I’ve posted 2 things on my Substack page. The first when my Substack page was called “Let Them Eat Grass” That title fell by the wayside as it was was too specific. The second was under the title “The Acorn”, also cast aside, too vague and whimsical. I’m tempted by “Truth and Love” which is the overarching theme of a memoir I’m in the process of writing, but that maybe a tad holier than thou, so for now at least we’re going with “Roger Waters”
Here is Number 3. “My Friend Gorby.”
In the Covid spring of 2020 I was invited to give a SXSW Keynote Speech in Austin moderated by Michael Moore. Predictably the usual suspects had started to howl in protest before Covid intervened to spare them the trouble.
Sometime later that year:
On January the 10th this year I got a letter from Holland. Some good news for a change.
A film company is making a documentary about a fight I’m involved in there in Holland (Ziada v Gantz and Eshel)
They send me a film they’ve made previously. I start to watch.
It’s about the murder of four journalists in El Salvador in 1983.
I could wake every morning and weep into my pillow for the unjustly dead.
Now, two sips into tonight’s first glass of wine…
I am dragged from my heartbreak when the phone rings, I pause the documentary about El Salvador and the four murdered Dutch journalists to take the call. It’s from my old friend Jim Ladd, renowned Californian free form DJ, it’s a preamble to a Sirius XM interview, about my coming tour. THIS IS NOT A DRILL
There is however a hiccup. Apparently, Sirius don’t want me to talk about politics.
How apt, how ironic, and also how moronic. Apparently, well this is their story, they are worried that I might hurt the feelings of some of their subscribers. No really, I’m serious. You couldn’t make this shit up! It’s a good thing I love Jim Ladd, or I’d tell them where to stuff their subscriber’s feelings.
I mean God forbid that a subscriber to Sirius XM’s feelings should be so hurt that they cancel their subscription.
Reducing Sirius XM’s bottom line by? Who knows? Anyone? Anyone?
“Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” for any one who doesn’t go to the movies.
As we know under US law a company’s only responsibility is to its shareholders and bottom line.
I confess, please don’t tell anyone I said this, but the thought of Sirius XM’s colon painfully bloated with the feelings of offended subscribers that I have stuffed up their corporate ass, is compellingly attractive and cheers me no end, please hold that image.
Michael stop chuckling. (Michael Moore)
If this wasn’t so serious it would be fucking funny, but it is serious and it’s not funny.
It’s all about controlling the narrative. Let’s be “Sirius” for a moment, pun intended. He who controls the narrative controls the world. And who does control the narrative? Well, in this case it’s whoever owns Sirius XM. The message to Jim is this, “We, “whoever owns Sirius XM”, don’t like Roger Waters’ world-view, it doesn’t coincide with our own so he can’t express it on the platform we own.” It’s the same with the NYT, The Washington Post, all the English press including The Guardian, all mainstream TV, blah blah blah. So, we the people have to find our own platforms. SXSW? Michael Moore’s podcast? A case in point is Julian Assange and his on-going fight against extradition to America to face a show trial and death in prison. Julian Assange has committed no crime, with the exception of a minor bail infringement in the UK, but he did expose some of your government’s minor war crimes. Your government doesn’t like people exposing their war crimes, even minor ones like, in this case, the cold-blooded murder by trigger happy good old boys, from the complete safety of their heavily armed, and armored, Apache helicopter of a number of un-armed Iraqi civilians including two Reuters journalists. So they have decided to make an example of him. Hang him in the hedge like a magpie shot by the gamekeeper caught stealing eggs from the laird of the manor. In effect kill him by locking him up until he dies. This, in spite of the fact, no because of the fact, that as an honest journalist, he is an invaluable asset to anyone interested in discovering the true nature of the narrative that controls all our lives, and in consequence our ability to make informed choices about the how best to serve and protect our mother earth. I have an update, here, in NY, last week Tucker Carlson, to his eternal credit let me share some of these self-evident truths on Fox News. Thank you Tucker Carlson. Where the fuck is the rest of the mainstream media?
Michael……not too long please…… I’m the guest.
Ok Michael but why are we here? What is SXSW, I confess when I was invited here, I had no idea. I’m still not clear, Is this a trade show? If so what are we meant to be peddling?
Maybe you can help me here?
OK, where was I? Oh yeah! Moving on.
Let’s talk about…….?
The healing power of music.
We are, after all in Austin Texas.
A town which to its eternal credit has shown a heartfelt attachment to popular music’s most important form of protest The Blues. Take this hammer and carry it to the captain X3 You can tell him I’m leaving, you can tell him I’m gone. Huddie William Ledbetter. Leadbelly.
Scroll forward a hundred years. Huddie’s still in chains, it’s called three strikes and you’re out, we have Bill Clinton to thank for that bullshit, and the thirteenth amendment to the constitution of the United States of America, which provides that "Neither slavery nor involuntary servitude, except as a punishment for crime whereof the party shall have been duly convicted, shall exist within the United States, or any place subject to their jurisdiction." “Except as a punishment for a crime” Like for instance, the crime of being black, or poor. Hey presto, you repeal slavery and re-introduce it legally formalized as justice all in 32 little old words. Don’t get me started. Alright? What else?
Michael.
Can I tell you a story? Well back in the day, I, for my sins, had a friend who was, for his sins, a junior minister or something or other in the foreign office during the Thatcher years. Any-way part of his duties was to occasionally put on his morning suit and bosh off to the airport to greet foreign dignitaries, heads of state, that sort of thing. So, one morning a flight is coming in with President Gorbachev on board, not staying or anything, just refueling, at Heathrow. So, my friend and a bunch of other young diplomats and foreign office skivvies are dispatched to bow and scrape for however long it takes to refuel. Heathrow is packed with security of course, ours and theirs, but Gorby arrives without much fuss, with only one aide and a couple of goons, and is shown with much bowing and scraping into a holding pen. He keeps his coat on, keeps himself to himself and stares around at the assembled, pink cheeked beaming ass lickers. A few minutes go by, and then, breaking the uncomfortable silence, Gorbachev leans sideways to his aide and says something in Russian, the aide addressing the little pricks gathered before him says, (Russian accent), “President Gorbachev would like to ask question.” The young chaps from the foreign office think, “Oh, I say jolly good, gosh” they prick up their ears and shuffle forward half a step, Gorbachev looks round with piercing eyes and again leans over to speak to the aide,”(Blah blah Russian accent) Aide, “President Gorbachev would like to hear opinion on how history of world would have been change, if President Khrushchev had been assassinated rather, than President Kennedy? Fuck me, wooh! This is way too difficult for the little pricks, they all take a half-step back and stare at their shoes, shift their weight uneasily from side to side, and twist their signet rings nervously behind their backs. Gorbachev lets them stew for a while and then speaks to his aide again. (Blah, Blah, Russian accent) The aide looks up, expressionless, and clears his throat, “President Gorbachev thinks it unlikely that Mr. Onassis would have married Mrs. Khrushchev.”
Zoom forward to 2003, I find myself at a Berlin Film Festival offshoot, Cinema for Peace. President Gorbachev and I are both being honored for services to peace. So, we bosh up and on the first morning there is a press conference that we are both required to attend. At 12.00 noon all the dignitaries meet in a private suite in a posh hotel, wow there he is, the great man, across the room! With him, along with a number of Film festival types, is a stunningly beautiful young blond woman. Who the fucks that? Zat’s his grand-daughter Anastasia. Ahh, what now? Luckily in the corner is the ubiquitous, almost, but not quite, heel clicking, bloke with a tray of glasses full of champagne. Whoooosh, thank you so much. Glug, glug, glug. Fortified and emboldened I approach the gorgeous grand-daughter.
Hello? You must be Anastasia? She could not have been more gracious, knew who I was, smiled etc, etc. Bit of small talk and then I pop the question. There’s a story about your Grandfather that I’ve heard, not sure if it’s true, blah blah, I know he doesn’t speak English, I, to my eternal shame don’t speak any Russian, might you be prepared to introduce me to your Grandfather and translate the story to him. Dah! She said yes.
He looked me up and down, I probably bowed slightly out of deference and in awe. His hand shake was firm.
The gorgeous Anastasia explained my predicament to Grandpa. Another “Dah” So I began telling the story. Pausing every now and again, as appropriate, to allow her to translate. Now it was Gorbachev’s turn to stare at his shoes. As I recall he didn’t look up once during the telling, nor did his body language betray anything he might have been feeling, eventually we got to the punch line, “President Gorbachev thinks it very unlikely that Mr. Onassis would have married Mrs. Kruschev” Not a flicker. Nothing. Didn’t even look up. Then, completely ignoring me the great man turned to Anastasia and said something in gruff Russian. He then finally looked up at me, eyeball to eyeball, hard eyes expressionless, Anastasia, a chip off the old block, paused then she said, “My Grandfather says story completely untrue” fuck……… But my Grandfather also says he like story very much and he ask you “Please keep telling it!”
The massive eruption of Russian bear hug and laughter and love is hard to describe, so I won’t try.
I stayed in touch with my friend Gorby. He died on August 30th 2022.
I miss him.
R.
I like the Roger Waters. Straight forward. ❤️
What a treat! Two offerings from Roger Waters, one just before turning in last night, and one as soon as I get up this morning!
Did you ever read Stranger in a Strange Land, Roger? If so you'll know the meaning of "water brothers". Maybe you could play around with that theme for the name of your stack? Just a thought. "Roger Waters" works just fine given that everyone knows who you are.
Anyway, good morning Brother Waters!!! Thanks for your Gorby story. With love, Kali