Month: October 2025

Posted on

IMHO, One Of Their Best

I had no idea that Very existed in this particular format (the solid orange, Lego-like jewel case) until a few weeks ago (or if it did at one time, it’s long gone from memory). When it originally came into my life in 1993, I picked up the two disc set, Very/Relentless after hearing the Relentless portion at The Playground. Even that release was unusual, in that the discs were in cardboard sleeves inside a flexible, clear, embossed fold-out case. Very/Relentless was one of my most beloved discs and was actually the second CD I replaced (the first being Kraftwerk’s Minimum/Maximum) after I started rebuilding my collection a few years ago.

This particular copy of Very has issues. There are a couple of scratches on the disc, and the jewel case is missing all the splines that hold the disc in place, but what do you want for $8? Fortunately I found another copy for the same price last night that’s described as “near-mint” and is on its way. This copy will go in the trade/sell pile for my next trip to Book●Off.

So much for not posting as much, eh?

Posted on

Why Didn’t I Buy This When I Had The Chance?

[pdf-embedder url=”https://voenixrising.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/hfe_nakamichi_bx-100e_150e_brochure-1-2.pdf”]

 

Picture it: Tucson 1986. Jerry’s Audio. A $2000 credit line.

I’d just bought a new system that included the sweet Yamaha A-700 amp that I’ve written about at length, a Yamaha T-700 tuner, a pair of Phase Tech PC-60 loudspeakers and a Sony D-10 portable CD Walkman. My old silver Sony cassette deck that I’d never been completely happy with stood out like a sore thumb in this stack of black anodized aluminum, so I went shopping.

I’d always wanted a Nak. At the time (near the height of the cassette era) Nakamichi was the undisputed king of the hill and prior to the widespread adoption of CDs, the recordings made on their decks were about as perfect copies of the original source material as you were likely to get. Like so many of my peers, I was big into cassettes (at one point having a couple hundred; all but a handful now long gone) that were perfect companions for my daily commutes.

And yet, standing there in Jerry’s, I was torn between the Nak 100 (in black, of course) and the Yamaha K-540 (also in black). The Nak had an edge as far as the specs were concerned, but I also knew I’d probably never hear the difference. They were approximately the same price.

Ultimately, I ended up going with the K-540 for the stupidest of reasons: I liked the physical design better. I stood there staring at the Nak, thinking there was just something off-putting about it—despite the company’s reputation for excellence—that 1986 me just couldn’t get over. The Yamaha seemed much more user-friendly—and it also had a LED tape counter.

Am I on the verge of getting back into cassettes? Oh hell no, Mary! As a teenager of the 70s, they always seemed magical, but oh, such a pain in the ass! Remember the BIC pen trick? Pulling a cassette out of a car stereo that had spilled its guts into the mechanism? (To this day I remember pulling a copy of Elton John’s Blue Moves that I’d recorded onto a C-120 blank—blanks you shouldn’t use for anything because the tape was so damn thin—because it wouldn’t fit on a C-90 out of my Mom’s car one afternoon.) Yeah, good times. Still, when I was at the height of using them on the daily—at the dawn of the (then) skip-prone portable CD revolution, they were still the best solution for popping in a Walkman and throwing in your bag for music on the go.

In 2025, MiniDisc remains my recording medium of choice, and at least for me it fulfilled Sony’s vision of replacing cassettes.

What led me down this rabbit hole today was stumbling across a repair video on YouTube of a guy diagnosing an inoperative Nakamichi 100 and I thought, those weren’t bad looking at all! You were a fool, Mark!

Posted on

I Didn’t Say I Wasn’t Going To Post Anything

let’s start off with a bang. ladies and gents, I give you the winner of the Nobel Best Sign At No Kings Day Prize.

it’s Wonkette’s own Rebecca Schoenkopf — because once you’ve said what Rebecca’s said, what else is left?

folks, we did it.

an estimated seven million of us gathered peacefully coast to coast, to rise up as one and convey a singular message: fuck you, you fucking fuck — you’re not our king.

wait, did I say coast to coast? no, it was the entire world telling Donny Convict to fuck straight off.

folks showed up in South Korea.

and Geneva.

also in London.

holy shit, there was even one homey who parked himself in front of the US embassy in Tallinn, the capital of Estonia.

dude, you fucking rule.

meanwhile, back here in the US of A, the crowds were ginormous. check out Boston.

of course, Boston is in the major leagues when it comes to protesting. they’ve been perfecting this shit since 1773.

here’s Chicago.

and here’s Los Angeles

n Washington DC, folks carried a gigantic copy of the US Constitution down Pennsylvania Ave.

Times Square in New York City.

holy shit, look at Pittsburgh.

and look at Charlotte, North Carolina.

it wasn’t just blue states. check out Salt Lake City, in deeply-red Utah.

and it wasn’t just big cities. Highlands, North Carolina, is a tiny town of only a thousand people. an estimated six hundred of them showed up to give Donny a well-earned finger.

the worst people in the world were so horny to paint No Kings Day as some kind of mass terror event, organized by some imaginary ‘pro-Hamas wing of the Democrat™ Party,’ whatever the fuck that is, and paid for everyone’s favorite wealthy Jew.

check out the full-time podcast bro Fidel Cancun.

Ted Cruz: Follow the money. You look at this No Kings rally—there’s considerable evidence that George Soros is behind funding these rallies which may well turn into riots.

hey, did you know that Ted Cruz has a side hustle as a US Senator? I know, I was shocked when I found out, too. I thought all he did was podcast, and put his unctuous werewolf face on Fox News.

anyway, here’s a fact check for Teddy C: fuck off.

Ted, you odious dumbfuck. do you actually think George Soros is cutting seven million paychecks for the protesters? I have a question: is Soros withholding taxes and issuing 1099s, or do we need to be keeping track of that shit ourselves? is an inflatable frog costume a deductible business expense?

fuck me, did I even remember to save the receipts?

I sure hope Hamas appreciates what these frolicking dinosaurs in Chicagoare doing to further their cause.

here’s an additional fact check for Ted and his claim of ‘widespread rioting’: piss up all the ropes

The majority of the No Kings protests have dispersed at this time and all traffic closures have been lifted. We had more than 100,000 people across all five boroughs peacefully exercising their first amendment rights and the NYPD made zero protest-related arrests.

New York City: zero arrests.

now let’s contrast that to what happened on Yes Kings Day, when a bunch of crybabies went ape-shit because they couldn’t deal with Dear Leader being a loser.

what was it that Ted and his ilk called these cop-beating fuckfaces? oh right: tourists blowing off steam.

let’s see if anyone got arrested closer to Ted Cruz’s home city of Austin.

Thank you to everyone who participated in the No Kings March today. The rally remained peaceful, with no arrests reported. We’re grateful to our community and event organizers for coming together to make sure voices were heard safely and respectfully. Great job ATX!

sorry, Ted. nada.

oh wait, there was one arrest of a protester. a woman in a penis costume got nailed in Fairhope, Alabama, for ‘lewd conduct.’ great use of your time, Fairhope cops. you’re doing the lord’s work.

and some dipshit in a Trump shirt got arrested for pulling out a gun at a protest in Myrtle Beach, FL.

so for those of you keeping score at home, it’s
— ginormous penis, 1
— MAGA asshole, 1
— seven million peaceful protesters, 0

Fox News is cordially invited to go fuck themselves. they spent the day trying to convince their credulous dolt audience that America was burning to the ground.

that’s all they have: lies. they know that the dopes glued to their TVs won’t even bother to look out their windows.

oh wait, America’s self-appointed Bathroom Panty Inspector has something to say.

words, what do they even mean, am I right, Nancy?

what was Nancy Mace even doing, tweeting during a day of widespread chaos and mayhem? she should have stationed herself in front of some porta-potty, so make sure no transgendered dinosaurs committed any crimes against nature.

fuck those fucking fucks. it’s time for some more heroes.

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Bill Grueskin on Bluesky

credit: Stacey Lynn King on threads

credit: Michelangelo Signorile on Bluesky

credit: freemark7 on Bluesky

credit: Betty Bowers on Bluesky

credit: Stephanie J. on Bluesky

credit: Aaron Rupar on Bluesky

credit: Bill Kristol on Bluesky

credit: Subodh Chandra on Threads

it’s funny, but I didn’t see one sign today that said ‘I love Hitler’ — I guess that shit’s only for unfuckable incel Republicans.

check out what the doughiest pantload ever to shit himself in the Oval Office farted out onto his failing app. it’s AI-generated slop of him, wearing a fucking crown, flying a fighter jet over protesters and dumping literal shit on them.

how mature.

fuck off, Donny.

was this dumbfuck video supposed to own libs? it should come with a warning label: no libs were owned by the distribution of this infantile twaddle.

this isn’t even conduct unbecoming of a president — it’s conduct unbecoming of anyone over the age of two.

wasn’t it just a little while ago that this deteriorating fuckwit got flummoxed by an escalator that turned into stairs? keep dreaming your little dreams of fighter-pilot glory, you insignificant, spiteful homunculus. we’re all laughing at you.

you’re not our king. you’re a very naughty boy. now go away.

and could our media please stop failing us?

no, it wasn’t ‘brown liquid’ — it was shit. just come out and say it.

oh, and New York Times: it wasn’t ‘thousands of protesters’ — try MILLIONS.

what the fuck is wrong with you?

let’s wrap this up with a palate cleanser. here’s Rebecca Schoenkopf again — because hers is a sign so nice, I’m using it twice.

have a great Sunday, everyone. you’ve earned it.

this is going to be my closing message for the foreseeable future:

practice self-care. do what you need to do to keep sane. if that means you need to disengage with my daily posts for a while, I get it. this community of ours will still be here when you return.

to all the people who have signed on in the days since the election, welcome aboard. settle in as we all try to deal with the shitfuckery that’s ahead of us.

we are all in this together, and we are all here for each other.

Posted on

Posting Will Be Intermittent

I’m taking a break. I’m not saying I won’t be posting anything for a while (because we all know that’s impossible) but I’m definitely going to be cutting back.

Everything is fine; I just can’t any more.

Stay tuned.

Posted on

BE AWARE

Tomorrow is another No Kings protest. Don’t give ICE or Guardsmen any excuse to rile things up. Then urge your local organizers to plan the next one for protesting the Congressional Cowards who are allowing the Regime to get away with all the unconstitutional bullshit.

Posted on

Fascinating!

Other than not using metal hurricane tie downs and other common US construction techniques, why isn’t this used here? Looks extremely sturdy…

 

Posted on

There Is No Literature Or Poetry In This White House

There is no literature or poetry in this White House.

No music.

No Kennedy Center award celebrations.

There are no pets in this White House.

No loyal man’s best friend. No Socks the family cat.

No kids’ science fairs.

No times when this president takes off his blue suit-red tie uniform and becomes human, except when he puts on his white shirt-khaki pants uniform and hides from Americans to play golf.

There are no images of the first family enjoying themselves together in a moment of relaxation.

No Obamas on the beach in Hawaii moments, or Bushes fishing in Kennebunkport, no Reagans on horseback, no Kennedys playing touch football on the Cape.

I was thinking the other day of the summer when George H couldn’t catch a fish and all the grandkids made signs and counted the fish-less days.

And somehow, even if you didn’t even like GHB, you got caught up in the joy of a family that loved each other and had fun.

Where did that country go?

Where did all of the fun and joy and expressions of love and happiness go?

We used to be a country that did the ice bucket challenge and raised millions for charity.

We used to have a president that calmed and soothed the nation instead dividing it.

And a First Lady that planted a garden instead of ripping one out.

We are rudderless and joyless.

We have lost the cultural aspects of society that make America great.

We have lost our mojo, our fun, our happiness.

The cheering on of others. Gone.

The shared experiences of humanity that makes it all worth it. Gone.

The challenges AND the triumphs that we shared and celebrated.

The unique can-do spirit Americans have always been known for. Gone.

We have lost so much in so short a time.

~Elayne Griffin Baker

[Thanks, Rick!}

Posted on

In Memoriam

Of all the friends and lovers who have passed in my life, this one still stings the most.

It’s now been five years and I still think about him often…and despite that sting, I find myself smiling uncontrollably.  I know we’ll cross paths again in some other guise one day.

I’m reposting this from 2020 because I don’t think I could write anything better than I did then:

Floyd Meeks, 1958-2020

2020 just needs fuck right off.

Now.

Seriously.

Traditional wisdom says that you should be able to sense when a loved one has died.

I’m here to say that’s a lie.

I found out this evening that my dear friend Floyd passed last October. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t COVID. It was his heart, and he went in his sleep.

Floyd left behind his husband Ron, with whom he’d shared his life for the last 40 years and many grieving friends, myself among them.

Floyd and I met January 28, 1983. Despite it being a Friday night I wasn’t planning on going out. As I recall it had been an exhausting week and I wanted nothing more than to simply stay home and unwind.

But I stepped outside that evening, saw the most incredible full moon rising above the Rincon Mountains east of Tucson, and something told me in no uncertain terms to go out. There was, as they say, magic afoot.

My destination was The Fineline, a relatively new dance club on Drachman Street. I’d been there with my partner Dennis, numerous times, but since we’d split up a two months earlier and he took off for Austin, this was one of the first times I’d gone there by myself.

And hell, I was young and in a state of perpetual hormonal arousal, so why not?

I’d been working out (believe it or not) since Dennis left and I was feeling good about my body and the way I looked. I radiated a certain amount of confidence and it didn’t take long for Floyd and I to gravitate to one another. He was there with his partner, Ron, putting a damper on any thoughts of immediately scampering off to get nasty. But Floyd assured me they had an open relationship and while nothing would be happening between us that night, he was definitely interested in getting together. We exchanged phone numbers.

Later that same night I met Lee, a friend whom I’ve written about before, thus cementing the magic of that night in my life.

Floyd called me the next morning. We had phone sex. Floyd was a dirty, dirty boy and I loved it. We hung out a lot in the weeks that followed. As we discovered our shared taste in music and culture, a genuine friendship and affection bloomed between us. That’s not to say the physical attraction waned; if anything it remained constant, and over the years we became infrequent fuck buddies, all—somewhat surprisingly—with Ron’s blessing. Even during my San Francisco years we remained in touch, with Floyd traveling to The City numerous times on business.

Floyd and your host, Marin Headlands, 1993

After I returned to Phoenix and made it through the cancer ordeal, I started driving to Tucson to visit the guys on a semi-regular basis. I had a new car and if for no other reason I needed to reconnect with the friends who knew me best while putting my life back together.

Floyd and I called each other Dolly (from our shared love of Personal Services.)  I’d call him up and say, “Dolly, I need to get out of town for a while. Are you and Ron free?” and depending on the answer, I’d hop in Anderson and make the 90 minute drive south. I remember one insane Saturday when I drove down to help with some computer issues, brought his PC back home to repair, and then returned it later that day.

Floyd did the same sort of spontaneous trips north, and one of my favorite memories were the two separate times he (and a few weeks later with Ron) came up to Phoenix and we shot photos at Arizona Falls.


Floyd and Ron, Arizona Falls 2008

Shortly before Ben and I left for Denver, Floyd and Ron fell on some very hard times. They both lost their longtime jobs, were unable to find work, lost everything they’d built together, and were forced to move in with Ron’s sister.  Through it all we stayed in touch, they stayed together, and when they’d gotten back on their feet and Ben and I moved back from Denver, talked of a weekend visit but it seemed life was continually getting in the way and one thing or another always prevented it.

When it finally seemed we were going to be able to coordinate a visit, COVID hit, killing our plans again. I last spoke with Floyd in September, when he called to tell me that Abe, a mutual friend from our University of Arizona days, had passed.

Floyd, Ron, Abe and I used to joke that when we got old and retired we’d buy a big house together and disgracefully spend our twilight years like the Golden Girls.

The best laid plans of mice, men, and queens…

Though we went through periods when we didn’t see each other, or even talk much other than an occasional text or email, Floyd was one of those people in my life I just knew would always be there…and now he’s not. I think that’s why this has hit me so hard. His impish grin, that devilish twinkle in his eye, and his extensive…vocabulary…will be so sorely missed. More than with any other death that’s hit my life (and yes, sadly that includes my parents and my first partner, Dennis), I feel like a part of me has been ripped out and there’s nothing but an empty hole remaining.

As I get older, it’s becoming more and more apparent to me that you need to tell the people you love that you love them every damn day, because they can be taken from you at any moment.