Just What I Needed

If it wasn't enough that our nation is run by a collection of human colostomy bags, now I find out that the Cars are reforming WITHOUT--yes, let me repeat myself--WITHOUT Ric Ocasek.

Now, not that Holly's the world's biggest fan of the Cars or anything, but they put out some great powerpoppunk songs back in the day: "Just What I Needed," "My Best Friend's Girl," "Shake it Up," "You Might Think" and the song that made Phoebe Cates the erotic fantasy of teenage boys during the 80s, "Moving in Stereo." According to Reuters, the Cars are reforming with original members Elliot Easton and Greg Hawkes. Their new frontman will be -- dig this -- Todd Rungdren. Runt has been dodgy over the years (anyone remember Utopia?), but he produced two of the finest one-man pop-rock albums of the 70s: Something/Anything? (1972) and A Wizard/A True Star (1973). "Hello It's Me" is probably the best bubblegum pop love song of the era.

But the Cars without Ric Ocasek is analagous to a boothill hanging without a rope. Sure, deceased bassist Ben Orr sang their most annoying hit, the ballad "Drive," from the Heartbeat City (1984) album. Ric Ocasek has apparently moved on to brighter prospects, most notably as the producer of Weezer's first album (1995).

No matter how talented Todd Rundgren is, this new Cars package doesn't deserve to leave the lot. Yeah, see what kind of bad puns this decision lowers Holly to? Normally I'm not so grumpy, but I'm about to leave the indie-bougie gentrified confines of DC's Columbia Heights neighborhood for a town called Mason City, Iowa. Long story. Maybe I'll hook up with Puff Katty when I'm at the Minneapolis/St. Paul airport and we can get Turtledaub a souvenir shot glass!

Reelin' and Rockin'

Welcome back, P. Kitty, from the land of Lost Wages, Nevada, all nuptialized wit yo bad self.

Holly rarely uses this forum as a means of politicking. But the fallout from the press conference held by John Murtha, the Democratic Congressman from Pennsylvania, has revealed the true colors of every single politician in the Beltway. It's as if Murtha is a beer, and every DC politico shotgunned 20 cans of it (tho, it ain't no PBR!). Here is what I have learned about the members of both of our major political parties here in the United States--

Which of the following parties engages in ad-hominem attacks as a means of effective debating?
The Republicans: check
The Democrats: check

Which of the following parties changes their attitudes about the war when public opinion polls go against their "core beliefs" in order to secure re-election in the next term?
The Republicans: check
The Democrats: check

As I write this, there is a vote on a quick Iraqi pullout plan. The AP's Liz Sidoti notes relays the following bits of information:

--Republican Duncan Hunter says, " This is not a stunt. This is not an attack on an individual. This is a legitimate question." [Right. Then why did this make it to the floor the day after Murtha's speech. Yeah, that's what I thought.]

--"Most Republicans oppose Murtha's call for withdrawal, and some Democrats also have been reluctant to back his position." [I wonder why democrats are reluctant? Is all that faulty pre-war intelligence they were suckered into buying during the leadup to the war because they betrayed their generally anti-war position so as not to alienate post-9/11 pro-war swing voters? Got me.]

--"The fiery, emotional debate climaxed when Rep. Jean Schmidt, R-Ohio, the most junior member of the House, told of a phone call she received from a Marine colonel. 'He asked me to send Congress a message — stay the course. He also asked me to send Congressman Murtha a message — that cowards cut and run, Marines never do,' Schmidt said." [I really love Jean Schmidt's careful packaging of the facts here to make her case for vetoing immediate troop withdrawal from Iraq. And just think, the people of Ohio voted her into office. My faith in our democracy is definitely in its ascendency!]

-- "You guys are pathetic. Pathetic," yelled Rep. Marty Meehan, D-Mass. [Hip-hip-hooray, Marty Meehan, my new hero. Finally, an honest politician!]

& now for some ad-hominy from Holly. While I think that Murtha has the right idea here, I am not surprised that most democrats, being the chicken shits that they are, are afraid to back him on this, and that most republicans, especially the ones with no military experience whatsover, resort to calling him a "coward." Good work. You manipulative, $$greedy$$, gloryhungry pieces of shit are the reason why half this country doesn't vote.

What America really needs is Chuck Norris.

I mean, hell, the guy's tears cure cancer!

Back from the dead

Howdy all. I know it's been a while since I last rapped at you. But I'm finally back. I've spent the last few weeks doing what any upstanding hipster should be doing at this time of year: watching The Last Unicorn (1982) over and over and over again. And, of course, rocking out to the mellow sound of folk-rockers America while I do it.

Well, I've been doing that, and I got hitched. Yes, P. Kitty is officially off the market for good. I also got hitched at the same place Britney Spears, Michael Jordan, Judy Garland, Frank Sinatra, and Mickey Rooney. You can read all about it at Ephemeral-Abeyance. Probably the most important thing you need to know about 'ol P. Kitty's weddin' day is that Elvis, The King, was in attendance. So that made things legit. That, and the fact that I was able to wear a classic Elvis, Aloha From Hawaii Via Satellite belt buckle to the ceremony.

It's a good thing I'm back too. I need to second that emotion about Gus Van Sandt. He is, like, totally a douche. Dude made like one or two decent movies (My Own Private Idaho being his hands-down best) and then might as well have withered up and died. I mean, I saw Elephant (2003) and was NOT impressed. It basically presents every obvious stereotype about high school kids, but for what reason I don't know. As boring as it was, I don't think it won any major awards. That surprised me. Being boring and predictable has always gotten Steven Spielberg places (oh, burn!).

In My Time of Dying

Hurry up, people. When are y'all gonna die?

:)

Millions of Images

Back in the dizzay, Holly used to brag to her friends about this up-and-coming director named Gus Van Sant. Director of at least four fine films--Midnight Cowboy (1989), My Own Private Idaho (1991), To Die For (1995) and his Academy Award winning megahit Good Will Hunting (1997)--Van Sant's movies were rich with dazzling cinematography, esoteric performances and gay themes that weren't the stereotypical Queer Eye dribble. He even made some cool music in collaboration with William S. Burroughs.

After Good Will Hunting, though, that all changed.

Holly has made a vow to never again watch one of his films.

"Why?" you ask.

Van Sant has now attempted to ruin two things I love: 1) Psycho, my favorite film; and, 2) Kurt Cobain, my imaginary husband when I was in high school.

His remake of Hitchcock's Psycho (1998) was a color-by-numbers exercise/exorcism if there ever was one. His casting is terrible (Vince Vaughan is awful as Norman Bates, and Anne Heche, who is awful in everything, is nauseating as Marion Crane), and he eliminates most of the subtext from the original. It is no longer a frightening piece of psychological drama--it is now a silly, awkward, fumbling melo-comedy.

Last week, I finally got around to watching Last Days (2005), Van Sant's interpretation of Kurt Cobain's last days before committing suicide in April 1994. Even without the allegorical connection to Cobain, this film is unwatchable. The main character, Blake (played by Michael Pitt), stumbles through the woods, mumbling, vomiting, then hides out at his mansion--and we don't really know who he's hiding from. His friends, at least they seem to be friends, are protecting him from some outside menace that is never identified. Blake is apparently a musician, but we can't really tell. Kim Gordon, bassist and vocalist from Sonic Youth, appears in the film as a character, and asks Blake, "Do you tell your daughter you've become a rock and roll cliche?" Wow. How deep. Blake doesn't really talk so much as mumble. You wonder how anybody could have been friends with this guy. Then he kills himself and we, as viewers, are supposed to care about him.

The fact that Cobain provided the template for this boring, pointless film has proven to be the final straw for Holly's cameled hunchback. Van Sant, who made Sean Connery laughingly say, "You're the man now, Dawg!" in Finding Forrester (2000), should now be considered among the ranks of failed directors like William Friedkin, Michael Cimino and George Lucas.

But what concerns me now more than this Van Sant douche is the disappearance of P. Kitty. Where's ma cat at these days? He just might've taken this serial dating thing a bit too far.

With the Radio On

Holly just discovered a book that has changed her life. It is called Belle and Sebastian: Just a Modern Rock Story (2005). It is written by Paul Whitelaw, a music expert, Belle and Sebastian scholar, and Commander of the 9th German Artillery Squad currently stationed in Aruba.

Belle and Sebastian have moved mountains and brought hipsters together from all stripes--it has made Neu! fans out of people who swear by the genius of Richard & Linda Thompson's Shoot Out the Lights (1982). We all know how those two camps really despise each other.

Just look at the response to Whitelaw's epic. On amazon.com, customer "Kellette A. O'Connor" writes, "I got this as a gift for my boyfriend and he can't put it down. For any Belle and Sebastian fan, this is a treasure!" Truer words were never spoken.

Now if you don't know the story, Belle and Sebastian, aka Stuyvesant Belle and Hector Sebastian, were two young men who had a desire to bring their particularly twee brand of songcraft into every hipster home in the world. They accomplished this by using a clever mixture of retro-sounds, packaging, mysteriousness and brute, total strength. Also key to their sound and marketing strategy were their frequent trips to the red-light districts of San Bernardino, California where they did more crank, Ecstasy, and Crystal Drano than an army of cockroaches, expanding upon their irresistible blend of Hello Kitty cuteness and militaristic raw power. Whitelaw recounts each of these excusions in exquisite, sycophantic detail.

If I were you, and I'm not, I would purchase this book immediately. Unfortunately, I can't, because I just spent my money on an "irony purchase," Ashlee Simpson's new album, which boasts the greatest title in the history of recorded music: I Am Me.