Tag Archives: ennio morricone

No Honor Among Mixtapes #4

Our very earliest associates and supporters may remember that the origins of The Cargo Culte lay in a collection of mixes that BaddBob and I began sharing in the late fall and winter of 2008. A few scant months after the banking meltdown I found myself back in Los Angeles after eight years of wandering, living off of unemployment. BaddBob a behind the scenes guy in television and commercials as well found himself without much paying work in those days. In short we had nothing but time on our hands and these mixes were the result. For me, I collected my own under one header entitled the No Honor Among Mixtapes series. There were 14 issues under this series including #.5 and #.75, so named because they were crafted for my new love (and later mother of my two children, matriarch of our clan). Invaluable tastemaker and Demagogue, BaddBob, enters the No Honor fray with this entry.

queimada
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No Honor Among Mixtapes #2

Our very earliest associates and supporters may remember that the origins of The Cargo Culte lay in a collection of mixes that BaddBob and I began sharing in the late fall and winter of 2008. A few scant months after the banking meltdown I found myself back in Los Angeles after eight years of wandering, living off of unemployment. BaddBob a behind the scenes guy in television and commercials as well found himself without much paying work in those days. In short we had nothing but time on our hands and these mixes were the result. For me, I collected my own under one header entitled the No Honor Among Mixtapes series. There were 14 issues under this series including #.5 and #.75, so named because they were crafted for my new love (and later mother of my two children, matriarch of our clan).

iprefer_girls
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The Whistle of the Knife Sharpener

We—who are we? I was born in 1914 to a large fortune; my wife could not have said the same—we were down in Mexico as a result of an untimely conviction in the state of Louisiana. My wife began drinking quite heavily. She had found herself without her beloved Benzedrine inhalers, endowed with excellent parts, a husband, and two young children, and bored, bored. Inclined by nature to industry, she’d put away a quart of tequila a day, just slugging it down; fond of the ‘all day,’ you know? Never showed the least respect for the wise and the good. Nor, for that matter, any sign of being drunk.

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Somewhere Over The Rainbow

“Okay, we’ve got red, orange, and purple,” Gin said. “Now we just need yellow, green, and blue.”
“Don’t forget indigo,” Sandy said as she scanned the row of lipstick tubes.
“What are you talking about?”
“Indigo,” Sandy repeated as if that explained everything. “You know. ROY G. BIV. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet.”
“That’s seven lipsticks. Only six girls are coming. We don’t need it.”

Children. They grow up so quickly. Too quickly. Every previous generation may say it of the next…yet the moral bankruptcy of America marches on.

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The Death Row to Neptune Express

Joseph A. Morse, San Quentin Prison’s Death Row, 1972.

After nearly a decade of subsisting on valium, seconal, prison-made wine and
a little heroin, I was introduced to LSD. My fellow condemned prisoners were a little reluctant to try the new chemical because of the gloomy environment, but I had practically been raised on death row. I had arrived there at age 19, and after nearly a decade I was still about 19 mentally and emotionally. So, what the fuck? Bring on a bad trip. How could it be any worse than reality?

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