A Nation Of Chumps And A Work In Progress
Greetings internet friends, family, and web bots.
Creginald here, signing in from glamourous SEATTLE, home of coffee and grunge!
After many years of thinking about digitally archiving (“digitizing”) the available material from the era, I have finally made baby steps in that bright, new direction.
A few thoughts going forward:
1. I’M AN OLD MAN!
This means I forget things, a little more often than you younger folks (and too often if you ask me, personally.) Mainly, I may have forgotten the exact dates involved. Did the program begin earlier than December of 1992? Maybe so! My air checks begin then, and end somewhere in late 1994.
Most of the tapes have approximate dates, but I am not 100% certain about all of those.
2. I AM PRE-DIGITAL!
Sure, you youngsters with your Virtual Reality goggles and your chiptunes and your gabber-house might have the hang of all of this stuff, but I’m just getting my feet wet (to use an archaic figure of speech) when it comes to this here Digital, online world.
I am not in the least bit a fan of social media much less Facebook, but in the present day (what with social distancing and so much more) these outlets have begun to more or less dictate our new reality, and the “New Normal” which they represent.
To that end, there is a basic tribute page on the book of faces (and “Facebook jail”), and air checks of the available audio content (audio-only, because ANOC was a radio show playing across the theater of the mind, only — no video) will soon be available at Archive.org.
2. WORK IN PROGRESS = DON’T GET YOUR HOPES UP
While I am old and semi-retired, I am still active in my career path, which means that (owing to my other creative projects and professional commitments) both this blog, the Facebook tribute page, and the air check uploads must all be considered works in progress. In other words, please be patient!
I hope to upload every couple of weeks. Once I get the bugs worked out of my digital interface...
- Creginald Vandercleve
Seattle, Washington
I'd write a response to this project, but I don't think I could put it better than Mary Shelley did: "I started from my sleep with horror; a cold dew covered my forehead, my teeth chattered, and every limb became convulsed; when, by the dim and yellow light of the moon, as it forced its way through the window shutters, I beheld the wretch—the miserable monster whom I had created. He held up the curtain of the bed; and his eyes, if eyes they may be called, were fixed on me. His jaws opened, and he muttered some inarticulate sounds, while a grin wrinkled his cheeks. He might have spoken, but I did not hear; one hand was stretched out, seemingly to detain me, but I escaped and rushed downstairs. I took refuge in the courtyard belonging to the house which I inhabited, where I remained during the rest of the night, walking up and down in the greatest agitation, listening attentively, catching and fearing each sound as if it were to announce the approach of the demoniacal corpse to which I had so miserably given life."--Mary Shelley, a woman cursed to only be able to speak in Metallica lyrics.
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