the procedure ends. But, when  he reads a piece in the NY Times Sunday Review section (formerly called  Opinion) he has second thoughts. The story (which is actually called an opinion) is about aging and exercise. The writer seems to suggest that overdoing athletics produces an overly uncivilized character, and perhaps a less literarily dumpy fellow. Since AxeMan has neither aim in life, he is not overly moved. Still,  he does have his pretensions. And he is grateful that His Creator has deemed fit to provide him with this wacky new x-ray vision. He will embrace his expanded role as The Knight of the Living Dread; Behind the 8-ball. (to be continued)

Knight Vision

Putting logic aside; Descartes before de horse.
Do things in their proper order – if you put the cart in front of the horse, you won’t get anywhere. Descartes used circular logic to explain things (like God and the evil genius). The arguments that establish the trustworthiness of reason (the Cogito Argument) themselves seem to depend on the trustworthiness of reason.knight-of-living-dread.jpg
So AxeMan knows about the derivation of Cogito Ergo Sum, but his search leads him elsewhere. Because the effing NY Times won’t allow him to apply the link he has posted about Plato, he beat the dead horse and turned up another Descartesian bon mot.

AxeMan discovers Descartes philosopy of dualismDualism! How better to consider his faux doppleganger,
his split personality now trebled; yet another Holy Trinity. The Creator, lurking in the background, AxeMan hisself (as George Herriman might have  said), and now,
The Knight of the Living Dread. The dark warrior whose special vision will haunt him, sensitize him to the potential threats of all matter entering his body. He doesn’t recall asking for this inhuman potential. Better to be able to see through walls than to see the walls of his organs as they threaten to deteriorate.

AxeMan clotheslined by the Clear Line

AxeMan, on assignment in Paris, monitoring the presidential elections for Crooked Line Journal, ventured into several Librairies de la Bande Dessinee (Comic book stores, in plain English). Just a wink or a nod was all he had hoped for, but he received nothing.

Unnoticed, he sunk into a minor depression. Could it be because he is American?straight-line.jpg

Double indemnity? In the home of the Clear Line he understands that he will never be recognized. Not in France, and probably not in the U.S. Either.
So, while awaiting the election results, in search of the familiar, he looks for a jazz club he knew from a previous journey.
7 Lezards was one of the great venues; a tiny, smoky basement in the Marais. He finds the address but no sign of the club. Damaged posters say the buiding has been designated for social housing.

7-lezards.jpgHow bizarre, he thinks. Still, the working poor should be able to live in the city where they clean the streets and provide many of the basic amenities for Parisians. For the rest of yet another rainy day he will await the election results.

Missing Sarkozy?

Who is this jerk?
Ecstatic that the 17-year drought
was over, AxeMan headed out to
join the celebrants. The streets funneling the minions toward the Bastille were much quieter thanaxemans-void-PP2.jpghe expected until the drivers
(AxeMan thought they all
rode shared velibes these days) announced their arrival from
les banlieus, horns a-blazing.
The next morning he read the
NY Times on line. An Op-ed
piece by someone with the bizarre name of Rosecrans Baldwin
suggested that France would miss
him (not Rosecrans but Sarko).
Could that be an alter-ego for a real person, or did someone really name him that? AxeMan knew several
actual French men and women who cast their votes not AGAINST Sarko but for a man who had stuck to his values. “He [Sarko] loved America, unabashedly, and Elvis, and wasn’t ashamed to say so,” chirped Rosecrans. AxeMan went to Mr. Google to see what was required to renounce his own citizenship, just in case Mutt Romney was able to buy the presidency back home.  What he discovered was that one of the founders of Facebook, Eduardo Saverin, had done just that, pledging his new allegiance to Singapore where the tax structure is more favorable to folks like himself. Boy, if Sarko could get his Mitts on THAT kid! Further research told him that the task would be nigh impossible for a rather poor alter-ego like himself who really had little to contribute to the French in the way of money or anything else, although he did consider the possibility of getting one of those nifty green outfits and cleaning up the poop that the Parisians don’t hold their noses for.


How much change can one axe handle?

AxeMan; home from Paris, has a hard landing. He feels like he has been dropped into Dante’s 9th Circle of Hell, muchchangedotargh.jpg of which is illustrated on the arms, legs, thighs, upper and lower backs (as well as areas he is gratefully not privy to) of the hordes parading the streets of the neighbor-hood in Brooklyn where Euro-twang is the most recognizable lingua franca, the argot, and where he has been spending an increasing amount of time over the past several years. That circle starts and ends at the new Ground Zero, Union Square, scant minutes and three metro stops away. By August of 2001 Union Square was, if never sleepy, still manageable. True, there had been significant change in the twenty-four years that AxeMan had travailed (with a birds-eye view) in an office twenty floors above the legendary six square blocks where a great deal of New York history had been written. In that building, as in much of lower Manhattan, afflicted men of one variety or another carried large portfolios containing photographs, magazine layouts, architectural drawings and other oversized data in and out, up and down elevators, across the still maneuverable streets. They had their own argot, portions of which they recited as they ‘patiently’ waited elevators to move and/or for lights to change. They D-I-D N-O-T jaywalk, a practice that could easily have wiped them out, but they were dissappeared anyway by the predecessor to FedEx; bicycle messengers. These cyclists, ougtrageously costumed as Tour de France racers, were, more often than not, African American, and they were like piece workers, hustling like mad just to make a buck. Surely there are recorded accidents of the cyclo-messengers and the pedestrian messengers who probably never knew who or what hit them. More interestingly, to AxeMan, the two-wheeled maniacs made for an extraordinary collision between themselves and the newly minted hip-motic student culture generated by the lofty dream of N$Y$U, Cooper Union, Parsons and the New School for Social Research. Hip-hop, Double Dutch, break dancing and Afrika Bambaataa. Hip-hop, the name, was said to have been first used in print in The Village Voice, another downtown denizen directly across the street from AxeMan’s center of operations. Change had been incremental, but by September 11, 2001 all the players were in place for the seismic downtown shift. under-the-towers2.jpg
AxeMan’s creator, less than two hours after the second building crumpled in dust, came to read Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish to a congreation of near zero. All that was missing was the TV cameras. It took them two whole days to find this new locus of public grief, but when they touched down, mobile units all over, Union Square raised itself from the dead. A new ground zero, a cultural mashup, had emerged. union square day2. Transformation continues.He became increasingly isolated in a corner that he had always thought represented some special place in his own cultural development. Change that he had embraced for more than thirty years was at the brink of altering his perceptions. and their endless petitions, almost all of them worthy, were creating an overload for his hardening head. The election of Barack Obama in 2008 had given him a sense of the possibility of Hope, but Change as he saw it was a somewhat more complicated game. Another extension of the Ninth Circle of Hell (more to come). If the creator has a master plan, WTF is it?

Just another day @ the NY Times

The Creator claims to hate the NY Times, yet he reads it daily. If he did not, AxeMan might go hungry. Call The Creator a hypocrite; AxeMan just goes where he’s told.
So, this weekend, The Creator sent him to Citi Field,
the home of the NY Mets, where ultra orthodox Jews
rallied against the internet
Talk about flailing against vindmills. Most of the attendees had cell phones and were browsing for messages as soon as they got off the F train payots.jpg(perhaps the only subway line to service the ball park). Axeman went in mufti (civvies), but first he went to the internet to research just how he should wear his payot. So many choices. So many ultras, (over 40,000) they had to rent the tennis stadium next door in case of an overflow crowd. Or maybe that’s where the vimmen  would sit, since they can’t be amongst the men. But the main gate was as far as he got. “You are not one of us,” said a burly gentleman (his payots were showing, long and spindly) accompanied by several little boys with big, black cowboy hats. So AxeMan had to read all about it in the Monday NY Times. He was sad. Sounded like a great game. Singing, praying, chanting; Down mit der net – down hit der net. Well that’s what it sounded like outside the stadium. On Monday he read the sports section to see if the internet had won or lost. Nothing there. But, Wow! The front section. Up there with the big boys. Seemed like it might have been a tie. Lotsa fellas couldn’t run their businesses without it. Not exactly a surprise. So he skimmed the rest of section A until he found something quite disturbing. An advertisement on the OP-ED page. The Catholic church was calling for some kind of poke in the nose of Jon Stewart who had said, “Maybe women could protect their reproductive organs from unwanted medical intrusions with vagina-manger.jpgvagina mangers.” AxeMan, presuming Stewart’s religious persuasion (he talks about it incessantly) wondered if Stewart might actually have been at the rally, just to protect his own interests, or maybe to hire the burly guy to protect him from The Catholics. Not such a leap. Inquisitions? Crusades? Sexual abuse of children? Moral authority? Chapter and verse!