Showing posts with label HFU. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HFU. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Radio Paranoia's Best & Worst of 2011

"...anybody can do one of these lists. There's no objective standard as to what the 10 best are." --NPR's wimpy way of saying top 10 lists suck.

"Top Ten Lists Suck. A Lot."
--Michael Hodson, Go, See, Write



by Guise Faux
Illustrations by Dea Fauxnette

We already knew we sucked and we're ruining pirate radio. That was our driving force throughout 2011. Just ask Commander Bunny.

But when National Public Radio told us at the end of December, just as we were drafting our Top Ten list for 2011, that our Top Ten list for 2011 already sucked even before we'd published the damned thing, well... it just gave us the excuse we needed to take a few weeks off. After all, if you can't do a thing well, do it late.

Pheme Ossa took an indefinite leave of absence to work the Ron Paul campaign. We suspect she's doing it ironically, especially since she's wearing her Goldwater '64 campaign t-shirt. Last I looked, I spotted at least three of her sockpuppets on the comments sections on the Ron Paul and Alex Jones sites. She claims it's necessary to defend against the NSA and Mosaad sockpuppets. And I thought I was paranoid.

To cover the Consumer Electronics Show, Brown Nose the Pirate requisitioned an El Dorado convertible and a pint of raw ether "for the Caddy's carburetor". On Friday the 13th he Tweeted: "You know what's great about CES? No, seriously, do you? Because I can't remember a thing."

Last we heard from him was a voice message late Saturday night: "Turn it up!" he screamed. "Just as high as the fucker can go! And when it comes to that fantastic bit where the rabbit bites its own head off, I want you to throw that fuckin' radio into the tub with me!"

We hope he has a good attorney. We also hope Vegas hotels all have GFCI's in the bathrooms.

Before we headed off for Umbrage Island for a sanity break, Dea whipped out the "obey" poster for Commander Bunny in the now-classic Shepard Fairey Roddy Piper style. And if you don't grok the original reference (nope, not Obama, although he clearly is a reptilian), then you've never been forced to kick ass because of an unexpected shortage of bubblegum.

Now that we're back and caught up on comments since the December 25th blog, we surmise that you bastards really love gossip, rumors and scandals. And we love our readers for that.

Rather than a Top Ten list - mostly because we can't think of 10 really significant events from 2011 that are relevant to pirate radio - we're going with a Best & Worst list. In the end, most events were both the best and the worst of 2011.

#1 Best & Worst of allll tiiime!
Was there any doubt? The manic meltdown of WBNY's Commander Bunny dominated the North American shortwave pirate scene throughout 2011. To steal a phrase from the late, lamented Passport to World Band Radio, nothing has provided hour after hour of amusement like the Bunnyman's 2011 antics. Commander Coney & His Lost Planet Sockpuppets earn the Tales of Radio Paranoia top spot for being, simultaneously, the best and worst of 2011.

Rampant sockpuppetry. Forgetting which alias said what to whom, followed by frantic revisions on the FRN. Lying about perceived enemies. Fantasizing about pedophiles under every Canadian woodpile like he'd barely escaped the clutches of some bizarre fantasy cult. Manic blurt-blogging with increasingly frantic incoherence (at one point hitting a record high four paranoid blog posts in a single day). Misogynistic cyber-stalking. Harassing and repeatedly dropping dox on "enemy" ops and listeners alike.

Throughout 2011, it wasn't a question of what the Lagomurph would do next; it was what wouldn't he do next? Whether under his two best known pirate radio pseudonyms or his best known "real" name, he left no stone unturned and no bridge unburned in his desperate pursuit of enemies, real or imagined.

***

Worst of the Worst - Tales of Radio Paranoia
...for noticing #1, and blogging about it.

***

Worst Waste of Tax Dollars - FCC targets HF pirates again
Confirmed knocks and/or written or oral warnings included WEAK and The Crystal Ship. That follows on the heels of at least three warnings in 2010 (one confirmed by the station operator, two unconfirmed).

Actual impact on shortwave pirate radio activity? Hard to estimate. Available data is biased, although not necessarily deliberately. The traditional bastions for North American pirate radio logs - the FRN and Free Radio Weekly e-mail newsletter - tend to be dominated by ops and listeners from a smallish geographic region. If you stick a compass on the southwest corner of Pennsylvania and draw a 500 mile diameter circle, you've probably encompassed 85% of the pirate stations and listener logs reflected in the FRN and FRW. But does that mean 85% of all N. American ops are within that circle? Don't bet on it.

Reference: DIYmedia: Anti-Pirate Enforcement Plummets in 2011

***

Worst Toadying to Media Tyrants - Anti-Pirate Legislation
Nope, not anti-pirate radio. But the misguided, corporate-schlong-sucking SOPA/PIPA legislation (temporarily allayed last week) threatened to be even more menacing than anything the FCC might cook up. Because media megaliths have the lawyers and clout to arm-twist the courts into actually prosecuting and penalizing people for pirated media-ware.

SOPA/PIPA and related efforts may rank even higher than renewed FCC enforcement because it potentially affects not only broadcasters but programmers, bloggers and anyone actively involved in free radio. So far FCC penalties are a pittance compared with the potential fines for pirating intellectual property - music, movies, etc.

Relevant references:
Positions of US Representatives (SOPA) and Senators (PIPA):
Senate: PROTECT IP Act (PIPA)
House: Stop Online Piracy Act (SOPA)

Oh Internet: The Death of Megaupload, The Beginning of Web 3.0
"Frightening is the fact that Megaupload was hosted in Hong Kong- how did the US government manage to black out a site based in the other side of the planet? Perhaps even more frightening is that the take-down was performed without the help of the SOPA or PIPA bills written specifically for this purpose. It seems that the United States government already has the tools to impose its will upon foreign websites."

Salon.com: Two lessons from the Megaupload seizure
"Less than 24 hours after the SOPA victory, the Government seizes one of the world's largest websites with no trial"
Dimnet Tries To Be A Hedge Against DNS Censorship
Slate: Stop SOPA/PIPA
Motherboard: Dear Congress - It's Not OK to Be Stupid About the Internet
Motherboard: Break in Case of Censorship

Also see stories linked to: “Firefox Add-On Bypasses SOPA DNS Blocking”.

***

Best & Worst Cruise on de Nile - The FRN Capsizes, Travels Backward in Time.

And nothing of value was lost.

The Free Radio Network, with online roots dating back to the pre-web BBS era, missed opportunities to relaunch and reinvent itself at critical times during 2011. Numerous outages throughout the year could have been taken advantage of to rebuild the venerable site on a more robust platform and more stable servers. Instead the site followed Pat Murphy's lead in snatching defeat from the jaws of victory. Opportunities were squandered and longtime participants were alienated as Murphy seldom missed a chance to underscore perceptions that the FRN had become little more than his personal vanity site and a roost for the two dominant cliques.

Those perceptions were reinforced in December 2011 when the FRN faithful relocated to Free Radio North America on Google Groups. A quick peek at the group stats told the tale: early membership was mostly the Bowling League, Pat Murphy and a few veteran listeners who'd managed to remain neutral throughout the previous years of nearly continuous bunny-driven drama.

"They've actually sent the FRN further back in time. I honestly had no idea that was possible," quipped a waggish veteran of the US shortwave pirate scene, on the FRN cabal's abandoning ship for the Uselessnet reefs.


Google Groups, for those who haven't visited, is little more than tarted up usenet, one of the oldest and lamest incarnations of the interbutt. Throughout the previous decade uselessnet degenerated from merely a pile of fresh shit that was usually burning due to continuous flame wars, to fossilized dinosaur scat. No topical subdivisions within a group. No way to attach images, let alone the multi-media goodies available with newer implementation of phpBB like the Free Radio Cafe.


Dr. Who-Me? invites you and your socks to board the Fucktardis
for a journey back in time to the ass end of the interbutt.


Usenet manages to be even less secure than the FRN in terms of member privacy, although the Free Radio North America group does seem to manage to mask member IPs. That, at least, is a small improvement over most radio related uselessnet groups. But member e-mails are easily visible (click on the highlighted ellipses, or three dots in the partially masked e-mail addresses). And if those members are using the same nicks or e-mails they've used elsewhere on uselessnet, chances are their IPs have been recorded in the headers on rec.radio.whatever.

If you subscribe to the theory of Environmental Determinism, you know where this is heading. If it looks like uselessnet, farts like uselessnet and talks like uselessnet, eventually it'll degenerate into just another uselessnet pile of poop. For a peek at the fun times ahead, just Google the hilariously rabid-rabbit frothing from Murphy's various aliases back around 2006 - particularly "Bouncer" (bobsmith6955@yahoo.com) from Newport News, VA.

With a little luck, the FRN might be able to offer a work-release parole deal for Italian cruise ship captain Francesco Schettino. Reportedly he's now negotiating for the role of Quint in a remake of Jaws.

How did the FRN become a salvage case? The short version:
  • Failure to upgrade to a more reliable, contemporary platform.
  • Slowpoke servers.
  • Annual outage as domain registration lapsed.
  • Rampant, abusive sockpuppetry by former admin Pat Murphy.
  • Murphy's repeated misuse of access to personal information to harass perceived enemies.
  • Murphy's censorship of unapproved logs.
Meanwhile the HF Underground has offered a genuine sanctuary for free and generally friendly loggings and exchanges of information and opinion since 2008, on a more contemporary and stable platform with reliable servers. Ironically, the single notable flame war on the HFU, a couple of years ago, turned out to have been instigated by Murphy under one of his many sockpuppets.

And John Poet of The Crystal Ship stepped up the game by launching the Free Radio Cafe in the spring of 2011, offering an even more advanced phpBB platform that accommodates Flash videos and larger file sizes for direct uploads of graphics such as SSTV and QSLs. If there's been any rivalry at all between the HFU and FRC, it's been of only the friendliest sort. And Poet launched with a written commitment to respect member privacy, ops and listeners alike - something Murphy repeatedly demonstrated he would never actually do, regardless of his claims on the FRN.

While Cosmikdebris, on the Free Radio North America Google group's "What is this and should we care?" introductory statement seemed to extend an olive branch, he didn't make a convincing case for any real reconciliation. In fact, an objective, detached reader might be tempted to ask why any reconciliation would even be desirable, let alone necessary?

But we're not detached. Unless a detached brainstem counts.

At the risk of seeming to nitpick his good intentions, statements such as
"It's become increasingly evident to me that there are distinct disadvantages associated with the message board mode of operation for a community like shortwave free radio."
and

"Some people need to have their own board and their own hugbox. I don't have any problem with this. The three message boards have all been to various extents poisoned by the actions of one or more of their members or admins."

indicate there's little common ground. It would require quite a stretch to compare the occasional snarky remarks on the HFU and FRC with the years of abusive tirades and slanders perpetrated by Commander Coney & His Lost Planet Sockpuppets, as well as by the perpetual presidential wannabe's thuggish veep candidate.

So when Cos sez

"...I would love to see some kind of magic software be created that actually linked up the loggings sections of each of these three boards..."

it begs the question "Why?" The web is huge and diverse. For every hobby there are many completely independent and unaffiliated websites and blogs. There are plenty of good networking options for those who want them. But there's usually a very good reason why most participants on hobbyist and niche websites and forums prefer one over another, and may not want to be associated in any way with other sites despite sharing common interests. Murphy demonstrated that by trying to fuck up the HFU with his "RF Burnz" and "lovemyradios" sockmonsters. Same way he alienated virtually the entire European pirate scene.

Fact is, some twains don't need to meet. Rivers run just fine without having to hold hands or cooperate.

***

Worst Diagnosis - Damn You, Xenu!
The DSM eliminated Narcissistic Personality Disorder:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/30/health/views/30mind.html

Crap. There goes another perfectly useful disorder. Maybe L Ron Hubbard was right about psychiatrists.

***

Best Goodfella News - Ragnar Bounces Back
Downside: In 2011 Ragnar put the popular Pirates Week podcast on hiatus while he recovered from carp 'n' grumble syndrome. I have long personal experience with that malady and sympathize completely.

Upside: In December 2011 Ragnar announced the launch of his new show, spotlighting classic pirate radio. So far I've listened to the first two Hall of Fame Spotlights. While I enjoyed hearing those classic shows, I'd like to hear more of Ragnar's narrative, perhaps some documentary style commentary to put the era into context. If he has time, editing some historical narrative into the existing HOF Spotlight shows would make 'em even better. He has a knack for it, a cheerful, friendly voice and an admirable ability to navigate the treacherous pirate waters and tempestuous personalities. In other words, the antithesis of Tales of Radio Paranoia.

***

Worst Use of Radio
How important is radio? Important enough even the well financed drug cartels use radio.
"Mexico drug cartel Zetas have their own radio system"

Meanwhile, the murders and mutilations of Mexican journalists and bloggers at the hands of drug cartels should serve as a reminder that internet "anonymity" is not as safe as some may believe. This reinforces the concept of compact low power radio as a tool for regional communication in waging news, views and propaganda wars. In other words, true clandestine radio, not the entertainment oriented pirate radio we can afford to indulge ourselves in throughout N. America... at least until the drug war crosses our borders.

Related NY Daily News story on drug cartels using radio.

***

Best Occupation of Free Radio?
Unfortunately I was unable to find any specific documentation or names to quote. But reportedly low power FM was used at some "Occupy" movement locations. Besides supporting non-violent anarchy, occupiers also helped contribute to the reminder that radio remains an essential tool of free speech. Whatever your thoughts about the Occupy movement - especially some of the wannabe hippie goofiness and disjointedness - it was a good thing if only because it provided an excellent example of exercising the First Amendment "right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances."

Update 1/26/12 - found a few references for LPFM at "Occupy" events:
Occupy Fayetteville Facebook page
"Madison community groups find a voice in low-power FM radio"

***

Worst Best Move
WBCQ moved from 7415 to 7490, reportedly to avoid QRMing official comms on 7416. On the downside, WBCQ is barely audible now on 7490. On the upside, some pirates are making noises about reclaiming 7415, which has a legacy as a pirate freq predating WBCQ. I still have some old copies of Passport from that era.

***

Best Worst Prophecy
WYFR and Harold Camping, May 21 and October 21. The world didn't end - OR DID IT? 'nuff said. For reasons I cannot fathom, I just can't bring myself to a proper sense of ire over harmless old Brother Sominex. Besides, his Open Forum provided plenty of fodder for pirate spoofs.

Note: Jennifer Waits of Radio Survivor wrote the most balanced articles on this issue. Read 'em if you're actually interested in the WYFR saga.

Now, excuse me, excuse me, excuse me, thank you for calling and sharing, and shall we take our next call?

***

Worst Ruiner of Pirate Radio
Propagation. Or, rather, lack thereof. Once again, ManBearPig failed to produce sunspots. I'm super serial. And the year was riddled with Coronary Mess Ejaculations or "solar farts" as the phenomenon are known in the scientific community.

***

Best Retrospective on Curmudgeonly Radio Personality
Okay, it's actually a rerun of a Slate article from 2009. But it's damned good reading. Steely Dan co-founder Donald Fagen's excellent retrospective about radio legend Jean Shepherd resonates both humorously and poignantly now in context of a certain US shortwave pirate radio personality.

"Like a lot of fine-tuned performing artists, Shepherd increasingly exhibited the whole range of symptoms common to the aging diva. He became paranoid and resentful of imagined rivals..."
--Donald Fagen, for Slate
***

Best Creative Radio Paranoia
Just barely edging out Commander Bunny's WBNY "Three Ring Blogger Circus" production for 2011, Gabrielle Chana (aka Gail Chord Schuler), wants you to know that radio is being used to harass and destroy her, and the obscure objects of her desire: Brent Spiner, Hugh Jackman, Matthew McConaughy, Gerard Butler, Judge Terrance Jenkins and Vladimir Putin.

Be warned - the Jesuits have already destroyed Michael Jackson, Billy Mays and Princess Diana; possibly Kim Jong Il as well. (Note: Substitute "the gray aliens" or "the Communists" or "trust-fund bitches" for "the Jesuits" and you'll have a summary of her manifesto, as well as Commander Bunny's.)

***

Worst Omission - Who The Hell Do I Have To Piss Off To Make This List?
Finally, we are disappointed that neither Tales of Radio Paranoia nor WBNY's blog made Salon's 2011 hack blogger list. Alas, Katie Roiphe edged us out with a year-end blitz of boorish blarging. She even managed to surpass Commander Bunny in misogyny, if not in self-parody.

***

Okay, your turn. What's your Best/Worst or Top Ten list for 2011?

Monday, May 23, 2011

Crapture weekend

Crapture weekend seems to best describe May 20th-22nd, 2011, at least from the limited perspective of radio aficionados. Harold Camping's prediction for a May 21st rapture didn't match the timetable of El Señor. The HFU experienced down time and the FRN upped the ante with major fail. Apparently only their web servers were eligible for the Pearly Gates. And propagation still sucks. Once again we couldn't hear even the faintest trace of a carrier from WBNY's mighty Grenade or Corsair.

But first, our best wishes for a speedy recovery to those in the Joplin, Missouri area, which was devastated by a deadly tornado over the weekend. Joplin is where the server for the FRN is located, which probably explains why the site went down Sunday. We also hope FRN site owner John Cruzan is doing well.

Speaking of the Fabulous Rabbit Nuthugger's personal vanity site being down, we noticed that after a temporary outage in the HF Underpants site Saturday, the bunny mafia was so excited it/they/he couldn't decide which socks to wear for dancing on the HFU's grave. One of RP's sekrit squirrels inside the FRN spied a thread crowing about the HFU's outage that was first attributed to the Prime Minister, (probably a bit of carelessness in the heat of preparing some crow au gratin) which was deleted and replaced by the same post from Officious Pus Release, which was also deleted and finally replaced by Commander Bunny's post declaring "I SHUT DOWN THE HF UNDERPANTS!" "I SHAT MY OWN UNDERPANTS!" We're guessing the first two socks had too many holes for the bunnyman's Holy War against the Underpants Gnomes.

Only a rage comic can do justice to how the bunnyman must feel now that his personal cult site is as dysfunctional as the loopy fur between his floppy ears. But we all know rage comics always end the same way: FFFFFUUUU-


Fortunately, His Hareness still has his own hutch where he keeps fans updated with useful information.

El Señor Major, The Big Mister, The Great Ineffable One, has His own unearthly timetable - and it ain't UTC. So WYFR is back to reruns, with occasional sheepish sounding updates from an announcer (no word from Bro Camping as of Sunday). We at RP don't take much pleasure in pot shots at the Bro. We listen to his programs occasionally and for all the recent fuss, we find him to be somnolent at best and, at worst, no more guilty than many other prognosticators in sleuthing the sooth about the grand finale. (Note to self: Work in a Fin de siècle joke - that dream Saturday night about a shark riding a unicycle through the ocean must bode well for our destiny as the next Nostradamus.)

  1. Predict Furpocalypse
  2. ???
  3. Prophet!!!
'Til next we meet, brethren, this monkey's gone to heaven. And if Kim Deal is there to play and sing, it will be heavenly!

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Commander Bunny's true identity revealed!


"Murdered by pirates is good..."
--The Princess Bride

RP's sooper sekrit network of oh-noes-ninjas! infiltrated the Furry Rodent Nuthuggers and discovered the true identity of infamous shortwave pirate radio legend Commander Bunny.

Those who closely follow the U.S. shortwave pirate radio scene know the myxomatosis carrier is a legend in his own mind (and, to be fair, in troof), whose heritage gains another decade with each retelling. In the early 2000s he claimed to date back to the 1990s. By the mid-2000s he claimed WBNY was born and bred not in a briar patch but in the 1980s. By 2011 his lineage had scurried down a rabbit hole in the Tardis and pre-dated itself to the 1960s. While we fans of the bunnyman (yes, we are one, sarcastic bastards though RP may be) pondered the riddle of rabbit-time, a gift fell into our filthy beer-stained laps, in the form of a lulzy screencap.

Turns out behind that careworn furry mask Commander Bunny is none other than (drum roll, pl0x)... Dread Pirate Roberts!!1one!!11eleven!!

"Good night, Commander Bunny. Good work. Sleep well.
I'll most likely kill you in the morning."
--Dread Pirate Roberts

Sekrit Skwirrel managed to snatch this copy of a rabbity rant fresh off the Vines, just before someone thought better of it and vamoosed the evidence back into the vault.

Feast your jaded peepers on this gen-you-whine document salvaged from the FRN, guaranteed to be hardly shooped at all. (Max rez version for download.)

An excerpt from the now-deleted thread tells all:


"The other BS floating around the internet is that I'm not the "real" Commander *****. Seems I have to explain this every 5 years to the newbie monkeys over 9000 penises who think they know it all! I AM THE REAL COMMANDER ***** YOU DUMB ASSES!

"There have been 5 Commander *****'s over the years. Commander ***** dates back to the 60's and has been passed along to only the most deserving and meritorious Rabbits. You know like the Phantom (oh ghost who walks).

"I am the latest incarnation of Commander *****. Unquestionably the most inventive, intelligent and prolific, and whomever the Rabbit is that takes it over from me, has big paws to fill!"

--Commander Bunny bunnifesto, 3/18/11



He seems... I don't know... grumpy.

But how f*****g awesome is that! Even with the cryptic asterisks, the f*****g awesomeness provokes me into yet another spasm of metafictional bliss. I'm betting the original Commander Asterisk must have been William Goldman himself!

Buttercup: You're the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it.
Commander Bunny: With pride. What can I do for you?
Buttercup: You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.

We're guessing the original Commander ***** must have been loitering in the Saigon whorehouse room beneath Dave Rabbit's when Radio First Termer was oddcasting. The RFT mojo seeped through a rabbit hole in the floor and splooged all over the first poor fellow whose destiny it was to become the progenitor of a long line of talented, entertaining and increasingly curmudgeonly harecasters.

We note that ComBun is still struggling with the concept of "free". Free pogey bait from WBNY = good. Free speech on IRC or by "competitors" on radio = EVIL, GO DIE IN A FIRE!!! Ohh, the lolocaust.

Now, you didn't actually think we'd really expose ComBun's real identity did you? FFS, we may be trolls but we're not snitches. We leave that job to the bunny mafia. (More about that in an upcoming article.)


"Dread Commander Bunny had grown so rich, he wanted to retire.
He took me to his Montana cabin and he told me his secret.
'I am not the Dread Commander Bunny' he said. 'My name is ****...'"


"His name was 'asterisk' too?"

"Yes, well, never mind... I inherited the FRN from the previous
Dread Commander Bunny, just as you will inherit it from me.
The man I inherited it from is not the real Dread Commander Bunny either.
His name was **********. The real Bunny has been retired
15 years and living like a king on the Outer Banks.'"



Got any lulzy or informative screencaps or HTML copies to share? Drop RP a line. We don't pick on the FRN exclusively (at the moment we're just way behind on so much FRN hilarity it only seems like we're picking on them - hey, when you're the best, as you always affirm, ya gotta be ready for bushwhackers like RP). If it's radio-related and srsly funny we wanna hear the juice. We'd prefer unedited copies or screen shots - we'll do the shooping around here, varmints.

And only a moron would drop docs on anyone in the pirate radio scene, including people you think are "only" listeners - some of them are also ops. First of all, it violates the Prime Directive. Second, we don't give a shit. The real identities of most people in the pirate radio scene are irrelevant. As veteran FRN leader Pat Murphy often reminds us, much of pirate radio is a magic act - we don't need or even want to know how it's done. Only a very few people in pirate radio (for example, commercial broadcast media figures or those with political connections) might be considered "public figures" by most news media standards and cannot expect the same degree of privacy and anonymity. If we spot sockpuppets we'll check 'em for holes ourselves laugh. We're not here to fuck up people's real lives. But having fun with online shenanigans is fair game. And if you are so wrapped up in your pirate persona that you think it's real life, umm... it's not that important. Go take some food to a struggling family. Drive an elderly or handicapped neighbor to their doctor's appointment. Masturbate. All these are more important than pirate radio. Unless you're Lad, in which case masturbating while on air is probably a priority.

Until next time... have fun stormin' da castle! And stay tuned for the wrap-up of the Fester Trilogy, to be published as soon as BNtP comes out of his Jenkem-induced coma. Not fer nuttin' is he called Brown Nose the Pirate.

And for bumfuzzled lurkers, Commander Bunny is among the most talented and prolific shortwave pirate radio figures. Also occasionally rather too fond of the smell of his own farts, but aren't most creative people furries? (Actually his sockpuppeting nuthuggers are more pestiferous than ComBun hisself since they occasionally manage to f4g up the FRN so badly there isn't a facepalm in the world large enough to contain the samef4ggotree.) You can nibble from his garden by downloading or streaming audio from his various shows hare or hare, and friend him grovel to his majesty hare. He also offers excellent QSL packages for confirmed signal reports. RP has none since our unfunny efforts at degassing the lagomorph prolly don't endear us to his hareness. But we might ask for some pogey bait after we're safely behind seven maildrops.

Brown Nose the Pirate: Is very strange. I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it's over, I don't know what to do with the rest of my life.
Commander Bunny: Have you ever considered piracy? You'd make a wonderful Dread Commander Bunny.
BNtP: Really? You think so?
ComBun: No. You're a troll. You're ruining pirate radio. Burn in hell.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Fester, Part 2

As we resume our tale, RP remembers why we seldom approve per diem for Brown Nose the Pirate's freelance DXpeditions.

The ICOM elevator stops, but we're between the sixth and seventh floors. I can hear a garbled, whining voice coming from the hallway. I'm reaching for the emergency phone when the Jay-Kracker hybrid calmly raises a hand to indicate I should wait. "Our destination is between the sixth and seventh storeys," he explains.

With one hand he gently pats the Kracker-shaped lump under his tent-sized t-shirt and mutters "Shhh... shhh... my little feejee mermaid." With the other hand he slides open a hidden compartment on the control panel to reveal a tuning knob labeled "Jog Storey." He turns the dial slowly and the digital display reads 6.300... 6.350... 6.400... "This old ICOM elevator is slow," he says. "The internal backup battery died last year and the software was screwed up. We're hoping for an upgrade from ICOM by next Fest."

"You should get a software defined elevator," I suggest.

He glares at me. "Those things without real knobs? No, thanks."

The shrill voice outside the door is still mostly garbled and unintelligible, but seems familiar.

"You have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and I won't have it! Is that clear? You think you've merely stopped a few stations. That is not the case!"

I tilt an ear toward the elevator door, trying to recognize the voice. It seems familiar.

"Yes," Jay replies, "it's him. But no one ever hears him clearly until we reach nearly the seventh storey." He continued fine tuning "6.900... 6.915... 6.925..." and the voice snapped into sudden clarity.

"...have taken over frequencies, and now they must give them back! It is ebb and flow, tidal gravity! It is ecological balance! These are the enemies. There are no pirates but me! There are to be no slack-jawed, lip-drooling, knuckle-draggers! You will serve as vice president at my pleasure! Don't tell me about your Bowling League. Did you really believe they'd have any say in this? There is only one holistic system of systems, one vast and immane, interwoven, interacting, multivariate, multinational dominion...

The elevator door slides open, obscuring the shrill keening for a moment.

"...of me!"

I look up. We're on floor 6.925, a hidden storey between the 6th and 7th. I step toward the hall but Jay urgently waves me back. It's only been a few minutes since my last shot of Cuervo and Mickey's chaster but I'm getting antsy. And that suckling sound under Jay's carnival sideshow of a t-shirt is grating my nerves.

"Wait!" he hisses. "Listen!" And I do. The oddly pitched voice careening down the hall toward us is scouring my ears like a steel wool Q-tip dipped in Comet cleanser.

"My QSL packages will determine the totality of life on this planet! That is the natural order of things today. That is the atomic and subatomic and galactic structure of things today! And YOU have meddled with the primal forces of nature, and YOU... WILL... ATONE! Am I getting through to you, Kracker? You get up on your little 10 watt Corsair and howl about Bozo and Fansome and asshats and free speech and how you won't QSL and then you play Grateful Dead songs that nobody gives a crap about. There is no Bozo! There is no Fansome! There is no free speech! There is only WBNY and our affiliates and our mighty 8-watt International Relay Service!" (The voice is like Judge Doom from Who Framed Roger Rabbit, when he was dissolving in Dip. Only more annoying, if that's possible.)

"But people will think I'm an asshole."
(I'm hearing another voice... like Kracker's voice... but it can't be... he's in here, under Jay's shirt...) "I mean, just this week I accused Mr. Announcer of being a sockpuppet for Radio Ronin Shortwave and I fucked up. I forgot that Mr. Announcer is the op for CYOT. So I had to delete my post to cover my butt. Maybe he'll quit, I don't know. He seems so polite. I shouldn't be such an asshole all the time..."

"You are an asshole! Never forget it! It's what you do best! As my vice president your job is to troll my enemies, flame them, discourage them, chase them away from my Furry Rodent Network, For Rabbit Nuthuggers only!"

"But Pat always told us to never attack another pirate..."

"DOES PAT SEEM LIKE HE'S IN CONTROL OF ANYTHING ANYMORE?!?"
(Came the shrieking voice.)

"I guess not. But why me?"


"Because you're on the radio, dummy. Six people listen to you every time you broadcast.
Consider yourself lucky that you're not one of my designated nut polishers. That job is for Mosby and Thumper."

"I have seen the face of God."

"You're goddam right. Never forget it. Now get the fuck out of here and sell some of my t-shirts. Take plenty of extra large. The lobby is full of overweight middle aged DXers."

Jay motions me out of the elevator. A door slams open and shut again, toward the end of the hall where the shrieking voice seemed to be. A haggard 40-ish guy wearing aviator sunglasses shuffles past, shaking his head. Suddenly I recognize him - it's Kracker. "Fuck you, Bozo," he mutters without enthusiasm as he passes.

"Love you more," Jay replies gently.

Fuck me again, I'm thinking, and nearly swivel my head off spinning around to look at the lump under Jay's shirt.

Jay chuckles, bitterly. "You thought this thing suckling from my belly was Kracker? No. It's a clone, one of Dr. Benway's experiments gone horribly awry. Benway made it for me after culturing bits of spittle from Kracker's roaches and beer bottles and droplets of bile from his vomit. I suppose Benway thought I would punish and torture it as the real thing has tormented me." He paused for a moment, deep in thought.

"It's as cruel as the real thing, and even more effective at manipulating me into feeling sorry for it and putting up with its abuses." Jay looked down and rubbed the squirming lump. "My little homunculus. My little bit of revenge." He looked up sadly and muttered "Be careful what you wish for."

Benway, I'm thinking... I should have known he'd be mixed up in this. I watch the real Kracker shuffling dejectedly down the hall where he raps out a coded knock on a door. A few muffled words are exchanged and the door is opened. After Kracker enters the room a lank-haired guy peers out into the hallway with nervous, ferretlike energy. He looks like Robert Crumb. I'm half expecting Fat Freddy to show up next. He catches my glance and vanishes like his head was yanked back on a leash, leaving a cloud of smoke and Ozium behind.

"Cosmikdebris," Jay says, behind me.

I nod my head. "Sure, makes sense."

"This way," he says, indicating the room from which the shrieking voice had come. The coniglio di tutti conigli. I'm thinking of my Sheridan Blue Streak .20 cal. pump back home. One pill to the head always did the trick on lagomorphs. But this one had a serious mean streak. It had survived several assassination attempts and seemed to thrive on venom, bile and spite. Only the Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch would do, and the nearest armory was in Pittsburgh at Our Lady of Perpetual Hostility.

I'm thinking back to my days as a covert anti-therapist/debriefing specialist for Benway, back when major medical insurance covered T.D, Total Demoralization. That was before Kaczynski, before the media found out what we really did. I remember Benway's theory:

"An agent is trained to deny his agent identity by asserting his cover story. So why not use psychic jiu-jitsu and go along with him? Suggest that his cover story is his identity and that he has no other. His agent identity becomes unconscious, that is, out of his control..."

Yeah, I'm thinking, why not. It might work. Rumor had it the bunnyman was a spook in a former life. Rumor had it he'd broken, lost the veils between his multiple cover aliases and his true identity... if there ever was one. Probably already primed for a post-hypnotic suggestion. All I needed was the key word or phrase. I mentally sorted through the triggers we'd been using to provoke predictable rages. Had to be one of those... maybe an offhand mention of a Canadian pirate radio station was all it took.

Jay rapped out a peculiar pattern on the door: .-- -... -. -.--

I'm looking down and see a shadow break across the green light under the door. The door cracks open. An acrid odor wafts by... old cedar shavings, urine and something hellish that seemed familiar.

Jay gestures for me to go in. For a moment I'm transfixed by the growing wet splotch on his t-shirt where his little Kracker-homunculus is suckling on... what? I shake my head, take a deep breath and move toward the door.

"Be careful what you wish for!" Jay hisses sharply, then turns and stalks away.


(To be continued.)

Friday, March 11, 2011

Fester, Part 1

RP couldn't make the Fest this year and began worry we'd have no story at all. We'd heard certain veterans behind the interminable rabbit hype machine were invigorated by last year's SWL gathering (the hangover from which was certainly evident throughout 2010), but would not be attending this year. Didn't seem like we'd miss much so our friend and confidant Brown Nose the Pirate promised to attend in our stead and fill us in on anything interesting.

When we didn't hear from BNtP by the usual Wednesday filing date we assumed he'd flaked out again and prepared some filler dredged from HF Underpants. Nice folks but let's face it, looking for rumors on HFU is like gossiping with an accountant who moonlights as a pastor.

Turns out Brownie detoured through Disgraceland to and from the Fest. Lord knows what sort of reality altering experiences occurred after exposure to Evil Elvis's back yard psychefarm.

BNtP files this report:

"First of all, buddy, after grazing through EE's garden I'm lucky to be sane enough to write at all. I'm not sure any of this stuff I think I remember even happened. Talk about down yer rabbit hole. This is down yer rabbit hole, through the looking glass sideways, skin the rabbit with a jagged piece of looking glass and smoke it.

Ennyways, sometime late Friday night, the 4th, I'm in the Doubletree bar downing Cuervo Gold and Mickey's chasers tryin' ta clear my head. I feel this tap on my right shoulder, guy says "I got a message for you" in this baritone pro radio guy voice. No surprise, joint is full of radio guys. I look up. In the mirror I see this guy Jay S., everbody calls Bozo. But sumpin' ain't right, I don't know what. Then I put it together. Not only does the voice not match what I've heard on the radio, but his gut is missing. He's got the same sideshow tent sized white t-shirt as always, but it's baggy where his ginormous gut should be. And this creepy feeling crawls up my neck like that feeling you get when a WBNY QSL package of pogey bait arrives, but you never sent in a signal report, and the package is ticking.

"Fuck off," I suggest and toss down a fourth Cuervo. I'm curious what he wants, especially after the coin drops that the whole Bozo act is a sham. But I need a minute to think because his eyes ain't like in the photos I've seen, the kind where the lights are off and nobody's home. Nah, this guy's eyes, not only are the lights on but whoever's home, I don't wanna know.

"You want to hear this message," he intones with great precision. "It's from the bunnyman."

Yeah, he's got my attention now. I'm trying not to show it. But I feel my throat tense up as I chug half a pint of Mickey's and it makes this ploink! sound like the echo of a dry turd hitting the deep end of the bowl. And I'm pretty damn sure he's heard it too.

I'm studying my thumbnail to buy another moment. Sudden like, I feel this sharp gnawing pain on my left ankle. I look down from the bar stool. It's Kracker. Fuck me, I'm thinking, he's a goddam leprechaun. Guy can't be more than three feet tall, and most of that is head.

"Listen up, pally," he insinuates with that too-familiar nasally whine. "Boss wants to see you. Now."

Just when I'm thinking Kracker can't get any more annoying, he deftly dodges the swipe from my Herman Survivor size 11. I swivel around looking for another shot, just in time to catch him shinnying up Jay's legs. In a flash he's under Jay's baggy t-shirt and wraps himself crossways just above the waist. And sudden like the infamous Bozo gut is there... the Kracker-shaped gut. I'm staring, slack-jawed, suddenly aware of the irony of an all-too-familiar Bunny rhetoric about slack-jawed, lip-drooling, knuckle-dragging fill-in-the-blank for whatever or whomever the AnthropoMorphyBunny is pissed off about this week.

"Shall we?" says the Jay-Kracker thing. I can tell from his voice it's not a question. I slug down the fifth shot of Cuervo, finish the 40 of Mickey's and slide off the barstool. I fish a twenty tip out for the bartender. He seems genuinely surprised. I want him to remember my face, in case I need some sort of assurance later than any of this shit really happened.

On the elevator ride up I'm hearing this slurping sound. It's coming from underneath Jay's t-shirt. I'm tryin' not ta look but outta corner of my eye I notice this wet spot forming on the t-shirt. That last pint of Mickey's and fifth shot of Cuervo is gaining traction toward my throat and actin' like it's gonna skeedaddle. I grab a chaw of Juicy Fruit and give silent thanks to Current Time Radio as my gut settles. The elevator and my stomach both lurch to a stop."


(To be continued...)

Sunday, March 6, 2011

3's & 7's at the FRN

So much abuzz on the shortwave pirate radio scene over the past few weeks it's not easy to choose a starting point between the just completed Fest, wars, rumors of wars, friends getting knocked up and leporidae dissembling. Let's begin with the bumbling bunny, shall we?

Our old friend BNtP tells us that despite Billo fronting a show of bravado on the Furry Rodent Nutwork ("Ah ain't skeert" declares Billo, from the Ted Kaczynskiesque Montana one-holer he calls home, "ain't been no FCC busts since nigh unto nineteen ought '98!"), secretly the rabbit is running scared over rumors of FCC enforcement actions... as many as four ops getting The Knock within a year. We're told that Commander Bunny is frightened out of his fur, begging listeners not to log WBNY shows until after the broadcast is complete... but not frightened enough to curtail the usual confident self promotion for logs of his QRP signal (fortunately his usual crew of leg warmers will pitch in with assurance that, yes, his signal can be heard outside the confines of his hutch).

So, Fabulous Rodent Nuthuggers, which is it? What are you hearing privately about the FCC that has fallen on deaf ears on the For Rodents only Network? According to sources, ComBun has been privately warning pirate ops since February 24 that real-time logs might endanger WBNY, while as of February 27 Billo and Pat* publicly declared "All is well"?

We also hear the myxomatosis carrier is spreading one of his favorite diseases - hysterical slander - north of the border, in an attempt to infect our Canadian friends. Is that the smell of Beans burning? Moron that... pardon, more on that later.

What happened to that spirit of camaraderie and pirates looking out for one another... oh, wait, this is the rabbit we're talking about. And it's all about the rabbit, isn't it? As the song goes:

"Lie, lie to my face
Tell me it ain't nothing
That's what I wanna hear
Take the lie to the grave
That's what an old friend told me
Look what it did for him"
3's & 7's - QOTSA

*Oh, BTW... your socks are showing.