So now I know why I never heard back from Gmail. Hotmail might have simply blocked my email invitation, if I ever got one at all, which is also possible but not likely–and this is a run-on sentence.

It looks like Sven is going to produce the next Pet Shop Boys album, which will be called Panzerkreuzer Potemkin. It’s supposed to be a pop album, but apparently also a concept album. I’m not making this up.

I know this because he called me today from London to ask me to translate a music business word needed to negotiate his contract. That’s right, kids. David Seezen — Rock n’ Roll English Consultant. I think I’ll have that printed on my business cards.

Update: July 3rd
Since I noticed this entry being linked to several fansites, I thought I might elaborate a bit more.
Sven Helbig co-founded the Dresdner Sinfoniker and produced the Torsten Rasch/Rammstein project Mein Herz Brennt last year. He also did some orchestral arrangements on a recent Rammstein album.
I’ve known Sven several years; he was one of my teachers at the conservatory in Dresden, and since then I have helped him out occasionally with business correspondence-type letters and the like.
Sven is a workaholic as well as a fantastic drummer.

BRN Conclusion

With chronic sprinkles and cool, bleak weather, this BRN was more like DRN: Drab Republik Neustadt.

And what with all of my tentative BRN gigs dissolving at the last minute, I found myself playing more the part of spectator than participant. This was OK, because there was lots to see and hear and buy. Lots of bands playing… up on stage… instead of my band… dammit.

The good news is that, according to the shopkeepers whom I surveyed, there were no riots or mass arrests like two years ago, or even last year. I would attribute this to three factors. First, would be that it was Mother Nature’s time of the month (pardon the off-color expression). Secondly, and for the second year, the ban on glass beer bottles. Thirdly, the fuzz made itself even less noticable than before. Oh yeah, they were there; we won’t know exactly how many there were until they say so in tomorrow’s SZ.

Celebrity sighting: Remember that young guy, Schreiber from the CDU? You know, the one with the gangsta grip thumbs up? I saw him and tried to get a picture of him doing that gesture, but he was busy.

Panama was, as always, an oasis to escape the rush of the mob. I went there yesterday, and greeted those rectangular-eyed goats with my “mne-e-e-e-e”, which I had once learned by observing them at great length. The goats suddenly fell deadly silent and looked at me. I tried to walk away unnoticed, but they followed me with their gazes. Then all Hell broke loose as they proceded to butt the crap out of each other. The sheep have been conspicuously abscent for some time, but just next by you can visit the rabbit hutch where Little Wee was born. You can still visit her mom and dad; some siblings and nephews and nieces are also to be seen.

Forty Whacks
If you think you can smile
Before the verdict at your trial
You might make enemies.
Enemies waiting in line
For the payment of your fine
Against their tragedies.

On this day in 1893 Lizzie Borden was aquitted for the dual muder of her father and step-mother. This was the first murder stateside that ever attained national press coverage, as callous as that sounds. While circumstantial evidence stood overwhelmingly in favor of conviction, prosecution was unable to provide a shred of hard, irrefutable evidence of her guilt. Aside from that, she wasn’t black.

While most believe that Lizzie got away with the Perfect Crime, I disagree. Even though she beat the rap and moved into a multi-storey mansion, she lived out the rest of her life a reclusive Pariah–prison, occupation: one. And what red-blooded American kid doesn’t know the following rhyme (except me, apparently):

Lizzie Borden took an ax
Gave her mother forty whacks;
When she saw what she had done
She gave her father forty-one!

The Pump Don’t Work (’cause the vandals took the handle)

Oh boy oh boy. It’s BRN time once again. Too bad I have to work in the morning.

Here is the Fox News review of Moore’s new film. Check it out, for you’ll surely be either surprised or relieved.

Marrakech to Close — if permanent still uncertain.

The musicbar Marrakech, located on Rothenburger Strasse and across from Capito, will close its doors after tonight’s last hurrah.
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Nickelbag of the same-ole same-ole. Stereo split of two completely different songs that sound awfully similar.

This is almost as amusing as watching the Dark Side of the Moon while listening to the Wizard of Oz.

Oh Lighten Up, Lasagna Breath

The Garfield ™ generator linked below has been apparently shut down.
Dig:
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This Sunday in Lisbon — responding to to the England v. France game– the fuzz’s message to would-be English hooligans:
it’s safe to toke up. Drunks, however, may be denied entry to the stadium.

Also:

Rember, guys, how I asked you about the other meaning of the word “compromise”?

"I hate to say this, but I quite frankly felt that these officers had compromised their position. I remember thinking, ?I cannot believe we are standing underneath a tree and we cannot see if this guy has a weapon pointed at us.? "

So there. See? I don’t always just make stuff up. That was from a story about cops tasering a treed burglary suspect. His accomplice claimed that:
"He inherited the property from his grandfather, the "famous investor, Merrill Lynch."
He said he and [the tasered guy] were there to dig up gold and silver buried by his grandfather.
Detectives noted, however, that Merrill Lynch isn?t a person. Instead, it is an investment firm formed in 1915 by Charles Merrill and Edmund Lynch.

And to think I probably would have fallen for that line…

Some more photos online. Not really relevant to this Blog, so I put them here.