In Defense of Shatner: William Shatner under attack from misleading Salon and Gizmodo stories

William Shatner has come under attack by Salon and Gizmodo claiming he’s “alt-right.” These baseless claims reference some of his Twitter activity where for months he’s been embroiled in harassment, intimidation, and threats from an overly frenzied fanbase of Outlander viewers who think Caitrionia Balfe and Sam Heughen’s on-screen romance should extend to the real world. Months of attacks and a recent run in with SJWs while trying to support Autism charities could be a large part of the ire behind some of the recent “choice language” Shatner has used. Words as foul and unforgivable as “snowflake” and “misandry” for instance.

This is a read through of a draft I’ll be posting soon at the Inquisitr in support of our brave Captain.




Special Report: Bewilderoo, TN

A not so common look at the not so common festival.

by Phillip Fairbanks

Though the festivities didn’t begin until June, my Bonnaroo story begins in March, when I got my confirmation that I would indeed be receiving press credentials and tickets for the big show. In a way, here in early July, I’m coming full circle as I put pen to paper in attempts to capture some literary tincture of that magic something, that “temporary autonomous zone” that for four days in Manchester, Tennessee is known as Bonnaroo.

The first elements are preparation and anticipation. March through June were a whirlwind of consciousness expansion including, but not limited to, ingestion of obscure, legal herbs from the Oaxacan, Mayan and Aztec canon, shadowboxing, glossolalia, yoga and failed attempts at emulating the painfully intricate moving meditation of Master Li Hongzhi’s Falun Dafa. At about the same time, I was working on a sort of counterculture Tony Robbins, a la Tim Leary and Robert Anton Wilson that resulted in pages of maps, models, schemas, tips, tricks, mantras and insufferably incoherent psychobabble based on anchoring intense states for ready retrieval. Here I was treading on dangerous waters. My roommates at the time, who had dealt with this quasi-psychotic behavior since March had had enough by the time May rolled around.

Armed with new and activated knowledge, or as Bob Wilson deems it “neuro-somatic knowhow,” I didn’t let this snag steal the momentum of the movement, but consciously down-shifted at this point. Besides, after a frightening Salvia Divinorum experiment gone awry, it seemed high time to arc down my emotional parabola.

Being a small town boy from a rural area, having something as big as Bonnaroo breeze through once a year next door, so to speak, is a dreamlike experience. Being at times, a pretentious performance artist for an audience of one, constantly crafting an opus I like to call, my life, the annual festival down on the farm down the road is always an ordeal, a crucible and a rite, not merely a convergence of people, art, music and drugs (though these are typical cornerstones of many ancient ritual festivals as well). Needless to say I got no sleep Wednesday night and word comes that they’re letting folks in to set up camp so we head to Manchester.

I get dropped off Thrusday morning around 3:30 in the A.M. By the time sun comes up my tent is stilll unpacked. It’s hot and there are thousands of people surrounding me in every direction. I’m closed in. Bonnaroo has become overnight. A rush of adrenaline tinged terror wraps icy tendrils about me. I know that my notorious lack of direction will ensure that I will lose my site if I leave. After meeting Will and his group, I decide it might be safe to leave as long as I don’t get separated from them and lose all chance of ever rediscovering my campsite. Already I’m feeling that soft sadness that accompanies this small town boy’s Bonnaroo experience. It’s beautiful, like life, but like life its over before its begun, and I make sure to soak up every ounce of that weird tincture of emotions that infectiously spreads. Like Norman from New Jersey had corroborated earlier. The world is a strange and weird place.

Read more at Ghettoblaster. 

Chris Whitley, War Crime Blues review for

Standout tracks like “Her Furious Angels” and the title track showcase Whitley’s sparse, yet complex picking patterns while highlighting, as well, his adept literary talent. The same jovial energy Chris bombarded us with in earlier hits like “Scrapyard Lullaby” keeps the listener hooked to the folksy drone of his acoustic axe. Another jewel is Whitley’s cover of the Lou Reed tune “I Can’t Stand It,” bridging folk-blues and old-guard punk in an irresistible fusion.

If you’re a fan of Whitley’s early work, you’ll not be let down, but if you’re unfamiliar with the artist and a fan of good blues, then War Crime Blues is definitely worth a spin. The work is from the same vein as earlier releases: nouveau-vintage acoustic Delta blues.

(Did I just make that up?)

Read the rest at

Daily Show reunion after Colbert Controversy


DAILY SHOW REUNION (for The Inquisitr, May 11, 2017)


“I’m not comfortable,” Jon Stewart said during his turn on the hot seat with Colbert. “I’ll tell you why. I’ve been reading about you, I’ve been seeing you in the news. You have a potty mouth.” It seems like the tiniest bit of deflection here considering the issue most people had, and the reason an FCC investigation may be launched was due to the homophobic nature of the comments at the climax of the monologue.

“Why do we hold comedians to a standard we won’t hold our leaders to?”

The official YouTube channel of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert refers to this in the video title as “ribbing” on the part of the former Daily Show host. “Stephen’s former boss comes by to catch up on current events, and says he’s pretty sure comedians and Presidents shouldn’t be held to the same standards of conduct.”

Read more at The Inquisitr.

Brown Acid, The 4th Trip review at New Noise magazine

Brown Acid
The Fourth Trip
(RidingEasy Records)

I promise I will try not to make this about me as much as possible, but as any psychonaut can tell you a trip will always be intensely subjective and personal. With a harrowing journey adventuring in Portland fresh on my mind (and blistered feet) I seemed to take on the baggage of my current “set and setting,” to borrow some jargon from Dr. Leary, while I dosed the most recent in RidingEasy Records’ compilation of rare garage psych from the hippie era. This specimen in particular is The Fourth Trip, and as far as recommendations go, I would advise the reader to forego the ominous warning from Woodstock. Go ahead and take the brown acid, especially if you like to freak out.

This compilation album starts out hard and heavy with Kanaan’s “Leave It.” Hard hitting and driving tune that sets the stage for the symphony of hard rock to come. Next up is Stone Garden’s with “Oceans Inside Me.” This tasty deep cut is definitely a ruby amongst diamonds in the rough. A sort of sinister Syd Barrett-esque freak out psychedelia with just a tinge more of the heavily ominous in it’s air. This album is definitely suited for work out routines, hiking, cycling or late night drives or long road trips. A sonic time capsule perfectly outfitted to enliven any smoking session, as well as it’s release date the 20th of April suggests.

Continue at New Noise MagazineBrown-Acid-The-Fourth-Trip.jpg