Smell the glove

I was talking to this guy Derek Smalls, and he had a friend's custom amplifier for sale. This one was supposed to be special so you could turn it up more than usual. It didn't seem to actually be any louder than a regular amp, but he insisted there was something custom about it. I don't really believe him anyway. This dude had something like a cucumber in his pocket the whole time I was talking to him. It creeped me out. I mean, why? Then, if that weren't enough, he tells me this story about being stuck inside a giant peapod during a concert. It reminded me of my latest trip to the Quad Cities Sci-fiathan (the bi-monthly science fiction convention/Thomas Hobbes philosophy roundtable).

Two Can Be as Bad as One

Thank you Harry Nilsson for that wonderful and loneliest of lyrics!

This is a "Found Rothko": known simply as No.2. There was graffiti written on this blue wall inside my apartment building (in the booming, gentrified Columbia Heights neighborhood of Washington DC). I think it read "CHAKA." As luck would have it, the spirit of Mark Rothko stopped by and "bluewashed" it. So, I took this picture. I hope his people don't sue me for copyright infringement.

Genius or pompous buffoon?

Samuel Beckett or James Joyce: which one is a mad genius and which one is a pompous buffoon? In any event, I think Joyce is definitely more likely to cause motorcycle mayhem.

Catholic fashion show

It's hard for me to gauge the newest political bestsellers because they aren't readily available at the Buddhist monastery were I am currently staying. You wouldn't believe how complicated it is for me to contribute to this blog from up on my mountaintop. I have to handwrite my posts on paper that I make myself with a bare piece of pencil lead, just like my boy Malone. Then Jikan ("J-bone" to his friends and fellow American Idol fans) gets it to our passenger pigeon (not extinct yet baby, don't tip and shout...ahhh...prematurely) who sends it to India where I have landed a sweet deal with a typing service. I totally moved that operation offshore. Now I don't have to pay for my typist's healthcare or even to have running water in the typing center. Sweet, huh? But, you know, these Buddhists can be real bastards. I spent most of the last week making this incredibly intricate design with colored sand, then they just blew it all away in the wind. All those duders said to me was, "Before zen, a mountain is a mountain. During zen, nothing is clear. After zen, a mountain is a mountain again." I thought that was a great story. Mainly because it was long enough for me to lift all their wallets (I was a cannon before some tiger caught me in 'Frisco a few years back). That got me $14.76, a soggy Darryl Strawberry rookie card, and two free passes to the horse track.

I don't want anyone to get the wrong idea here, though. Just because I live with Buddhists doesn't mean I don't dig other peoples' religions. Mad props for diversity! New pope Benedict XVI has reminded me of Federico Fellini's Roma (1972). I dig the catholic fashion show Fellini stages near the end. Can we get some quasi-futuristic papal robes people? We deserve at least that much. Anything with sequins and/or resembling something Elvis or El Vez would wear would make my millennium.

PS - Anybody know where I guy can get a pair of Fellini sunglasses these days? Holla at the blog comments if you do.

Political Song for Michael Jackson to Sing

For the record, thee Paper Cat, "Little Red Corvette" is my 6th favorite Carsong ... you know me, Dogg, er, I mean Catt. But, technically, wouldn't any song by the Cars automatically dominate that category? "My Best Friend's Girl," "You Might Think," "Just What I Needed," "Shake it Up," "Let the Good Times Roll" ... all solid! But wait, they did "Drive." Never you mind, then.

Okay folks, it's time for a brief rundown of all the current best-selling political books that are presently on the market. As we all know, these books really let us know what it means to be alive, what it means to be sensitive, caring, attentive to the small things (like facts, for instance) and, of course, those "big" things. [Sorry if that sounds vaguely sexual.] They send our minds out on spiritual strolls through philosophical parks with metaphysical jungle gyms. These gemstones of poesy embody the best that humanity has to offer, bathing us with that Calgon for the soul and human spirit: luv--

Ann Coulter, How to Talk to a Liberal (If You Must)
--Coulter, the most recent Newsweek cover gal, did some scientific experiments in her Nautilus XIV Laboratories and discovered that one can actually speak to a liberal through a newly-discovered discourse: stabbing. Apparently, by repeatedly sticking a sharp object, like, say, a knife, into a liberal, one can find out that they really are a bunch of "bleeding hearts." An extremely helpful book. Also, there are loads of footnotes, which means that Coulter is really really smart. One of the footnotes (p. 198), #13, reads, "Look here. Another footnote. I'm really smart." See what I mean?

Jane Fonda, My Life So Far
--This feminist tome (with a wonderfully inventive title to boot!) asserts that through radical subversions of gender stereotypes, such as those practiced by Fonda (for instance, by starring in films like Barbarella [1968] or marrying an incredibly wealthy man with a news network [Ted Turner]), "we were able to stop the War, maaaaan!" Really inspirational stuff.

Michael Savage, Liberalism is a Mental Disorder
--A work of true genius. A friend of mine, a so-called "liberal," recently ate a child after reading Swift's "A Modest Proposal" (1729), writing "KILL THE PIGS" on the wall with its blood. This same friend also voted for Bill Clinton in the 90s. Talk about mental disorder ... You just can't argue with that faultless logic.

Clint Willis, The I Hate Ann Coulter, Bill O'Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Michael Savage, Sean Hannity ... Reader: The Hideous Truth About America's Ugliest Conservatives
--Hate, ugly ... aren't those the words used by conservatives? Oh wait, I can imagine the rap-hating Bill O'Reilly "covering" (i.e. interpolating) that old Ice Cube song: "The Conservative You Love to Hate." In this book, Willis asserts, "Conservatives lie a lot." Pretty bold, revolutionary stuff. Political figures and pundits lying ... no way.

David Corn, The Lies of George W. Bush: Mastering the Politics of Deception
--This is that guy that FoxNews always puts on to defend the liberal position against conservative big-wigs like Newt Gingrich, Ann Coulter or William Bennett. He's been cashing in on the "Bush is a Liar" market for the last several years as editor of the Nation. Read this book and see why he's a "FoxNews Contributor."

Well, that's it. As you can see, there are some quality books out there that really do all the thinking for you, and that's what life is all about. I don't even know what that means.

Yes that's my foot

I think both you and Chicken Little have it right. I AM of the Garden State-generation of disaffected hipsters. Of course, I cough up more style than even the best of my generation. But my chronic licking has me coughing up many things--hairballs included. So this is a major issue for me. What does have me troubled is my belt wearing technique. I found out the other day that I put my belt on backwards. That is, I thread mine clockwise while it seems everyone else (who is also right-handed at least) puts his or hers on counterclockwise. I'm shattered. It may take me several blog entries to fully recover from this.

Let me get to your list though! This list is well-timed, as I just picked up my new car last week. In my part of the world, we call my car a Josh Hartnett-mobile. Actaully, that's the perfect name, because I'm the Josh Hartnett of a new generation. My top 5 songs about cars: (1) "Come On" Chuck Berry (2) "Roadrunner" The Modern Lovers (3) "Rocket U.S.A." Suicide (4) "Bitchin' Camaro" The Dead Milkmen (5) "Look-Ka Py Py" The Meters. I couldn't resist some honorable mentions (especially as there was some overlap on our lists; holy overlap Batman!): "Motorcade" Magazine, "Wax the Van" lola [a/k/a Arthur Russell], and that Billy Joel song that goes "cadillac-ack-ack-ack". Also, it's not really a song, but I want to shout out to the bit "No Prob Limo" by Pleaseeasaur. I'm also gonna scratch my head and wonder why you didn't list "Little Red Corvette" by Prince. Holly, I thought I knew you.

Also, for future reference, bad joke alerts should come before the joke. It's simply protocol. A little heads up is always nice going into those things.

When You Asked Me How I Was Doing / Was that Some Kind of Joke?

I think I'm fully recovered from the recent bad-movie-watching experience involving Closer. To help me in my time of need: Hitchcock's North by Northwest (1959) and a cool documentary on Miles Davis called Miles Electric: A Different Kind of Blue (2004), which showed at the DC Filmfest. Most of the film is basically foreplay leading up to uncut footage from Davis' appearance at the huge Isle of Wight festival in 1970. This was right after he released three of the greatest albums in the history of mankind, In a Silent Way (1969), Bitches Brew (1970) and A Tribute to Jack Johnson (1970). The performance, titled "Call it Anything," is smmmmokin'!

[BAD JOKE ALERT!!!]

In certain parts of Canada and the European Union, is he known as KILOMETERS DAVIS?

Why Don't the Two of You Cut it Out

I agree with chicken little's comment re: Natalie Portman, Paper Catty Cat. I can't shake from my mind the image of Princess Amidala flirting with a 10-year-old Anakin Skywalker in that one movie ... what was it? [Insert appropriate emoticon here.] She's the masturbation aid for the Garden State-generation of disaffected hipsters.

By the way, I've recently been directed to some information about my arch-nemesis Meg White, the enigmatic skin-thumper for the White Stripes:

http://www.geocities.com/wilhelmina_wonka/ws.html

Since I feel it is my duty to pass on important information at all times, I'm sharing this link with you.

Though Turtledaub's taste in dubs in wiggitywiggitywizzack, his new ride, a 1986 Hyundai Excel, sure beats that Chevy Cavalier he bought off me through craigslist. Think QUICK, Cat: top 5 songs about cars? Off the top of my head: 1) Bruce Springsteen, "Born to Run"; 2) Chuck Berry, "Maybellene"; 3) The Modern Lovers, "Roadrunner"; 4) The Dictators, "(I Live for) Cars and Girls"; 5) Elvis Presley, "Long Black Limousine."

Re-make/Re-model

Holly, I couldn't agree more about Closer. If I wanted to watch a play, I wouldn't normally go to a movie theater. I can't say that I understood a movie based entirely on jumping to every argument that a group a people have over a 5 year period is really enlightening. I mean, if I wanted that I would watch a Quantum Leap marathon on cable (assuming I got cable first, and a TV, and electricity), or may I would hustle on over to a friend's house and watch Fox's teen drama remake Tru Calling. But although you are correct that Natalie Portman lacks the menace factor or Kevin Spacey's Keyser Soze character in The Usual Suspects, I think she is plus 1043% on the hotness factor. Personally, I wouldn't make many comparisons to The Usual Suspects because it's a movie with about as much substance as the waistline of an America's Next Top Model contestant. Someone once argued to me that "Keyser Soze" means "truth" in some language, as so the movie supposedly means there is no truth. Well, it's the disneyland version of nothing is true--everything is permitted.

There were simply better movies than Closer in 2004. Dogville for one. It's kind of like a remake of High Noon (1952) with a David Bowie song played at the end. But I think they had to really skip on the budget for sets and special effects to pay for all the big name stars in that one.

On an unrelated note, I'm a fan of John Frusciante now. This guy was and currently is in the Red Hot Chili Peppers, and I still like his albums. The Will to Death, Curtains, and his contributions to The Brown Bunny: Motion Picture Soundtrack hit on something I can relate to, and that, of course, is unending self-absorption and delusional loneliness! Oh, yes, introverted romanticism too.

[This blog entry lovingly dedicated to Gummo Marx, whose birthday was not on this date]

This Is the Way / Step Inside

The heading of this blog entry comes from the opening track, "Atrocity Exhibition" (named after the 1969 J.G. Ballard novel), on Joy Division's 1980 masterpiece Closer. The reason I have done this is to preserve the association of the word "closer" with that of a brilliant masterwork like the abovementioned Joy Division long-player -- and to distance it from the 2004 Mike Nichols film of the same name, which I saw on DVD last night.

Closer--one of the 39 films Jude Law was in last year--is a much lesser version of films in the same spirit: specifically Bergman's Scenes from a Marriage (1974) and even Woody Allen's Husbands & Wives (1992), which isn't even that great; sort of like how Ozzie Canseco was the much lesser baseball sibiling to that slugger and amazing poet of the ballpark, Jose Canseco. (Note: just compare the career statistics of Jose and Ozzie ... even if Jose was caught on tape injecting steroids into his wide-open eyeballs, he would still be a much better player than his brother!)

Weak, stretched-thin baseball analogies aside, Closer is a pedestrian film. As the comedian Bill Hicks said about Basic Instinct (1992), it is "a ... piece ... of ... shit." SPOILER ALERT!! The reason I'm so frustrated about the co-optation of the title of the film away from Joy Division is that it has no "closer-ness" about it ... all the characters are quite distant, emotionally speaking. Maybe that's the deep, Alanis Morrisette-type irony here. But, the film, more likely, should be retitled Jude Law Gets Shit On for 90 Minutes; or, Why Should I Care About These Bastards? Even worse, the film's little "twist" ending involves the corniest of devices ... let's just say that Natalie Portman's character is, ultimately, Keyser Soze, minus 99.35% of the menace-factor. Really, I've never seen the concept of profundity so abused. (Note: this "piece of shit" got nominated for two Academy Awards. See this earlier post on the intelligence of the Academy.)

Follow my bizzle Cat-dogg's lead and watch Batman (1966), which is one of the funniest and most entertaining films of the era ... not to mention the best television series pre-Police Squad!

The Alsatian flask

My friends and I, while making a stop to pick up some cans of PBR, by pure chance discovered Boris - The Alsatian Flask. It's certainly a beer I can believe in, even if I don't drink beer. The box tells me, "I go where I want to, because only freedom motivates my steps and my thoughts. I am not afraid of standing up for what I believe in. . . . I am known as Boris the rebel because I believe in myself and not in the systems I am expected to live in." I'm gusessing that if I drink enough of this French beer I will be able to ask the case whether Boris believes that U.S. foriegn policy is directed at hegemonial imperialism. I hear it goes well with hot dogs too. But that's only from those awful animal murderers who haven't reached level 9 vegan status yet.

I just heard a sermon by The Pedestrian yesterday. It was a little disappointing because he didn't touch on the relative merits of Batman (1966), starring Adam West, Caesar Romero, Burgess Meredith, Burt ward, and Lee Meriweather, versus Batman (1989) starring Michael Keaton, Jack Nicholson and Kim Basinger. Batman (Adam West): "Some days you just can't get rid of a bomb."

Paris When it Sizzles

RIP Paris Hilton [1981-2005]

Nobody knows quite how she died. Some leading physicians suspect she was "forgotten to death." Dr. Peregrenious Fang of the Wimbledon Clinic for Podiatric Sciences speaks of other manifestations of this condition: "It's very similar to the overuse of the word shit. Because so many people say it so often now, it is no longer a profanity, no longer has shock value. It's like saying tourist or balloon. Well, some scientists believe the same thing happened to Paris Hilton. Vooooosh. She became passe. What can we say? I guess there are some things a $billion trust f-to-tha-muthafukin-izzund can't buy." The Dr. added, "By the way, has anybody seen the movie Paris When it Sizzles (1964), which reunited William Holden and Audrey Hepburn? It's an underrated film about a drunk screenwriter who, after months of lollygagging, has to produce some pages for his producer. Along the way, he gets bizzay with his assistant. It's much better than 1 Night in Paris (2004), though there's significantly less coitus."

Pimp my ride

I'm either going to join the army, or buy one of these:



Turtledaub is in favor of the ATV. I can't say I blame him for that. After all, he sells those rims.

I Didn't Realize Until Now What a Beautiful Word Alabama Is

Oooh, Cat, FEELIN' NERDY AGAIN (holla atcha boy Muddy Waters)!! Thanks for yet another opportunity to precede-in-spirit or emulate Rob Fleming (if you're reading High Fidelity, the novel) and/or Rob Gordon (if you're watching High Fidelity, the film). Here are Holly Go-Heavily's picks for the Top 5 Liner Notes of All-Time:

1) A.C. [Anal Cunt], It Just Gets Worse (1999)
2) (tie) any Funkadelic album from Cosmic Slop (1973) to The Electric Spanking of War Babies (1982)
3) Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited (1965)
4) The Flaming Lips, Zaireeka (1997)
5) Richard Pryor, Evolution/Revolution: The Early Years 1966-1974 (2005)

Feelin' ducky

I am reborn thanks to that Gizoogle link.

H-to-the-Izzo, V-to-the-Izzay

See what happens when the controversial March 5, 2005 posting is shot through the web-portal known as Gizoogle.

The 90s Equivalent

After watching The OC recently (season two, episode 14 "The Rainy Day Women"!), I was put to the task of finding an album with "End of the Road" by Boyz II Men. Yeah, that naturally led me to the Boomerang Original Soundtrack Album.



It's probably the inspirational equivalent for the 1990s. Its the album that introduced Toni Braxton to the world (no relation to Anthony Braxton). But have you neglected The Big Chill (1984)? Jeff Goldblum is personally disappointed in you for forgetting that one. Please do not anger Jeff Golblum, for the children. Think of the children! Holly, those wah-wah-waahhhhh-ing screaming little babies!!!

Holding Out for a Hero

I'm holding out for a hero ... Bonnie Tyler, you are a golden God!

Is not the Footloose soundtrack (1984) the most inspirational sacred recording of the 1980s? It's about freeing one's spirit in the face of adversity; turning the bedroom into a dancefloor (think Shalamar: "Dancing in the Sheets," not Martha and the Vandellas' "Dancing in the Street" [1964]) of emotion; giving good guys props (Denise Williams singin' "Let's Hear it for the Boys"); the wonderful Aeolian Harp that is Kenny Loggins' voice; and, the Edenic bliss of being in love (Annie from Heart and Mikey from Loverboy in the heartfelt magnum opus "Almost Paradise").

Speaking of luv, I've received no love letters on my myspace account. Wuddup wit dat? Not even Turtledaub has sent me any love. I know he had a thing for me. My French-Canadian accent really got him a-purrin'!

John Hinckley IS the man of the millenium.

So High Fidelity did nab most of the credit for listmania. Don't fret though. I had that disorder long before too (before the movie at least). But now I got that fever a-runnin' through me. Quick, what are your all time top 5 favorite liner notes? I'll...go...first...natch!

(1) The 13th Floor Elevators - The Psychedelic Sounds of The 13th Floor Elevators (1966)
(2) Patti Smith Group - Radio Ethiopia (1976)
(3) The Master Musicians of Jajouka - Brian Jones Presents: The Pipes of Pan at Jajouka (1971)
(4) John Coltrane - Coltrane live at Birdland (1963)
(5) Suicide - American Supreme (2002)

Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up to Be Cowboys

Cat, fellow readers, my apologies for the extended absence. I've been away at a Smiths convention. Heaven knows I'm miserable now! And Cat, thanks for the head's up re: "craig." I knew he was sent from outer space to put cool clutter in the homes of the hip. Not that there's anything wrong with that (holla atcha boy Sir Duc!).

Many of my "baby loving friends" have taken some offense to my recent post about the annoyance quotient of screaming babies. These, coincidentally, are the same people who objected to my stance on Mark Rothko (though Cat has not chimed in on his googoogawgaw factor). A friend forwarded me this wonderful postmodern painting which seems to combine the two wonderfully.


Ed Ruscha, Dirty Baby, 1977.

& mad props to the Cat for giving webspace to the Boredoms. Their album Vision Creation Newsun (1999) is one of the best albums nobody's ever heard. Tribal ambient superprocessed noodly-less progrock san vocals, maybe. I can't really do the album justice in two or three sentences, so just go on wit yo bad selfz and buy it or have a friend illegally burn a copy for you.

Here's something I've been thinking about for the last five years or so: the impact of High Fidelity (novel or film) on those with snobby rock/slant/improv/indie/punk sensibilties. The one major drawback of the impact of it on my life is my propensity for making lists. I love lists. In late 1999, a few of my friends put together a list of the greatest people of the Millenium (not the Willenium -- sorry to dis the Fresh Prince, Cat ... this hipster just don't understand!). We all agreed that John Hinckley was the greatest person of the millenium, followed closely by Jodie Foster, Martin Scorsese and J.D. Salinger. Jesus Christ was allowed on the list, owing to the Resurrection. I also cannot account for the synchronicity of our fascination with the botched assassination attempt on Ronald Reagan. Anyway, this list was incredibly funny in 1999 before the film version of High Fidelity (2000) came out. Now, every time I come up with an irreverent list idea (like name the Top Five All-Time Sausages -- go kielbasa!!), people are all like, "that's so High Fidelity." What gives? Summer sausage ... not funny?

Awesome!

i went out lest nite and it was cool accept my firend was sendin' txt messages with my phone to people i no. wtf? i was like all wanting veto that fishizzle. lol. its liek you cant get up in somebody's business like that. and then it was warm out but you can't smoke anywhere around here now so all the people was hanging outside. ican't spell omg. wait y favorite part was when somebodyplayed all this sade and stuff on the jukebox and then people had to liek get up and put money in so it would play the cramps or somethign else.

If you didn't believe it before...

It's official, we broke Earth. That one dude was right.