An "Artist Friendly" Video

I'm way down in the hole with Archimedes today, but check out this video by a pre-South Park Trey Parker and Matt Stone. It's 14 minutes long, but it's a stone riot and well worth your time. Instead of embedding this one, I'm referring you to Mark Evanier, since he gives it much-needed context.

Take it away, Mark.

Rob

And now, please stand

I listened to What's Going On today, but my mp3 player was playing the tracks out of order, so I had to keep consulting the CD jacket in order to get them right. So I took a few minutes to relabel the tracks to put them in their proper order, and since the CD was downstairs, I went to allmusic.com. While I was there, I spent a little time looking over Marvin Gaye's biography, and I read about this performance, singing the national anthem at the 1983 NBA All-Star Game. It's his last public appearance, and just sublime.

Enjoy.



Rob

Liar's Poker

Playing Nat’s game, her Thursday Thirteen. Thirteen of these things are true. One is a lie.

1. I knew a guy in high school who worshipped Thor. No, make that two guys.
2. I’ve got an ugly scar on my elbow from a skateboarding accident.
3. I like to add a little brown mustard to the classic tuna fish/mayo recipe.
4. The Flash is my favorite superhero, but Fables is my favorite comic.
5. I’ve got a tiny hole on the palm of my right hand that I can always peel skin away from. I call it my stigmata.
6. I saw a barracuda when snorkeling a few years ago.
7. My favorite Mel Brooks film is Young Frankenstein, but I’ve seen History of the World, Part I more often.
8. I’ve owned more ferrets than any other type of pet.
9. The trunk of my car leaks like it’s telling state secrets to Bob Novak.
10. I still haven’t removed two of our house’s window air conditioning units.
11. I prefer iced tea to just about any other drink. If it’s good iced tea, that is.
12. My parents considered naming me “Dean.” Or that’s what they once told me.
13. From where I’m sitting right now I can see two animal skulls.
14. Taj Mahal’s In Progress and Motion is probably the best CD box set I own, but Richard Thompson’s Watching the Dark comes close.

Any guesses?

Rob

One of US!

My baby really gets me. A Sin City boardgame, Marvin Gaye's What's Goin' On, and a DVD of Tod Browning's Freaks as birthday gifts? Man, does she get me.

Rob

Column A or Column B?

Thought you might need a palate cleanser after that Styx video. Here's some live Eric Schwartzy goodness, with some help from his friends. Funny stuff.



Rob

Biting my nails...

I just switched over to Blogger Beta. Expect to see a few changes around here as I spruce the place up a bit. But right now I'm mostly hoping I can still do all the things I used to be able to.

Rob

UPDATE: Okay, one change right now. See this label underneath my post? Click it and it'll select similar posts. I'm going to eventually go back and label old posts, but I took care of a bunch of recent ones already. I've always wanted this capability, ever since I first learned to ride a bike.

UPDATE UPDATE: Man, I'm loving this. I've got about 100 posts catalogued.

Can't.... look... away...

In the comments below, Chris expressed an interest in getting "fair and balanced" with the Kilroy controversy, and letting Dr. Righteous have his due. The video for Styx's "Heavy Metal Poisoning" is a bit more lively than the "Mr. Roboto" video, but no less creepy. As I was seeing Dr. Righteous lurk over that poor kid, I couldn't help but think of Mark Foley.

Which made what came next all the more horrible.

So here it is, another reason to pluck out your eyes and feed them to snakes:



I warned you.

Rob

Habeas Corpse

Keith Olbermann on the death of Habeas Corpus. Funny on the surface, heartbreaking at its core.



Rob

Mira. Escuche.

Spanish is the language of the kitchens in New York, and possibly all over. I read that in Anthony Bordain’s terrific memoir Kitchen Confidential, and it certainly is true wherever I stop to get breakfast on my way to work.

And it makes me happy. The other day, I was buying a sandwich at a bodega. I brought my sandwich (bag o’ chips and can o’ cream soda included) to the counter, where two people were ringing things up on the cash registers. My sandwich wasn’t wrapped quite right, so my cashier rewrapped it—but not before getting the other one’s attention to show him how it’s done. “Mira,” she said. Look.

Both of these people were Korean. But they were still using Spanish to communicate. I love this country, this city—anywhere that lets cultures mix it up and surprise me.

The next time you’re getting lunch, escuche. Listen.

Rob

Arrgh! That Purple Jumpsuit!

Thinking about the 80s, I stumbled across the Batman TV show of music videos: Styx's "Mr. Roboto." What strikes me most about watching it now is how little the other band members are in this. I think as a kid, I thought they were in the Mr. Roboto suits, but those were probably dancers. Or derelicts. Or even genuine racial-stereotypotrons imported from Japan. I think any of those possibilities is more likely than Dennis DeYoung convincing JY and the other guys to carry him around like a group of robot cheerleaders.

A word of warning. You're really only gonna want to watch this once.



Rob

Yes, I Completely Forgot The Police

Another Tell It To Me Tuesday, another Tuesday when I’m Telling It:

First off, I should mention what’s apparent to anyone who knows us: I’m not as cool as my wife. While she was listening to all sorts of new wave and off-the-beaten-path music in the 80s, I was listening just around the edges of what everyone else was listening to.

Also, I didn’t stop listening to my 70s bands when the odometer flipped on the decade. Hell, I just started listening to my own music around 78-79, and the Cars were just getting started. But I’m not listing any of them here, just the same (well, aside from one cheat*).

So here they are – my top 10 eighties bands, in no particular order.

1. Joe Jackson: I lied about no particular order. This guy rules my musical Olympus. Like Zeus, he changes from rock to classical to jazz to a swan. Unlike a lot of artists, he’s not making the same album over and over – each one is a brand new experience. And if I still think Look Sharp! is his best album, it’s no reflection on him or his talents: it’s just that I was 14 when I heard it, and it makes me feel like I’m fourteen wanting to be nineteen every time I’ve heard it since. I play this loud in my car every summer.

2. Elvis Costello: Okay, everyone seemed to put Elvis Costello in the 70s lists, and I couldn’t figure out why (and was too lazy to look him up). Turns out My Aim is True was released in 1977 and I’m a total wanker for not knowing that. I first heard him in the 80s, playing a cassette of that album over and over again on the way to the beach with my friends Mike, Anita and Evelyn. It sounded so fresh to me I thought it was brand new. Since it’s too late to shoehorn him into his proper decade (not that he didn’t produce some great work in the 80s), I’m putting him here.

I’ve gotta make these shorter.

3. Cyndi Lauper: I like her more in retrospect than I did at the time, I have to admit. You really never knew what she was going to say or do next. She bop? And she put Steve Forbert in her first video!

4. Steve Forbert: Yeah, there’s “Romeo’s Tune” (or, as it’s better known, the “Meet Me in the Middle of the Day Song"), but Forbert is an amazing songwriter that gets less than a hundredth of the acclaim he deserves. Alive on Arrival is a great album, but his Streets of this Town wasn’t a bad way to close out the decade. “The nineteen seventies was ten long years, ten long years to sing a song. It kicked off madly with a New Year's cheer. I blinked once and it was gone.” I like Steve so much he bumped the Talking Heads. Someone cooler’n me will have to pick up the slack.

5. Nik Kershaw: Everyone I’ve ever met with whom I’ve talked about Nik Kershaw is amazed that someone else remembers Nik Kershaw. I listened to Human Racing until the heads on my walkman wore down – and even loved the awful songs (like “Cloak & Dagger”).

6. Rick Springfield: Now here’s a guy who doesn’t get enough credit. A friend of mine (hey Chris!) made up a compilation cassette of his hits (way more than you remember) and lesser known songs a few years after his star had faded a bit. Without the glimmer of being an MTV darling, two things are clear: one, the man knew his way around a hit record, and two, he had a vocabulary that wouldn’t quit. I still can’t hear the word “acquiesce” without thinking of him, and those two souls, looking for heaven, rolling the dice, looking for a seven.

7. Men at Work: These guys are well-known for their goofy songs like “Down Under,” but I don’t think they get enough credit for the poignance that many of their tunes have. Not just the better-known stuff like “It’s a Mistake,” but odd little tunes like “Helpless Automaton” struck me as having an emotional core, even if it’s about a kid who thinks he’s a robot.

8. Weird Al: On the other hand, Weird Al just goes for the goofy, and he’s still remarkably good at it. The eighties were his heyday, but he hasn’t missed a step. (And parody is a much tougher job now that the Top 40 has splintered into a dozen or more different charts.)

9. Violent Femmes: When I first heard this band in high school, I had no idea anyone else had ever heard of them—let alone what kind of touchstone their first album would be for my generation. Resolutely antiglamorous, it kicks the holy crap out of Duran Duran.

10. The Clash: In the eighties, I really just knew “Rock the Casbah” and “Train in Vain.” I was an ignorant laddie. I don’t care if it was released in 1979, London Calling is one of the best albums ever, and it makes the list. Wrong ’em, boyo.

11. Chris DeBurgh: A guilty pleasure. Before hitting the lottery on “The Lady in Red,” DeBurgh wrote much cooler stuff than how much he really really really loves you. He had songs about vampires (“Ecstasy of Flight”), stranded boats (“Ship to Shore”), the Cold War (“Borderline,” “Moonlight and Vodka”) and, of course, the journey to the land of the dead (“Don’t Pay the Ferryman.”) And then “The Lady In Red” happened and he suddenly forgot he grew up watching Dark Shadows and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. Ah, well.

That’s eleven. Whaddya think, sirs?

Rob
*I lied about the cheat. The Traveling Wilburys didn't make the cut.

Get Back To Where You Once Belonged

Sharon's back at The Center of New Jersey Life, so go visit her. Consequently, my drivel will once again be confined to these pages.

Rob

Hic!

I had the hiccups something fierce after lunch. But Paul Harris's guaranteed hiccup remedy made them go away on the first try.

I don't know about guaranteed, but I can report that it worked for me.

Rob
(Cross-posted at The Center of New Jersey Life.)

Stupid AND Stubborn

Looks like we may be getting a second helping of Brownie:

President Bush reserved the right to ignore key changes in Congress's overhaul of the Federal Emergency Management Agency -- including a requirement to appoint someone with experience handling disasters as the agency's head -- in setting aside dozens of provisions contained in a major homeland security spending bill this week.

And we've got 28 more months of following this fool down whatever blind alley he wants to lead us.

Rob

Clockworks Broken Down

I'm sorry to hear that the production of A Clockwork Orange I mentioned here has been postponed. I'm not sure what happened; the mailing list I'm on said the production was dealt a "sudden and temporarily debilitating blow." I have high hopes that the show will go on in mid to late winter.

Rob

Innuendo?

Hoo!

Rob

Great Moments in Class Clownery

I was thirteen or fourteen, and the first congressional page sex scandal of my lifetime – the one back in 1982-83 – was still fresh in everybody’s mind. We were on a field trip with our gifted studies class – to Hawk Mountain, I think, but I could be wrong. (I do know that our teacher loved birdwatching, so fitting some biology and ecology into the curriculum in a way that would let her glass the skies was right up her alley.)

It was a lengthy bus ride, and we were high school kids, so we were loud and rowdy pretty much the whole way up. As we approached the mountain’s education center, Dr. Taylor handed out study sheets while we kept talking. Finally she said sternly to quiet us down: “For the next ten minutes, I don’t want to hear anything but the sounds of pages.”

And the guy who shouted “Oh! Oh! Mister SENATOR!” and cracked everyone up? That was me.

Hell, I made the teacher laugh at that one.

Rob

The Crustacean Speaks!

Bill West, voice of Dr. Zoidberg (and so many other characters on Futurama and a zillion other shows) was on the Paul Harris radio show the other day. I love hearing interviews with voice actors -- you never know who's gonna pipe up next. Go listen.

Rob

Rockin' the Paradise

I’m really busy, but here are my Top 10 1970s artists. Don’t let Janet say I never told her anything.

1. Styx. My absolute favorite band of the era, cheese and all. They had a hopeful grandiosity that was exactly what I needed in junior high. All hail to the Lords of the Ring!
2. Elton John. Don’t go beyond the seventies, but Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, Tumbleweed Connection and Madman Across the Water are crazy good – and all in different ways.
3. David Bowie. Ashes to ashes, funk to funky. The sleazy, sideways world he created endlessly fascinates.
4. Laura Nyro. Man, she could write, and she’d change the meter of her songs at the drop of a hat. Eli & the Thirteenth Confession was the freshest thing I’d ever heard for a while – and I’d first heard it in 1988.
5. Eagles. Yeah, everyone loves to hate the Eagles, but I wore my Hotel California cassette down to ribbons, and so did you. They called it paradise, I don’t know why.
6. Todd Rundgren. A wizard. A true star. A local guy made mindblowingly good.
7. Hall & Oates. Yeah, two more locals. I’m not talking about “Private Eyes” or anything after, I’m thinking of Abandoned Luncheonette and Bigger Than the Both of Us. That first side of Abandoned Luncheonette still holds up great. (Side 2 is self-indulgent as hell, but there ya go.) Oates should sing more.
8. The Cars. The music of my cousins, and it had me from groove one. Just what I needed.
9. Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers. Another band I first heard from my cousins. Petty’s “Refugee” had me utterly baffled and transfixed.
10. Joni Mitchell. Again, I didn’t hear a lot of her work until later, and I’ve still got a lot to explore. But Court and Spark is still a dart to the heart, and I listened to Blue maybe a million times on one of the longest nights of my life.
11. Steely Dan. This one goes to 11, because nothing says glorious excess like the Dan. So many of their songs are like seeing something pornographic out of the corner of your eye. A mix of temptation and the art of the con.

Rob

Profiles in Courage

Firedoglake reports that NRCC head Tom Reynolds, hip-deep in the Foley scandal, decided to hold a press conference today with a whole mess o’ kids, apparently to keep reporters from asking him uncomfortable questions.

Check out this classic exchange:

Reporter: Congressman, do you mind asking the children to leave the room so we can have a frank discussion of this, because it's an adult topic. It just doesn't seem appropriate to me.

Reynolds: I'll take your questions, but I'm not going to ask any of my supporters to leave.

[…]

Reporter: Who are the children, Congressman? Who are these children?

Reynolds: Pardon me?

Reporter: Who are these children?

Reynolds: Well, a number of them are from the community. There are several of the "thirtysomething" set that are here and uh I've known them and I've known their children as they were born.

Reporter: Do you think it's appropriate for them to be listening to the subject matter though?

Reynolds: Sir, I'll be happy to answer your questions, I'm still, uh…

"Hey, I'm not saying you can't ask your questions. Fire away. Don't mind the fragile sensibilities of innocents or anything." Sheesh.

I think the bet part is the question: "Who are these children?" It gives the impression that he never even mentioned why there were there, he just was ready to duck behind them for cover. Sorry, buddy. A +2 bonus to AC isn't gonna make that much of a difference in this one.

Rob

Hey Droogies!

So, sleepy though I am, I promised another post about an upcoming New Jersey happening, and I want to deliver. Besides, this looks like a lot of fun.

From October 26 through November 4, the Raconteur bookstore in Metuchen is presenting a staged version of Anthony Burgess’ A Clockwork Orange. Directed by Alex Dawson, the play stars Michael Nathanson, and will be a stylistic departure from the Stanley Kubrick film (which I own on DVD but still haven’t seen – gotta do it before opening night!). Costumes are by fashion designer Anu Susi, and the press release says she “abandons the sleazy seventies vibe of Kubrick’s film for a sort of banged-up, industrial elegance: Victorian suits with goggles, massive buckled boots and, of course, the iconic bowler.” It’s a Steampunk Clockwork Orange, and I couldn’t be more intrigued.

The show is appropriate for ages 16 and up. I’m reproducing the nuts and bolts of the press release:

Oct 26 – Nov 4.
With shows on Mischief Night and Halloween!
Preview: Thurs 8pm (pay what you can!)
Fri 8:00pm/ Sat 8:00pm & 11:30pm/ Mon 8:00pm/ Tues 8:00pm/ Thurs 11:30am/ Fri 8:00pm/ Sat 8:00pm.

Tickets: $15 (student/senior/artist); $25 (general)

Tickets available in advance at both The Forum Theatre and The Raconteur (431 Main Street, Metuchen).
For reservations contact Alex at raconteurbooks@aol.com or 732.906.0009

Special weekday matinee for high schools: 11:30 am, Thurs. Nov 2
Q & A with cast and crew followed by a short discussion of the philosophical implications of Burgess' relevant fable.

I don’t know what night Kathy & I are going, but we’re not going to miss it.

Rob
(Cross-posted at The Center of New Jersey Life.)

Schecter 3:16

Too busy for a proper post right now (one on an upcoming NJ event is coming tonight), but I thought you might like to see Dem strategist Cliff Schecter lay down the smack on MSNBC. He lists the current Republican scandals with such speed and glee that it's like listening to Adam McNaughton's "Three-Minute Hamlet."

So yeah, it's a political talk show, the equivalent of professional wrestling for political junkies. But Schecter's litany is like a spinning headlock elbow drop.*

Rob

*I think; I had to go to Wikipedia for a list of wrestling moves, but that one sounded sufficiently terrifying.
(Cross-posted at The Center of New Jersey Life.)

Press 3 For Link

The Bastard speaks of a workplace adventure. And Lo, I shall make a cameo.

Rob

empeethree of the week

Those of you who are parents (aside from you, Mom) will probably love this song by Hammell on Trial. But you’ll love it a lot less if you listen to it in front of your kids. I don’t usually put parental warnings on things, but to not put one on this would kind of defeat the purpose. So, without further ado: “Inquiring Minds”.

Rob
(Via Atrios)

Down So Low

For all my low opinion of Republican politicians, I'm genuinely shocked that some of them, including the House Speaker Dennis Hastert (IL) and Majority Leader John Boehner (Ohio), as well as the Chairman of the National Republican Congressional Committee Tom Reynolds (NY), have been covering up for a sexual predator. Not in a million years would I have expected them to do this. Oh, and let's throw in Reps. Rodney Alexander (LA) and John Shimkus (IL), making it an even five congressman involved in this coverup.

That's beyond unreal. And beyond vile.

Rob

Buzzworthy Vid

The always-wise KTBuffy is right: This video kills. Okay, back to work for me.

Rob

Double Duty

By the way, I'm guest-hosting at The Center of New Jersey Life this week. (I'm David Brenner to Sharon's Johnny Carson.) Check it out.

Rob

China's Funniest Home Videos

Twenty-four seconds of fun with mama and baby panda.



Actually, I was searching for video on the nine new baby pandas and found this clip instead.

Rob

Refreshing change

Here's something, at least, Sally -- the Weird Al video for "White and Nerdy."

Word.



Rob

With Apologies to my Sister

Sally, I *promise* I'll have something funny to post tonight. But this Kieth Olberman commentary, sparked by Clinton's interview last weekend, shouldn't be ignored.



But yeah, I need to lighten up. It's just tough to do when I think about this stuff.

Rob

Virginia Senate, Race

Another video testimony that George Allen is lying about his racist past.

As a New Jersey resident, there's not a whole lot more I can do than talk about this. But he's a racist. And polls say he's winning.

This woman seems very credible to me.



Rob

Into the Abyss

We’re throwing away the very freedoms we’re fighting for.

Here’s Ed Kilgore at NewDonkey.com:

“…it appears the US Senate is going to enact legislation today on treatment of terrorist suspects--virtually all of them, of course, Muslims--that will give a fresh bit of ammunition to jihadist efforts to convince their co-religionists that the United States considers them unworthy of any significant legal or moral self-restraint. This "compromise" bill, apparently worked out on the back of an envelope, and motivated almost entirely by domestic political considerations, might theoretically do some good someday, in some hypothetical case of a terrorist suspect with knowledge of a catastrophic attack. Nobody really knows. But what we do know for a fact is that by officially sanctioning some forms of torture, and denial of judicial oversight, this legislation will have a real, tangible and continuing negative impact on how our country is viewed by many millions of people whose good opinion of us has become a major strategic objective.”

And here’s Josh Marshall at Talkingpointsmemo.com:

“In essence, it means that the entire criminal justice system in this country becomes discretionary in the hands of the president.

You have the protection of the courts and due process. Until that gets too sticky, in which case the president can pull you out of the court system and detain you forever with no recourse to anything but the president's mercy.”

And here’s Glenn Greenwald on what changes by it being legislation, and not merely some wrongheaded executive order:

“There is a profound and fundamental difference between an Executive engaging in shadowy acts of lawlessness and abuses of power on the one hand, and, on the other, having the American people, through their Congress, endorse, embrace and legalize that behavior out in the open, with barely a peep of real protest. Our laws reflect our values and beliefs. And our laws are about to explicitly codify one of the most dangerous and defining powers of tyranny -- one of the very powers this country was founded in order to prevent.”

When did we get so weak?

Rob

These Are the Times That Try Men's Trolls

Well, it doesn't look like Jill Hazelbaker will be fired for trolling BlueJersey for Tom Kean Junior after all. But seriously, does anyone think that posting messages on a liberal blog is a wise use of her time? Kean really should show her the door.

In the end, it mostly goes to show what Junior thinks of as an appropriate use for his money. Imagine what he'd do with our money.

Let's keep this clown out of office, shall we?

Rob

Because I’m loving the YouTube

A few music clips from YouTube to enjoy. Here’s a pretty straightforward one of Jimmy Webb and friends performing “In the Jailhouse Now,” which was on the O Brother Where Art Thou? soundtrack. It’s a great song, and this clip (from Hee Haw, maybe?) is just a short glimpse of a few guys who like singing. Nothin’ wrong with that.



And for something completely different, this one’s a clip that I can’t stop watching – Bob Dylan performing his song “Isis” from the Rolling Thunder Revue tour of 1975. He’s in creepy white makeup for some reason, but the real draw for me (besides the sheer energy of the performance) is the different, punchier tone from the album version. It’s been a couple of years since I discovered this song, and I love it more every time I hear it.



It’s hard to believe these songs are even played on even remotely the same instruments, isn’t it?

Rob

Scents and Sensibility

Janet at The Art of Getting By asked what our favorite scents are, and which ones (beyond the obvious) would we rather not smell. So I thought I’d stick my nose in.

I make jambalaya only once or twice a year. But when it’s cooking, the kitchen fills up with this smell that’s pure heaven. Cayenne, cumin, black and white peppers, gumbo file, all combined with sizzling ham and kielbasa chunks and the holy trinity of bell peppers, onions and celery. That’s a smell.

Then again, I also love the smell of pork loin in the slow cooker, creeping its way toward a pulled pork sandwich.

Cooking pig in general, I guess. Nothing smells so good when it cooks as pork.

As for bad smells, well, there’s the smell of the oil refineries around 76 and I-95 in Pennsylvania. It always bugged me that the only way to get out of the airport was to drive through them. “Welcome to Philly! Now old your breath for the next five minutes.” It’s a hell of a first impression.

But the smell that knocks me out more than any other these days is the smell of the olive bars in supermarkets. I don’t know what it is—the olives, the stuffed grape leaves, whatever—but that’s a stench that can knock me over. And yet sometimes I must venture into it. The things I endure for fresh hummus.

Rob

UPDATE: For some reason, ferrets seem to have a different odor when they're drowsy. Sleepy Ferret Smell is a good smell indeed. It's like a yawn for the nose.

Shatnerrific!

I found this on Mark Evanier's site; I know you'll enjoy it.



Rob

Woo-hoo!

GOP-backed Green candidate/distraction off PA Senate ballot.

Rob

What What What????

Y'know, it always surprises me when someone who's inventive and creative enough to come up with funny words like "macaca" turns out to be racist. What's this world coming to?

Rob
(P.S.: Man, am I having fun with clip art. Whee!)

Not at all--pardon me!

Whaddya know?

Turns out that mixed in with the torture legislation that's being discussed in congress--you know, the debate that surrenders moral authority for a false sense of expediency, yeah, that's the one--there's a provision tucked away that pardons Bush and his cronies in case any of this turns out to be illegal. What's he worried about, being thrown in jail and not even being told what evidence we have against him? Silly goose. That'd never happen here!

Oh, wait. I'm sorry, I forgot who was king for a minute.

Rob

You might notice

a few more names on the ol' blogroll. I updated the friends list, as well as added a handful of comics blogs down below. I don't have time to post about 'em now, but if you're in an exploring mood, you might want to check one or two of 'em out.

Then again, if you're in an exploring mood, your ass is probably outdoors on this lovely day.

Rob

The Challenge

I just got a fundraising email from moveon.org that said "You've been challenged by Barack Obama!"

My first thought: "Is some sort of Pokemon thing?"

Rob

Leon Alert!

I'm a little too busy to post extensively, but I wanted mention that Leon got two more searches today -- one from Ontario and another from Madrid. This interplanetary rascal has gone international!

So, without further ado, behold:



Leon, the Most Popular Jawa on Tatooine.

Respect the hood.

Rob

This Is Sparta.

No idea how long this is going to be up, but Movies for the Masses has a three-minute trailer for the film of Frank Miller's 300.

Watch.

Rob

More Trolly Goodness

Bluejersey.com has a great rundown of the Kean Troll's latest lies to cover up her trolling. Come one, come all! See the Amazing Dancing Skunk!

Rob

Troll Trackin'

Sharon pointed this out, but I have to chime in with links of my own. The Star-Ledger and a New York Times blog, The Empire Zone, have picked up on the Kean troll story. From her "I don’t blog and it wasn’t me. Period." statement, it looks like Ms. Hazelbaker is still in the Denial stage of spin, shifting subtly toward Anger. Soon we'll get to Bargaining ("I'll get you an interview if you just shut up about the trolling..."), Depression ("Sigh... I used to have a career...") and Acceptance ("Since I've got all this free time on my hands, I might as well stay on the BlueJersey site and start flamewars!") It'll be fun to see how this goes.

The big question: How quickly do Internet trolls regenerate?

Rob

Postcards from the Edge

More about Kean staffers: A Philly Inquirer article reported that one member of his campaign team, Christopher Lyon, “once sent out thousands of anonymous post cards and automated phone calls accusing a New Hampshire candidate's wife of being in an orgasm cult.”

This is more than just a typical sleazy Republican tactic. It’s worse…far worse.

These monsters are dangling the hope that there’s an orgasm cult out there somewhere. That’s just mean.

Rob
(I found this link in the comments of the bluejersey.net story below.)

Dirty Trix

Using IP-tracking, bluejersey mods have uncovered that campaign staffers for Kean Junior are trolling bluejersey.com, leaving comments pretending to be disaffected Dems unhappy with Menendez. Silly Rabbits. Save it for the Newsarama boards so you can complain that Grant Morrison’s Batman run is getting some fill-in issues*. This is strictly amateur hour, desperation stuff.

Rob
*By John Ostrander and Tom Mandrake! Yay!

So Very Wrong

Cool it, Robin!

Rob
(Thanx for the laugh, Devon!)

The Second Seal

Arrr.. it be Talk Like a Piarate Day, sure it is -- but I thought it twere Talk Like a Pirate Day yesterday, which made me seem a manatee's arse, indeed. So thar be no pirate seal on this day. Instead, I present a more frequent o' celebratory seals:



Ook ook, indeed, yar.

Rob

Turntable Tuesday

It’s Tuesday, and I, like you, should be telling it to Janet. Today she wants to know: What are the best albums you know of that no one has heard?

I’ve got a few.

1. Graham Parker: Struck By Lightning. From “She Wants So Many Things,”the epic opening song about the most demanding girlfriend ever, all the way through to the cautiously hopeful “The Sun Is Gonna Shine Again,” Graham Parker puts it all together in this album I’ve bought from the discount racks at least twice. It’s one of my desert island discs. It’s got everything I want on an album – cynicism, black wit, and yet a really open heart in places (“Wrapping Paper”, “Strong Winds”). From “And It Shook Me”:

Well we hold on and hope our grip don't fail
Sometimes lovers hammer in their own coffin nails
I just read how universes start, but generally they blow apart
And it shook me
and I'm still shaking now.

2. Van Morrison: Veedon Fleece. Yeah, everybody knows Moondance. And they should—it’s a hell of an album. But Veedon Fleece is a sweet little secret among Morrison fans. You don’t know any of the songs – although “Bulbs” is up there with his ebullient best – but the desolate “Streets of Arklow” is incredible, and its follow-up, “You Don’t Pull No Punches, But You Don’t Push the River,” has that incredible stream-of-consciousness power that you just can’t capture in lyrics. The album is a coherent whole, with threads (and Poe and Blake references) running from song to song. And then there’s “Comfort You,” a song that’s so sweet, and so simple, that it makes my heart leap out of my chest whenever I hear it:

I wanna comfort you
I wanna comfort you
I wanna comfort you
Just let your tears run wild
Like when you were a child

I'll do what I can do
I wanna comfort you
You put the weight on me
You put the weight on me
You put the weight on me

And finally, an album people may have listened to way back when, but was new to me a couple of years ago:

3. Al Jarreau: We Got By. I saw a rerun of SNL a while back where Jarreau sang the title song to this album, and I thought: “THIS is Al Jarreau? The Moonlighting guy?” His performance absolutely floored me, and the album captures it. It’s funky, soulful, inventive and sexy (I loved sweet potato pie before I ever heard him sing about it, but I love it more now). I’ll wrap up with these lyrics from the title track:

Winter wishes wait till June
We brightened July with that hot dog fun
Tell your mama you're with Sue
You bring the beans and I'll find the wine
Them neon lights were bright till two
And sneaking back home with this girl named Jo
I hurried down to say “I do"
And stared my first man-child in the eye

So much of this song is in the delivery – and the last verse is this surprising torrent of words Jarreau sings with such commitment that I really can’t reproduce it here. It’s one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard.

Rob

Do You Know This Jawa?

I'm just asking because, for months now, someone has been inexplicably clicking on my blog after finding a link on my site way back when to an image of this Jawa, whom I hereby christen Leon, The Most Popular Jawa on Tatooine. I mean, he must be. Which is why I've brought him back for an encore performance.


Leon.

He is the jawa you're looking for.

Rob

The Seventh Seal, Minus Six

It's about time this blog had an official seal, don't ya think?

Here's my first try.



Thanks to Alan M. of the Captain Comics board, and his own excellently-named blog, Chronicide.

Rob

Had Enough

Just listen to this man speak.



Barack Obama. Just fantastic.

Rob

Temper, Temper...

Hee!

Is it wrong of me to get a thrill—a genuine, electric charge—whenever Li’l Ricky Santorum loses his temper? I know it’s sick…but is it man-on-dog sick, or just a healthy helping of schadenfreude?

Because this brings me joy, no denying it. Oh, it do, it do.

Rob
(Via Atrios.)

Six Years of Thumbscrews

TPM Reader DK on the latest stain on our country's history, the torture debate in Congress:

I am beyond being able to assess the political implications, one way or the other, of this spectacle. Regardless of which version of the bill finally passes, this debate is a black mark on the soul of the nation. Of course passage of a pro-torture bill will diminish U.S. standing internationally and jeopardize the safety and well-being of U.S. servicemen in future engagements. But merely having this debate has already accomplished that. Does anyone honestly believe that if Congress rebuffs the President in every respect that the rule of law and the inviolability of human rights will have been vindicated? Of course not.

The Republicans have defined deviancy down for the whole world, including every two-bit dictator and wild-eyed terrorist.

We have to take our country back.

Rob

Neil Gaiman looks at the TSA

...but first, the cool news I heard on Penn's show. From what I could tell, he's working on the writing of a movie with Neil Gaiman. Which would put me in full-on nerd heaven. IMDB doesn't have anything that with both of them, but it could be that Penn isn't co-writing, but working as a consultant. In which case, 2006's Books of Magic (I had no clue they were making it!) movie might fit the bill.

But on to Neil's great post about the new anti-liquid TSA restrictions. Crazy world, ain't it?

Rob

Hallelujah

You might not think of me as a guy who has a favorite gospel bluegrass song. You’d be wrong.

Thanks to The Rose Garden for pointing this out.

Rob

Case Closed

Just in case you were wondering what a graphic that says "Do Not Put Your Baby In The Gun Case" looks like, here it is:


Never confuse a baby with a firearm. One gets really heavy after you carry it for a while and shoots dangerous stuff out of one end. The other gets really heavy after you carry it for a while and shoots dangerous stuff out of both ends. Why is this so hard to remember?

Rob

And lest I bring you down...

May I present the theme to Star Wars on a banjo.



If they should bar wars, please let these stay...

Rob

A beautiful night.

We never mentioned what day it was, or what we were doing five years ago. We’re good friends, old friends, and we’ve talked about it all before, and increasingly again these past few weeks as the anniversary loomed and the news coverage increased. We dined on all the sushi we could eat, drank a little saki and berry wine, and talked mostly about old times. And then, stuffed to the gills with sushi, we walked around the city.

People traveled in groups of twos and threes, some of them wanderers like us, others walking with purpose. As we neared Times Square, the crowd thickened, as is usual. A screen curled the words “We will never forget” around a bank. Across the street, a line of fans curled around the block, preparing to wait out all night for a Justin Timberlake CD signing. A man tried his best to play “America the Beautiful” on a steel drum, but it was obvious that it wasn’t in his normal repertoire. And looking south, two high-intensity spotlights shone up into the night.

We knew what night it was. No one needed flags, banners or a presidential visit to remind them. But it wasn’t a vigil; it wasn’t solemn. It was just people doing what they do, an unconscious testament to resilience.

Rob

Five Years Ago

I can't tell you how scared I was on September 11th. I can't express the dread with which I looked to the skies. I don't even know how much I cried that day, and for days afterward.

But I can tell you that the next day, when phone lines were back up, I called my dad. We weren't able to make sense of any of it, but we were there for each other. And I'd go through all those horrible feelings again to have one more phone call with him.

I remember visting him in the hospital soon afterward. We watched the footage on one news show or another -- they were still running 24 hours then. Most of all, I was glad he was there for me when the world broke apart, but sorry that he ever saw things come to this.

I can't say I'm happy I saw it, either. But we get through, day after day, and we bear the public and private hurts the only way we can...by moving forward. By living. By learning. By not forgetting, but by remembering with a little more distance every time.

It's been five years since September 11, and almost that long since my father died. Where will I be in ten years? Where will you?

Pick a destination and start walking. I'll meet you there.

Rob

Baby, if you've ever wondered...

The intrepid Clark Kent DC at the Captain Comics Forums has uncovered the secret to one of life's great mysteries: What the hell are they singing during the WKRP end credits?

First of all, take a listen. Just hearing that again brings back memories. Man, I miss that show.

Next, once you've satisfied yourself that no way are you ever in a million years gonna have the slightest idea what the mush-mouthed singer is belting out, check out this transcription. It makes about as much sense as could be expected, I suppose.

Thanks, CK, and especially to you, transcriber extrordinaire T.E. Ackerson! Now get to work on whatever Benicio Del Toro says in The Usual Suspects!

Rob

Government Pork? More like potato skins.

Rah, Rah! Sis Boom Bah!

The war profiteers at Haliburton throw a Super Bowl party on our dime.

Just a little reminder of why, when we kick the Repugs out of office, we should kick hard.

Rob

Sex, Death and the Spirit

I've been too busy to do this justice, but I wanted to direct your attention to the Nicole Maynard showing at the Bowery Gallery in New York. Nicole's a friend of mine, and her work never fails to provoke an emotional--visceral--response from me. Take a look at her website and online gallery to see for yourself, but understand that there's no way that the pixels on your screen are going to convey the intensity of feeling you get with the works hanging right in front of you.

The ones that really hit me yesterday were "Loss," "The Veil," "Eve and the Snake Goddess" and one simply called "Eve" which isn't posted in the online gallery. Nicole's paintings deal with religion, feminism, terrorism, war, hope and hopelessness -- and the intersection between them is always more complex than you might think.

I only wish I'd had more time to take them in yesterday; we left for other galleries, intending to return, but when we got back, the BG was closing up and our friends were pouring out. These paitings are always worth a second look -- they remind me that there are treasures hidden in skeletons, and skeltons hidden in all of us.

SharonGR has more.

Rob

Today's PSA

Courtesy of Licensable Bear.



The sad thing is, I know who first started using this hateful discrimination. No matter what they amount to, don't all numbers desrve a square deal?

Rob
(Via The Beat)

In Anticipation of an Anniversary

I’m waiting for the planes to tumble
Waiting for the skies to fall
I’m waiting for the cities to crumble
I’m waiting till I see you crawl

I was looking around for a new set of lines to put atop the blog, and found these. I’ve been listening to this song – Blackie and the Rodeo Kings’ recording of John Martyn’s “Don’t Want To Know” – and it consistently gives me chills. It’s a wonderful song, and if I quote the chorus, you’ll probably recognize it:

I don’t want to know about evil
I only want to know ’bout love

It’s really beautiful, almost like a prayer to me. It reminds me that there’s a stronger force out there than fear, but warns that fear itself makes it hard to look away.

Sometimes it gets so hard to listen
Hard for us to use our eyes
All around the cold is glistening
Making sure it keeps us hypnotized

It turns out that the song was written and first recorded by John Martyn in 1973. He had no idea the images that first verse would conjure 28 years down the road. (Incidentally, from what I can tell online, the lyrics are “waiting for the plains to tumble,” not planes.) It’s been recorded by quite a few people, including Richie Havens, Dr. John, and Beth Orton. The first time I heard it, I felt like I recognized it. The song sticks with you.

I don’t want to know one thing about evil
I only want to know ’bout love

If only.

Rob

Two Daysssss Left.

It’s pretty safe to say that Snakes on a Plane will be out of most theaters by the end of the week. And I don’t have time to write a long post about it. But if you’re looking for a dumb, fun action movie, this one is firing on all cylinders. Four of us went to see it Saturday night, and we came out giddy with adrenaline and action movie goodness.

See it with friends, of course – there’s no sense watching it alone. Snakes must be shared.

Rob

This Makes Me Sad

Harry Anderson is leaving New Orleans.

He should do what's right for him and his family, of course. But he always seemed to have the right spirit for the city, and I hate to think that spirit has been broken.

Good luck in Asheville, Harry.

Rob

Now I Know My ABCs

It’s Tuesday, so once again I’m telling it to Janet at The Art of Getting By. This week she asked for a memorable first day of school story.

So here it is – my introduction to the public education system, a story in which I am a smartass before I even knew how.

It’s my first day of kindergarten. The bell hasn’t rang yet, and I’m just waiting outside with all the other kids. (I find this hard to believe, now—I’d think my mom would be with me, at least, and everyone else’s moms would be with them. But apparently we were all, K through fourth-graders, standing outside the school alone, possibly unsupervised.)

An older kid comes up to me and pushes me against a wall. I’m terrified of him. I’m not a big kid, and he’s towering over me. He’s a second grader, I think. “What’s your name, kid?” he snarls. It’s a second-grader snarl, designed to instill fear and respect.

“Bobby,” I say. I try to make friends: “What’s yours?”

“Jay.” Now, I have no idea what he wants with me. Kindergarten was only half days, so I didn’t even have lunch money to extort. Most likely, he just wants to be seen as a big guy among his peers – although how pushing around a kid two years younger will accomplish this, I have no idea. But there he is, big tough guy. Jay.

And I start laughing, like he made a joke. “That’s not a name,” I said. “That’s a letter.” Jay’s no longer a tough guy. He’s some kind of comedian. He’s named after a letter! It’s a real knee-slapper to a 5-year-old. This guy kills me!

His friends have heard the exchange, and start laughing. Jay lets me go, flustered. I told him he’s named after a letter, and he’s got nuthin’. Not only did I never have any trouble with him again, but we later became friends through Indian Guides. I haven’t heard anything about him in years, though.

Maybe I should send him a letter.

Rob

My First Embedded Video! (Will It Work?)

I saw this cartoon at a sick and twisted animation festival in Baltimore years and years ago. And all I could remember was the name, which cracked me up. So I hereby present: "Jean-Jean and the Evil Cat." Thought you might like it.



Cheers!

(And in that spirit: check this out.)

Rob

This Just In: Trash Lover Has Gutter Mouth

First of all, apologies for ruining your childhoods.

I can't remember why, but for some reason the other day I saw a clip of Oscar the Grouch singing "I Love Trash." I think I was surfing around on YouTube, but who knows. Anyhow, I noticed something very curious as Oscar sang this verse:

I've a clock that won't work
And an old telephone
A broken umbrella, a rusty trombone
And I am delighted to call them my own!
I love them because they're trash!

He has a WHAT??

I didn't even think that was possible for a muppet.

Rob

Pop!

Courtesy of Doc Beechler at the Captain Comics board...

your Friday Bubble Wrap.

Thanks Doc!

Rob

33 Percent Chump

SO, last night, I’m hurrying out of work. I want to buy stamps if the post office is still open, I want to buy shoelaces because this morning the skin shed off the laces of my right shoe as I tried to tie it, and I want to catch my—

Smash!

I bump into this guy, a little hand-against-hand jostle, and just my luck, I knock a brown bag with a bottle in it out of his hand. I say “I’m sorry man,” and go to pick up the bottle, but it’s smashed and leaking all over the sidewalk.

“I don’t want your sorry, I want a new bottle,” he says. This guy’s a black man in his mid-to late forties, and he’s angry.

I don’t know what he’s drinking – it didn’t look like a beer, but it was a small bottle, maybe one of those little Jack Daniels drinks or a wine cooler, if they still make them. I ask him how much it was and he says “This is the good stuff -- four dollars.” I really do feel bad about getting between this guy and his snooter. So I look in my wallet and I’ve got a twenty and two singles.

“I’ve got two I can give you,” I say, but he’s having none of it.

“Two won’t buy me a new bottle,” he says.

“Look, man, I’ve gotta catch a train,” I say, offering him the two again.

“I’ll walk with you, and you’ll get me one,” he says, and he starts barreling down the street in my direction. At first he wants to go to this card and candy shop on Madison that I didn’t know sold liquor, but then we head over to a lottery ticket stand. I decide to get some change so I can give him four bucks and be quit of him.

And.

Some.

Guy.

Is.

Buying.

Every.

Lottery.

Ticket.

In.

New York.

I swear, it was like he was cornering the market on Powerball. If the only money in the kitty is yours, pal, it’s not winning, it’s just a bank.

So the guy, as impatient as I am, shouts “Anybody got change for a twenty?” I turn to a woman waiting in line – this guy’s making her as uncomfortable as he’s making me – and she looks through her money. “I’ve got $19.95.”

“Deal,” I say, handing her the twenty. I take her money, count out four singles for Drinky McSlipperyhands, and head off on my—

“Hey!” he shouts. “Four dollars ain’t gonna cut it!”

“You said it was four dollars,” I argue.

“I said it was twelve dollars,” he says. “It was the good stuff.” Which is bullshit, top to bottom.

“It was also half empty,” I say. “You’re getting four or nothing. Be happy with it. Because This Is Not My Problem.”

And I give him the four bucks, and he goes his way and I go mine. I’m a four-dollar chump, but there’s no way I’m gonna be a twelve-dollar chump.

Rob

The Lady Vanishes

Heard about this video on the Penn radio show. May I present Ursula Martinez, in a 5-minute striptease while performing a magic trick. Pretty much the essence of the art of misdirection. I'd warn you that this isn't kid- or work-friendly, but who am I to tell you what your child or boss should see?

Rob

Sleuth or Dare

Which TV detective would you want to take your case?

I think I’d have to go with Monk. There’s just no one currently on TV who gets to the truth of the matter like Adrian Monk. He’s got a great track record, and if you’re innocent, it just means putting up with his annoying habits for a while.

Then again, there are always Frank Pembleton or Kay Howard from Homicide: Life on the Street. No guarantees, but Frank’s amazingly good, and Kay is every bit as good and lucky, to boot. Then again, there’s Vic Mackey of The Shield. Chances are, he’ll be a bit preoccupied with covering his own ass, but if you’re looking for revenge, Vic’s your man. There’s no one who’ll bring the hammer down harder on evildoers, as long as he doesn’t have a piece of the action himself.

The TV detective I’d least like on my case is Dr. House. Sure, he pretty much always solves the case and cures the patient, but generally on Monk you don’t suffer acute system failure before the case is closed. Adrian’s clients vomit less blood, too.

Rob

We Are Not Descended From Fearful Men

Keith Olberman offered a stirring rebuke of Donald Rumsfeld's recent attempts to quell dissention (coincidentally enough, as an election is coming up). It runs about 6 1/2 minutes, and it's well worth watching.

Here's the video at Crooks and Liars.

Rob

Spelling Counts!

Okay, this totally cracked me up.

I was looking over what searches have brought people here, and the most recent one was shmale movie. I write about movies now and then, and that, combined with the post about Lakewood's "Yale Shmale" campaign down below, has apparently misled someone in search of hot shemale action.

Proofreed yur serches, guyz.

Hoo!

Rob

Vital Statistics

Okay, it’s another Tell it to Me Tuesday at The Art of Getting By, and Janet’s asked us to tell a story about our first crush.

Well, there’s not a whole lot of narrative to mine. Colleen was a smart, pretty, friendly girl, and I was a shy, geeky guy, and nothing every happened. End of story.

Except one day, me and my friend Joe (who also had a crush on her), were discussing her various attributes in the school library, as middle-school geeks were wont to do in those days of yore. Now, when I say “attributes,” you shouldn’t read anything lurid into it. Far from it. The conversation began when Joe said: “If you were to give Colleen three 18s, what would they be in?”

Yes, we were talking about her D&D stats.

I can’t believe I’m even telling you this. I am such a geek.

Well, Charisma and Intelligence were the two obvious choices. After all, we were bright guys who liked bright girls, and the charisma goes without saying if she caught our discriminating eyes, right? But where to put the third 18?

I said, “Dexterity,” which, it turns out, is what Joe was thinking, too. This seemed kind of profound to us back then.

But really, what were the other choices? Strength? Please. We weren’t exactly Olympic-level athletes, even in those halcyon days of puberty. Neither of us was looking for a girl who could bench-press even our scrawny bodies.

Constitution? That’s just a nice way of saying, “She can take a punch.” Pass.

And the only other option was Wisdom. And with an 18 Wisdom, she’d never have had anything to do with us.

Come to think of it…

Rob

Can This Man Defeat the Fantastic Four?

If it's an acting competition, there's no contest -- Andre Braugher can act rings around almost anybody.

In what will certainly be seen by some as a crazy waste of his talents, he's rumored to be in the second Fantastic Four movie -- turning down a recurring part on ER to do it. Frankly, I think a nice villain part could be just the sort of thing to remind people how good he is.

But while the film is subtitled "Rise of the Silver Surfer," I doubt he's playing ol' shinytrunks. I think the blog at Newsarama has it right -- he'll be playing Alicia Masters' dad, the nefarious Puppet Master.

And even though in every comic I've ever read the Puppet Master comes off like a chump, if anyone can instill the guy with menace, Braugher can.

Besides, it's a chance to see two of TV's greatest cops share a screen. How cool is that?

UPDATE: Sadly, it looks like Braugher will be playing a military general instead. Which is too bad -- it's hard to find a superhero movie where a general doesn't come off like a chump.

Rob

So's Yer Alma Mater!

Lakewood University in Canada is taking aim at Yale through its weakest link -- its alumnus who lives at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. Its "Yale Shmale" campaign, reported by the Toronto Star, features a picture of Bush's face on posters with the words:

"Graduating from an Ivy League university doesn't necessarily mean you're smart. Choosing Lakehead does."

Go Lakehead!

Rob

Duplicating Euclid

I’ve been researching a book on ancient mathematicians for a little while now. Aa few weeks ago found this huge, scholarly tome on Greek philosophers and thinkers at the New York Public Library. Make no mistake, the book is enormous. I can barely fit it in my laptop bag. But it’s got a few chapters that should really help me understand this stuff.

On the other hand, 90 percent of it is completely useless to me at this point. So, after lugging this bad boy home and reading the chapter on Pythagoras, I’ve dragged it back into work so I can photocopy chapters on Euclid and Greek mathematics in general. (I photocopied the Archimedes chapter on our printer/copier combo, but the book’s almost as big as the printer, and the whole operation was just plain awkward.)

Anyway, this photocopying chore reminded me of a time back when I was in middle school – probably around 6th grade – and I asked my dad to copy the monsters chart from the end of Dungeon Master’s Guide. The whole chart was cool, but what I really wanted was the experience point calculations on the far end of it. That way, my friends and I could look at our character sheets, see how many experience points we needed to make the next level, then look at the charts and decide “We need to kill a xorn!” And then we’d all go kill a xorn because the DM was accommodating – after all, he had characters in the group too. (We didn’t have a lot of players, and the system did keep us going up in level, so if you wanna complain, tell it to my 135^th-level magic-user. Yeah, you heard me.)

But what strikes me now is that Dad went and copied those 30-odd pages of charts for me at work. Remember, this was at a time when hardly anyone had ever heard of D&D, and some of those who had thought it was some form of devil worship. And I can picture Dad bringing this book to the photocopier and copying page after page of what can only have looked like utter nonsense for me. I mean, look at that cover! Boss or not, Dad must’ve had some explaining to do.

So thanks Dad. I’m dedicating my next xorn to you.

Rob

The 9900

I just noticed my blog counter hit 9,900. Exactly.

Which, if my math is right, is two and a quarter times 4400.

And, if my understanding of tv shows I've never seen is right, I could disappear all y'all and do experiments and poof! bring you back all at once in a big mysterious way--two and a quarter times over!

So you should probably look out if you wanna be safe.

Me? I'm goin' ta bed. When my mind starts working like this I need sleep.

Rob

Fest 2006

Some random memories from this year’s Philadelphia Folk Festival…

Fest stared out with some magic. Down at the bottom of the camp hill, a number of tents had sat in the sun for too long as people were setting up on Thursday. A gust started blowing, hit the tree line and swirled up, taking a few hot-air-filled tents with it. We watched them swirl and dance some hundred or so feet above us. I’m glad it didn’t happen to me (one tent landed high in some trees), but man was it cool to watch.

Some great music… Jackson Brown and David Lindley played a 2-hour concert on Saturday afternoon… saw great sets by the Avett Brothers, Canadian funny band Arrogant Worms (“We are the Beaver!”) … Shemekia Copeland brought the house down Sunday night with a jawdropping set… The Burns Sisters took a surprisingly political turn, doing such a great job with Leonard Cohen’s “Democracy” and “When Johnny Comes Marching Home” that I picked up their new album just to hear what they do with Steven Van Zandt’s “I Am a Patriot.”

There’s just great stuff all around at Fest. Every time you turn around, there’s a new band you’ve never heard of rocking you to the core. The two Hoots and Hellmouth sets I saw were amazing. They topped off they’re first one with a rousing “Everybody Must Get Stoned” (yeah, too lazy to look up the real Dylan title now) with labelmates Andrew Lipke and Matt Duke. Then the next day Gandalf Murphy and the Slambovian Circus of Dreams (no lie, that’s their name) joined H&H and the terrific slide-guitar player Natalia Zuckerman for a rock-your-ass-off version of “Angels We Have Heard On High” mixed with Them’s “Gloria.” It was probably my favorite moment of fest, fresh and inspiring and full of the impish glee that always comes when you mix the sacred and the sexy.

Then again, there was the guy who wandered into our camp and the song about Jesus’s brother, Craig – which I just discovered is a Stephen Lynch song that you can hear online.

Plus, we were camped near our traditional fest buddies Nick, Brian, Lisa and Joyce, but right up next to the Illegal Aliens group. We had a blast hanging out in the shade with Clare, Dee, Celeste and the gang. Even if we occasionally forgot all about the letter “n.”

Plus, wandering children who won’t go away and a deeply stoned woman who stumbles into camp and proceeds to spoil a bunch of movies we haven’t seen yet! Good times, good times.

Rob

Done Packing.

Fest now. See you Monday.

Rob

R.I.P. Bruno Kirby

I'm sorry to say that Bruno Kirby died today. He was an actor who could almost unfailingly make me laugh -- he had a true knack for playing a regular Joe. I don't think I'd ever seen him in a role I didn't enjoy, but the one that stands out for me was playing a pissed-off guy stalking Frank Pembleton on an episode of Homicide. And, of course, he completely sold us that someone would blurt out "Baby Fish Mouth" during a game of Pictionary.

Rest in Peace, Mr. Kirby. I'll miss seeing you around the edges, and the too-rare times you were in the spotlight.

Rob

World Trade Center

Note: I originally posted this as a comment on The Art of Getting By, but I’ve edited it a little so that it stands on its own.

I don’t really have any strong feelings about Oliver Stone’s World Trade Center. It’s just a movie – an artistic way of expressing an idea about a true event. But it’s not the event itself, and certainly any criticism or praise it gets should be about the movie on the screen, and not the reality around the theater.

I doubt I’ll see it. When I eventually see a movie about 9-11, I’m pretty sure it’ll be a documentary. A reenactment like this doesn’t interest me much.

One thing that might set me apart from the crowd: I don’t think the staff of the movie has any obligation, moral or otherwise, to donate part (or all!) of their paycheck to victim’s funds. They’re professional people. Like everyone I know, part of the reason they work is to get paid. And as professional people, they deserve to be paid.

Now, you may argue that some people in Hollywood get paid too much for the work they do. But it’s still work, and they’re getting paid what the market will bear. And I don’t see why Oliver Stone or Nicholas Cage should have to give up several months of pay, but the dolly grip or the best boy can pocket their earnings. And I certainly wouldn’t ask these crew members to give up the money they’re making to feed their families; I don’t think many people would. But both Cage and the grip are profiting; the only difference is degree.

Sure, it would be a nice gesture (and good PR) for Cage to make some donations or public appearances at survivors’ charities. And I think if the studio doesn’t devote some percentage of the profits to it, they’re fools. But if they make a film that people want to see, they certainly deserve to profit from their work.

What I think is necessary for their participation in the movie is that they believe in the project wholeheartedly. No matter where the money goes, what matters is what the movie says, and how firmly the people who made it believe it.

Rob

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn it.

Goodbye Sploid. I'll miss ya.

Rob

Flight Risk?

So. Last week there was a bit of news over in England. Some blokes got nicked for a terrorist plot. Thankfully, no one was hurt. But once again it’s going to change the way we travel.

From now on, no liquids (save baby formula, medicine and, I believe, our precious bodily fluids) will be allowed on board passenger airplanes. Which sucks for Jet Blue – apparently they had allowed passengers to bring cases of beer on board. And hey, it could be worse – for a while, at least, the Brits were allowing no carry-ons at all.

Of course, this is portrayed as the government leaping into action to prevent a terrorist threat. Except that this is hardly a new threat. The government knew about this particular plot for quite a while, all the while we were blissfully sipping the Snapples we toted into coach. And hell – mixing liquids on an airplane to generate a bomb? I came up with that idea myself, still gripped with fear, sometime around September 13, 2001. I remember seeing someone make napalm out of gasoline and detergent (or something) on a made-for-TV-movie in high school, and it stuck with me. And if I could think of it. I didn’t see any reason why bad guys couldn’t. And any reason (besides the guy at the top) why the government couldn’t either.

But aside from a swift action to make the TSA look busy, what will the ban accomplish? It’s tough to say. But it’s certainly gotten everyone acting jumpy. Which is the point of terrorism, by the way. They’re not called terrorists because they want to give us all ponies.*

What’s good is that knowledgeable people who are willing to voice a possibly unpopular opinion (and certainly one that could draw the patently unfair knee-jerk question “whose side are you on, ours or the terrorist’s?”) will speak up. It usually takes a few days for them to be heard, but they do get heard.

They say, “Hold on a minute. Don’t be scared, let’s think this through.” I hope, more often than not, I’m on the side of these people.

So, in that spirit, here’s a link to a conversation with Michael Boyd, who spoke with Paul Harris at KMOX about how the new TSA regulations are doing precious little to make us safer.

Rob

*Ponies and terror are almost mutually exclusive, with the exception of that scene in The Godfather.

Keeper Tunes

It’s Tuesday, so I’m telling it to Janet. What am I telling? The songs that I seem to be able to listen to again and again. That just won’t move off my MuVo, no matter what else I might want to put on it. And what are they?

Ah, that would be telling. Go see Janet; I’m in the comments section.

Rob

Fest on Google Earth!

This is where I'll be.

The southern part of the field is the campsite. The northeastern part is parking, and the northwestern part is the performing area. You can see the Main stage (the big white box near the trees), the Craft stage (to its right) the Tank stage (to its left) and the Camp stage (the white box just beyond that thick grove of trees). By Thursday, it'll be a sea of blue tarps.

Rob

Swampass B-Gone!

Ten Years.

I've been going to the Philadelphia Folk Festival, i.e. The Happiest Place on Earth, for 10 years. Since 1996, actually, making this my eleventh show. In a row.

On our first trip, Greg and I went on a Friday afternoon, parked a pup tent on the only place available -- a 45 degree slope to which Pythagoras would give a hearthy thumbs up -- and went to see some music. That night, it began to pour. The sort of rain that makes you want to trade your tent in for an ark. But under some trash bags, we perservered, and got to watch David Wilcox amazingly sing the rain away, first by appeasing it with a few rain-themed songs like his "Eye of the Hurricane" (which is really about a motorcycle, but the man loves a metaphor like I love cheese fries), and then by easing into some sun-centric music ("Sunshine on the Land," and "Here Comes the Sun" spring to mind. And even though it was pitch dark out, it worked. For the rest of the concert and some time after, the rain stoppped. Life was good. (True, it started again later that night after we'd sacked out. And when we woke up, or tent had slid about 50 feet toward closer to sea level. But still, that was a magic show.)

That's not the only time it's rained, of course. We danced like hell in that rain, listening to the Saw Doctors lay it down a few years ago. (I think that was Kathy's first fest -- so is that seven or eight? Jaysis.) And once we took refuge in a friend's cool-ass bus, and returned to the three-man tent to find water seeping in at ever seam.

But often -- very often -- it's just hot. Awful, sticky hot. Egg-fryin', chocolate-meltin' hot. Slow-cooked-barbecue hot. Re-entering Earth's Atmosphere hot. And it doesn't have to be nearly that hot for me to sweat like I'm in the heart of the sun.

So, after ten years, I did what any sensible human being would have done after one. I bought a shower!

A nice camp shower you can see right here. Now, I know it won't keep me clean. It won't keep me half clean, to be perfectly honest. This is camping after all, and I'll be living among the dirt and the bugs and the old folkies and nuveau-hippies and granola chix. But there's gonna be a moment or two every day, when a certain 15 percent of me is going to feel clean. Clean, I say!

And that 15 percent makes all the difference.

Rob

On Notice

Just thought you'd all like to know.

Rob

We is Stupid

In your face, Turkey!

Hideous.

Rob

A friendly pointer down below

Well... maybe not so friendly, but ya take what Google Images gives ya.

My post on Heath Ledger as the Joker has sparked a nice little discussion on cross-ethnic casting (Thanks Dave!), and seeing as how the post is sinking beneath the waves just as it's getting interesting, I thought I'd provide a link for latecomers. And for me, to save my delicate scrolling thumb.

Rob

Whether the wether be cold…

Bellwether. Been hearing that word a lot lately, in conjunction with the Connecticut primary between Joe Lieberman and Ned Lamont. And I’ve been thinking it’s a pretty cool word.

The way it’s used, it means an indicator of trends – that is, if voters select Lamont, it indicates tough times for pro-war candidates, and if they choose Lieberman, it means the anti-war folks aren’t as strong as some people think. But as interested as I am in the outcome of that race, it’s only pertinent here as an example. (Although I also have to note that I really only hear the term in connection with politics anymore, but that may just be because that’s where my interests are. It could be used in football reporting all the time, and I’d never know.)

Bellwether originated as a term for a bell shepherds would hang on their lead sheep – which would indicate to the shepherd were the flock was. But what I like about it is what it seems to come from. A bell, of course, is a signal, just like in the original. And weather is something that we’re accustomed to having forecast. We’re used to thinking about weather in the future. So despite the term’s etymology having nothing to do with the Doppler 2000 Weathercenter, it still makes sense to the modern ear. Cool, huh?

Rob

(The other term that catches my ear on the news lately is Israeli pullout, but that’s mostly because it sounds kinda porny.)

Kiss Kiss

KTBuffy just recommended the movie Kiss Kiss Bang Bang on her blog, and I've got to second that. (Click the link to her place to see a preview.) It's a terrific movie, well-versed in the film noir tradition, tweaking it (and movies in general) in enough ways to be really, really funny.

Watching the commentary track, gills-full of whiskey, I noticed something. When you can't hear him talk, just watching his face, it's almost eerie how much Robert Downey Jr. looks like a young Alan Arkin. Seriously. Watch Catch-22 and then watch this. It's friggin' uncanny. (Or it's friggin' Bushmills.)

One way or another, you won't be sorry you rented this puppy. Enjoy.

Rob

The Fightin' Keyboarders

Don't miss this post on the conservative blogosphere by Jesus's General. It's called "This Week in Heroism." The message is elegant in its simplicity.

Rob

To the Girl With the Great Legs in the Translucent Blue Skirt Walking East (Into the Sun) on 33rd Street This Morning:

Thanks.

Rob

Turtle Power!

It's been a long time since I followed the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. But if you've ever been a fan -- or even if you haven't -- this movie preview is likely to impress you.

Rob

New Commute

With a new job comes a new commute. Due to the relative positioning of my new desk, my commute is now 27 steps shorter!

Seriously. I paced it out this morning.

Rob