Well, dear readers, I am in a state of flux. Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I, bk, am in a state of flux. And here I thought I was in a state of California. I do not like being in a state of flux? I say a pox on those who cause people to be in a state of flux. Yes, I am decreeing a pox flux on those noxious few who cause flux to the peoples of the world, which, of course, would include me, who is, by the way, in a state of flux. I am also in a state of high dudgeon, whatever the hell that is. These are not states I would advise anyone to visit. Perhaps if I ate some lox I would not feel I was in a state of flux. Maybe I’ll eat some lox, then decree a pox upon those who cause the flux. Or, perhaps I’ll enclose those who cause flux in a box and inside the box I’ll put the lox and the pox. Or, better yet, perhaps I’ll just drop an ox on the box, thereby smashing the box, lox and pox along with the the state of flux. Perhaps I should just enter detox, because perhaps I am crazy. Yes, crazy like a fox, who is in a state of flux. Next thing you know I’ll be babbling on about the chalice from the palace and the pellet with the poison and the vessel with the pestle and the brew that is true. Or is it the flagon with the dragon?
Oh, boy, am I going to get bitch-slapped by Mr. Mark Bakalor, or what? This is supposed to be the tease, and here I have written a novella entitled The State of Flux. Oh, it is all so unseemly, that I think the only thing one can do is to click on the Unseemly Button below and move on to greener pastures.
Welcome to Greener Pastures, which is far away from the state of flux. Well, let’s talk about something interesting. For example, Donald Feltham has a lovely show planned for next Monday – in Donald’s own words it’s “‘New York Now’ as we work our way from South to North playing songs from what’s currently playing on and off Broadway”. That sounds great, doesn’t it? Songs from all the currently playing shows in New York. How current we are, how cutting edge, how on top of it, how of the moment we are. This site, unlike me, is not in a state of flux.
We are also going to be adding a very strange feature, but one we hope you’ll use. This was Mr. Mark Bakalor’s idea and I think it a fine one. It is called the Unseemly Donation Button. As you know, it’s not cheap to run a site like this, what with the radio show, plus we want to add some more new and exciting features and make this the most fun site on the internet (sure, we’re being grandiose, but we can dream, can’t we?). How this works is this: If you like visiting here, if you’re having fun, and love the radio show, simply click on the Unseemly Donation Button and you can donate anything you like to keep this site totally cooliscious and swelegant. For example, if you can afford one dollar, donate one dollar. If you can’t, don’t, but keep enjoying the site anyway. If you are rich and powerful, donate hundreds, thousands of dollars and Mark and I will personally come to your home and bring cheese slices and ham chunks and we will dance the hora the whole night through. Isn’t that a neat idea? Many free sites are doing it these days, and we’re always one to jump on a bandwagon. It’s very simple, too. You just click on the button and voila (or vwala) you are whisked away to a magic donation land and from there it’s even simpler. Mr. Bakalor tells me that the Unseemly Button will be up by week’s end, so watch for it and, if you’re of a mind to, use it. You will have our unending gratitude.
That was a rather shameless paragraph, wasn’t it? But if we can’t be shameless, then what? We must, every now and then, be shameless or we will be in a state of flux, shameless-wise. What else can I tell you? Well, we didn’t have nearly enough Unseemly Comments yesterday. As my close personal friend, Mr. Oliver Twist, would say, “I want more”. I shall personally respond to each and every Unseemly Comment, how is that? Yes, you heard it here, dear readers, I will respond to each and every one of your Unseemly Comments.
When I was doing a column on another unseemly website (if other unseemly websites are reading along – we’re not talking about you), over at
www.sondheim.com , I used to have a trivia contest every week. What if, in order to boost traffic on the weekends, we started our very own brand spanking new handy-dandy contest right here at haineshisway.com? What do you think of that idea? We could pose the very difficult question on Saturday morning, and accept answers all the way up to midnight on Sunday. The winnner (or winners) would be announced on Monday morning and the winner (or winners) would win a special prize chosen by Mr. Guy Haines himself. Post your opinions about such a contest in the Unseemly Comment Box below.
Has anyone noticed that as the days go by these notes are more and more having a propensity to verbosity? That sounds like a Gilbert and Sullivan song, doesn’t it?
I am the very model of a logical monstrosity
Who has a small propensity to wax with large verbosity.
Have you ever waxed with large verbosity? It is very painful, but waxing with anything is very painful, although I’m only supposing that since I have never actually waxed. Oh, I’ve waxed the floor, and I’ve waxed nostalgic, but I’ve never waxed my actual person. What the hell am I talking about? Wax, flux, lox, pox, box, ox… What is this propensity to verbosity only using words which end in “x”. Perhaps we should just rename these notes, The “X” Files. Perhaps we should have a What If? If you don’t know what a What If is, in other words if you’re a new visitor to the state of flux, just go to the Unseemly Search Box and type in “What if”. So, what if Stephen Sondheim had written The Life? And it goes something like this (to the tune of Into The Woods):
Into the whores,
We have to pay,
Cause that’s the only
Way they play.
Into the whores
Without delay
I’ve got a hundred dollars!
Into the whores,
They offer sex;
But just for cash
No cards or checks!
They’ll sleep with scum
Or with execs
That’s how they earn their living.
They’ll do it straight,
Or kinky, too.
They’ll say you’re great
Though it’s not true.
They’ll do it in chains
If chains are your thing.
They’ll dress up like a sheep, dear,
But costumes don’t come cheap, dear
Into the whores,
On beds or rugs;
They don’t have time
To give you hugs.
They’ve got to run
And go buy drugs
To keep their boyfriends happy.
Into the whores,
You pay your bucks;
For large amounts
You get “deluxe”.
After a while
The Life just sucks…
They pay the pimp,
They do the dirty
They flaunt
They flirt
They touch
They do
They smile
They moan
They tell you you’re fabulous…
Into the whores,
Into the whores,
Into the whores,
Then out of the whores
And home to your wife.
Well, I must go and try to leave the state of flux. Perhaps if I rent a tux I won’t be in flux. Tomorrow I will reveal who has a birthday coming very soon. Until then, I am, as I always was, and ever shall be…