February 28, 2003

John Fante Versus John Fahey
Great balls of fire. Don't ya' think it's strange sometimes how in the chaotic cosmos of information and entertainment some things actually fall in line for a damn second and you squeeze out one of those diamond cut moments of absolute clarity. The nodes heat up for a white hot minute and send a 24 Karate synaptic spark across the gray highway betwixt your ears. And damn if it doesn't happen while you're trying to take a piss - forcing you to clutch the towel rack to balance yourself. What the hell just happened? At first you're reeling and can't really express that moment articulately because it only presented itself to you for one clean second, but standing their with your dick in your hand, one more piece of the puzzle is found swirling amongst all the others and you've picked it up and snapped it into place. Fit in with all the other pieces, it seems to make sense. Then it's gone. You flush the toilet and continue on with your day. For me that puzzle piece can only be expressed as John Fante versus John Fahey. Or put another way The Human Comedy versus the American Primitive. Trust me, more on this as it comes to me...

February 27, 2003

A Sad Day in the Neighborhood
The neighborhood has lost a friend. Fred Rodgers we will miss you. We are still learning from your words of wisdom. To wit:
""We live in a world in which we need to share responsibility. It's easy to say 'It's not my child, not my community, not my world, not my problem.' Then there are those who see the need and respond. I consider those people my heroes."

February 26, 2003

Virtual March on Washington
Did you remember to participate in the Virtual March on Washington? You still have time to send a fax. Watch the results here (this site is getting hella traffic and may not be accessible).

The License Plate of Doom
All that's wrong with the Minnesota political landscape is so eloquently said in this license plate that I was able to take a hasty photo of last night.

My Hair Versus The Aveda Institute
Yesterday was a big day for me and my hair. I had been putting off a haircut for awhile and it was time to get rid of some of my locks. It was a growing concern of all who knew me and was taking on new and different shapes daily depending on the weather and the amount of hat time I gave it.

I started going to the Aveda Institute about a year ago, which is to say three haircuts ago. The run down on the Aveda Institute is that it's a school, a training ground, a learning center for those who wish to be beautiful and get paid to help others reach the same goal. It's cheap cause they're just students - so you take a risk. Your first sign of doom, that something could go horribly wrong occurs just after you walk through the frosted glass doors. You are immediately asked to sign a waiver, letting you know that no matter what happens on top of your head you may not come after them with shaking fists and loud voices. When you sign that slip, all bets are off. It's basically a crap shoot and one I had been fairly lucky at so far. I was rolling sevens and feeling confident. But like a fine day at the race track, not all your horses can win, place, or show. Some just stumble out the gate and fall on a game leg. That was my hair cut yesterday. A disaster by all accounts. I think I could have walked into the Minneapolis downtown prison and handed a scissors to the first inmate I saw and received a better and more timely cut.

I wanted to say "deals off" as soon as I saw the girl. I believe at a beauty salon any type of profiling is O.K. She was literally half my size, the tinniest person I had ever seen. I didn't think this would be physically possible. Sitting down in the chair, slouching as far down as my back could stand it, I still don't think she was able to see over the top of my head. I was an idiot for not putting an end to this hilarity from the word go. My student had hands that were scared and timid, as if they were new and she was just getting used to them. The scalp massage was just strange. She moved one finger gingerly over my melon in a fashion that was very similar to how I use my track pad mouse - gentle and wandering. Everything she did was performed in this anxious timid way, but very calculated, which translated into many long minutes and then a couple painful hours. When she finally got around to cutting my hair I barely even knew she was at work. I couldn't feel anything happening. Still today, I don't think she did any real cutting of my hair. Thankfully, every 10 minutes or so she would call over an instructor who would take the scissors to my head violently and rapidly for about 15 seconds and then hand the scissors back to the student and say, "looks good". I think the instructor cut more hair in an accumulated 60 seconds then this poor little girl did in an hour and a half. I kept asking questions like "shouldn't you use that scissors thing with the comb to thin my hair?". Which got a "Yes" but then I never saw the tool leave the polished chrome of her table. I usually like to get a straight razor to my hair to finish off the cut. It gives me that uptown look, but I couldn't stand the thought of a straight razor in this girls hands so I kept real quite and walked out of the joint knowing full well that I would soon need to turn to a professional for a supplemental haircut.

Sitting in that chair for two hours I did have the fortune to get a good vibe on the Aveda Institute. It's a very interesting culture. I enjoyed watching the foreign janitor up on a ladder polishing the same piece of wood (pun intended) for over an hour as he kept close watch on the 50 or so girls working the floor. I was struck by the site of the lone male aveda student who was chubby, had bad hair, and a shirt that was open way too far. He looked very uncomfortable as he sat alone at his station trying to give his disembodied practice head a weave. It was one of the saddest things I had seen in a long time. I would also like to write about the pervasiveness of what I can only call the Christina Aguilera  Syndrome amongst the practicing students but I must now go get my own hair ready for the work day.

February 24, 2003

Snow Man with Attitude
Desperately fighting the elements, I ventured out for a long walk around Lake Calhoun Saturday. Amidst all the jogger squads and dog walkers, I peered out over the frost forming on my scarf and saw this little snow man giving everybody that came by the bird. He's weather beaten and I can tell he has been around for a couple of days. The picture doesn't capture it well but he's got the fait remains of what I can only imagine was a wild smirk.

I spent the rest of of my cold walk wondering who had built the snow man and given him his wicked temperament. Was the snow man flipping off me and my fellow walker/joggers? Was he standing there, brave and naked on this frozen morning, laughing at all the bundled up passerby's? Was he judging our private thoughts as we hurried on through our mornings thinking of all the things we needed to do that day?

The snowman's purpose was none of those and all of those. Like a fine piece of art, he was standing there wildly for our own interpretation. He was whatever we wanted him to be. For me he was a reason to take a picture on a bitterly cold morning, one that I could hopefully share with my friends over my weblog. He was flipping off this cold weather, this uncomfortable torture, this godforsaken tundra, where a man has to spend half an hour to prepare himself to go outside; If you don't you will die. He was taking a picture of me in my thermal long underwear, my hat and mittens and down-filled parka as I hustled along the path dodging all the joggers and their dogs. I must have looked pitiful to him. I must have seemed like a fool to be out there.

Truthfully...I wanted to smash that little snowman. Find a rock and pulverize him into the singular snow that created him. Like a little kid I wanted to kick him in his stomach and then break his little arm that was besmirching me and my fellow morning travelers. He was disgusting and wonderful. I chickened out, half afraid that the scene would draw too many people who would point and yell, perhaps tackle me on the open lake and cause a great panic. No, it wasn't worth it. I would leave the snow man today and all the days to come. Instead I made a vow to visit him daily, for his sake and mine. I would show him courage and raw discipline in my routine and behavior. He would be impressed and soon, perhaps when it got a little warmer, he would take down his foul finger and restrain his mood to something more sunny. I'll keep you posted.

February 21, 2003

Here by Design II
I both love and hate the StarTribune online, when they post an article like, Goldstein gathers Twin Cities designers in gallery show, by Linda Mack. I love it for publishing an article that highlights the Twin Cities design community - it's artists, institutions, and companies, and I hate it for not linking to those artists, institutions, and companies mentioned within the article. After actually tracking down the Exhibition at The Goldstien Museum of Design, I am again disappointed to see the artists and company's listed again without links. So for my own sanity, here are the links:

Baltix. Ecobuzz office furniture.

An article in IDonline on Bamboo's Kathy Soranno package design work for Schroeder milk.

Blinc Publishing. A design company that specializes in letterpress printing. Bill Moran, owner, was my typography instructor.

blu dot design. Furniture designers. I also hold these guys singlehandedly responsible for the current trend in restaurant names incorporating the word "blu" in their name.

Blue Fish Furniture. A "design studio offering our clients custom artistic lighting fixtures ."

Caldrea "devoted to helping you make your household chores more enjoyable. This linnk ommission is especially disconcerting as Caldrea have a very beautiful website.

Larson. Design and interactive agency.

Some Works by Lisa Elias.

Redlurered(coming soon). This place has the dopest furniture in town.

Richard Helgeson, "has been building things for 25 years, first as a carpenter and home builder, and for the last decade as a furniture maker".

Spunk Nation. Branding, Typography, Playful designs.

Thomas Oliphant Studios. Furniture design. I almost bought his bottle opener the other day. Great design.

Wink graphic design. Some of their book cover designs can be seen here.

February 20, 2003

Missy, Ween & Weirdness
Did anybody else watch Missy Elliot on MTV Cribs last night? Hot Damn, that was quite a pad. I wish I was friends with Missy. My favorite was after showing off her all green lamborghini, she made some comment about going back to the house to "fix myself a twinkie".

I read in Rolling Stone last night that Ween had been hired by Pizza Hut's advertising agency to record a jingle of sorts for their overstuffed cheesy pizza. The results of which can be heard on Ween's website here. I have no idea why the advertising agency rejected the jingle. I mean, you can't get anymore catchy then a call and response lyric that asks, "Bitch, where the motherfucking cheese at? - I don't know." That's just brilliant. I am bummed that ad will never be made.

Also decently weird is the illegal art project that features Packard Jennings prototype Pez dispensers with dead rappers like 2pac and Biggie. I think a Jam-Master-Jay modified pez dispenser that dispenses little records would be tight if the proceeds went to the right place. I also really like Hiedi Cody's "American Alphabet". You can see more of her work with cut up logos light-boxes and advertisements here.

For anyone looking for a catchy URL for their website and/or weblog may I please suggest streetblimp.org. It really roles off the tongue, don't you think?

February 19, 2003

TypeCon 2003
The good folks at The Society of Typographic Aficionados are bringing the Typograraphy Conference TypeCon 2003 to Minneapolis this summer. Already a good roster of speakers are lined up.

I've been using a great pixel type called minimono for various clients as of late and the response has been very positive. It's a sharp screen font. It's cheap too at only $8.00. Get yourself some. If you enjoyed playing with those small colored alphabet blocks as a kid, then minimono is for you.

In looking for some information on the web about the brilliant title sequence at the beginning of Catch Me If You Can, I stumbled upon Shill's video movie page, which offers an extensive collection of movie titles to browse through. I could waste a whole day on that site. This title is pretty topical.

Morning Photos
This looks like fun. This looks like it would be illegal in some states.

February 18, 2003

G.I. Joe Millionaire
I came in about an hour late on the Joe Millionaire finale. I have to say the funniest part of that show was not Joe's (Evan's) sweet bulldog confessional dialog approach and general amazement and distraction by all things tractor or tool like, nor was it Bondage Sarah's oddly marionette mouth twitch that happened every time Joe said something of consequence to her polly prissy-pants fantasy of their love ever after, nor was it Zora's stoned out quizzical I-want-you-to think-i'm-thinking-but-I-ain't hazy gaze. In fact, the funniest part of the show was host Alex McCloud (ex-host of Trading Spaces - do you think people will talk about reality T.V. hosts like rock stars? Ex-host..., formerly of...). Or should I say un-host? Did anybody else notice that she wasn't even in at least the last hour of the show. How the heck can you host a show and never appear on the television. During the course of the Joe Millionaire show, she's probably had about about 3 minutes total of air time. And of course, the butler got stuck doing all the heavy lifting. Typical. I guess that's a good gig if you can get it. Anyway, way to go Joe! Thanks for the mind numbing entertainment during these dire times.

We All Jump for Julius
Over the weekend I found myself at Marshall Fields shopping for pants. I bought myself a nice pair of Paul Frank cords and then headed up to the women's department where the misses was going to see what Paul Frank made for the ladies. At first, the Paul Frank section eluded us. Then from out of nowhere came four young girls sprinting down the halls of Marshall Fields followed by their older chaperon who was trying to keep up. These girls rounded a corner and descended like jackals onto the P. Frank merchandise. There was pushing and shoving, young elbows were employed to get at the goods. The cute aesthetic put forth by Paul and his jungle of animated friends was being assaulted by the fashion desperate grabbing of a handful of forth graders. It was an ugly scene, and one we wanted no part of. A firm reminder of the benefits of shopping online.

P.S. at the Paul Frank site you can download lots of cute little animal icons for use on your machine. My favorite is "pufak" the racoon and "steve" the crab.

February 16, 2003

Soccer Mom's Take to the Streets
Yesterday's march/rally went down smooth. Very peaceful. I think I saw about five cops the entire time. Great turnout. From what I hear and read, somewhere between 8,000 and 12,000 people came out. The vibe was very positive and the message was clear. It felt great to be apart of something so strong.

Here are a few photos of the march that I snapped along the way.

Best sign that I saw: "Iraq is my Valentine"
Best chant: "Duct Tape Bush!"
Best costume or outfit: A reflective silver fire-chemical-retardant suit.
Most interesting attendees: Minneapolis Fireman.

February 15, 2003

Calm Down, George.
The good folks of the Twin Towns will gather in a storm of dissent today at 1pm (corner of Hennepin and Lagoon) for an Anti-War March. We throw our duct tape down, remove our gas masks and plastic chemical detox robes. We will scream, beat pots and pans, and generally not be very positive about the present state of a lot of things. Q.E.D.

This protest will be one small node of a larger network of protests that may turn out to be the "greatest global day of protest demonstrations against war in world history". The Guardian predicts that 10 million people will join today in world protest. That's a lot of pissed off folks. The Guardian also has a nice collection of anti-war sites, the best one of course being the nude protesters at bare-witness.

February 14, 2003

Happy Valentines Day!!
This is my Afrojet valentine to you.

Things you don't see everyday.

Margaret Berry's article on Life Lesson's Learned from Literature.

An interview with Jonathan Hoefler about the beauties of Requiem.

A comprehensive collection of Airline logos.

February 13, 2003

Holy Crap, You Didn't See That
Nightmare morning. I had a vicious battle with my good friend Insomnia last night. A night of a thousand nights. When I woke up so thoroughly unrested at seven, I relized I had left my contacts in overnight and my left eye was glued shut from some internal eye defense system that left me fumbling, panicked and pissed off. Oddly, I thought of science class in the sixth grade, and wondered why the hell I didn't have an eye wash in my home. No household is complete without an eye wash. Luckily I was able to loosen the crude in the shower and gain full access to my vision field.

Oh but that was just the start. I was running late for a presentation at Macalester College I had to start at 8:30AM. I went to warm up the Brougham but the damn Car would not start. The battery was so completely dead, and the misses' little Jetta did not have the proper power to bring her back to life. So I took the misses into work. Took her car (your a lifesaver baby). I dropped her off in downtown Minneapolis at about the same time I was supposed to be starting my presentation in St Paul, and then got back on the highway only to find myself parked on 94, lurking about a mile back from some four car pile up. It was only 8:45 AM.

I finally got to Macalester and got set up with no problems (p.s. I love you OS X - you make things so easy). The presentation was going smooth. Then I started in on some long polemic diatribe. My computer began to feel neglected so it decided to fall asleep, and as I had instructed it to do but had forgotten about, put up a random image on the screen pulled from my iphoto library. That random image was one of me - old school:



I of course was facing the audience and didn't see it happen. Oh the embarrassment. After I realized what happened, I turned quickly and lunged at my machine to get rid of the cute kid on display for all to see. But I was too late. The damage had been done. My reputation was shot. Nothing like a damn picture of yourself as a child to discredit any and everything you had said or would say for the rest of the show. My only conciliation was that I think people realized the similarity between the picture and the presenter and did not believe that I had random images of young boys on my machine. Yikees. It was the perfect humiliating exclamation point to end an entirely odd and humbling morning. But whatchya gonna do?

February 12, 2003

This picture of a skier outrunning an avalanche is crazy. Read the story here.

Parking Spots: real cars playing alongside toy cars (thanks brian).

The Return of the Patriot
As a rule, sequels are generally worse than their originals, and the new Patriot Act redux is downright awful. What the heck is this crap? I can't help but think of Philip K. Dick's Pre-crime in Minority Report when I read this stuff about DNA databases and potential intent. Retinal scans don't seem like sci-fi anymore.

I saw this morning that Bin Laden has resurfaced and is spitting game again, threatening not only the US but anyone that allies with our country and its religions. In this global terror reality, the US needs to be making friends. Lots and lots of friends. Our crew needs to roll very deep. How can you fight a battle against international terrorism when you are pissing off all your trusted and long time allies and alienating yourself in the international community, while at the same time, alienating your own citizenry with Patriot Acts and political bulling. Our administration is surfing a wave of fear and putting together horrible rhetoric and policies for the creation of a paranoid future. Watch your back kid, this is truly ugly stuff.

February 11, 2003

Better Than Coffee
Good god, I am hooked on the japanasnacks. The Wasabi peas are better than coffee. A recent trip to the superTarget sent me home with canisters of tiny roasted peas covered in wasabi dust. I eat them constantly. I also can't keep my hands off the Saya snow pea crisps. Pure goodness. Pure addiction.

Sometimes My Heart Beats Wide
The Melvins show pounded my head. The double whiskeys that were being ordered to stay warm ran amok and then, as if scared suddenly by large hounds, bolted and sought refuge in the farther recesses of my brain stem. Crouching there, pensive and ridiculously giddy, it slowly began to spread out as the coast cleared, forming a thin golden coat around my dome. I picture it not unlike the thick brown haze that falls over the San Gabriel mountains - creeping upon Los Angelas everyday.

The intoxicating layer worked to welcome and strengthen the beautiful and brutal signals The Melvins were showering upon us. The happy small crowd of about 200 or so made it seem as if we were someone's basement in the heart of Aberdeen in the early '90's. Sensational stuff. Many of the unfortunates who were not able to get into the show were listening in on the other side of a mobile phone. Apparently, cell phones have replaced bic lighters as the instrument you thrust into the air when the band is good and you are powerless to use proper judgment on important matters, like - how to respond and appreciate in a forthright manner. But it's a digital age baby and some folks need these toys. Everyone around me had digital cameras. There must be a thousand digital images of the show somewhere. But the creeps with the cameras must be hoarding them cause I can't find any online.

The show came at a crucial time as I am hunkered down in a serious development run. All bets are off. I am in the mighty throws of a design/coding orgy, trying to meet the baffling timelines and deadlines of the good people who pay me money. These are weird times in the production cycle. When you write code all day, it's all you can see after awhile. It mutates and begins to take on strange geometrical forms. It's no longer just lines of code but big beautiful shapes and patterns that you can arrange to make intricate illuminate manuscripts. But the work can sometimes pose a labyrinth and that's where the fun really begins. That's what keeps you on your toes. You leave work frustrated at the inability to find simple solutions and workarounds only to discover them in a Jack London short story or from the bitter taste left in your mouth after licking an envelope. Today one answer came while removing the snow from in and around my license plate. Something in the snow/license plate relationship answered a style-sheet problems that has vexed me for 24 hours now. Back to it.

"All craftsmen share a knowledge. They have held reality down fluttering to a bench" -- Vita Sackville-West

February 09, 2003

The Melvins Come to Town
Ok. Time for some serious rawk. I'm ready. It's snowing and cold and I got a case of cabin fever that's chomping at the bit. The Osbornes are coming to town. No, no no, not those Osbournes. These Osbornes. That's right, The Melvins are rocking Minneapolis tonight in a surprise show at some dive just down the road from my office. Hoorah! The Melvins always come correct with the large sound. There isn't a band on earth I've seen play live as many times as I've seen The Melvins. I think back in '96 I saw them eight times in one year. The rock is strong and the design is top notch. From amazing typography and letterforms to their infamous tour posters, The Melvins always bring the happiest designers to the table. Part of that must come from Mackie Osborne, Buzz Osborne's (Guitar) wife. A dynamic graphic artist in her own right, she has done great covers not only for The Melvins but also for Mr. Bungle and Tool, just to name a handful. Peace on earth and let the ground shake tonight.

Oh, before I end this post I should mention that I was drinking swank style at some $12 dollar a glass hipster bar Friday night called Martini Blu, when, who should I spy slinging drinks and acting all big-fish-in-a-small-pond? Well it was Melissa (Gemini), the latest girl who got booted off Joe Millionaire. I guess she had traded in her Customer Service Rep job for High Society Bartender gig. It's amazing what getting kicked off a reality television show can do for your resume.

February 07, 2003

Our Daily Bread
What really happened and what was really going on in those top secret photos of Mr. Powells. Smoke and mirrors baby (thanks Gwinn).

It turns out that the those Breakfast Club stereotypes are pretty spot on. Well, duh. That's what makes the movie so great.

Siva Vaidhyanathan, author of The Anarchist in the Library, is coming to the Walker Art Center April 8th to lecture/discuss peer-to-peer networking in the global age. It's just one part of the How Latitudes Become Forms exhibit that starts this Saturday night - After hours.

Apple releases a fine article on managing fonts for OS X. And Garage Fonts releases a gaggle of nice new fonts.

Dollarshort has some magnificent photos from her trip to tokyo disney. Looks like a ton of fun and decently weird.

Andersen Windows releases Project Odyssey, which promises:

Through Project Odyssey, Andersen discovered that homes of tomorrow may resemble homes of the past in many ways. New technologies that are rapidly becoming a part of everyday life might be incorporated into window design -- allowing homeowners to free themselves of much of the clutter and complexity filling the home today and once again rely upon the window as the interface for light, air, information and security.

A few of the innovative concepts Andersen has explored through Project Odyssey include an "invisible" insect screen, a micro-ventilation window, and a number of multimedia windows – all of which the company plans to demonstrate in its exhibit (booth #5065) at the 2003 International Builders’ Show in Las Vegas.

SXSW Website finalists are available for your scrutiny and love.

Based on yesterdays beard posting, Elizabeth reminded me of the Chin Curtain Beard Site. It's worth revisiting. Also very worth visiting is Elizabeth's Ode to Johnny Cash on McSweeneys.

Speaking of music, The Roots are coming next week. Also the Shipping News is releasing a new album and going on tour. On their site is a lengthy statement about touring during wartime. Also from their site is a mention of a band called Kinski. Which is by far the best band name I have heard of in a long time.

According to E! Online my favorite reality television show, Temptation Island will be back for another season. Bring on the whoring!

A guy name Jeff gets on his soapbox and writes about his recent experience in Laos and its effect on him as the US gets all amped up for war (thanks mom).

February 06, 2003

I Don't Want to Shave
Lately, I have been letting both my whiskers and the hair on the dome grow and grow. I make a hundred excuses about not having the right razors, not having the time to put together a hair appointment. But the truth is, I just like all my hair and I want to have as much of it as possible. I don't want to cut or shave it. It's got nothing to do with style. I don't look good unshaven and I look even worse with longish hair but I find that I become quite attached to the little follicles and I suffer from brief periods of depression whenever I go under the blade.

Just this morning I shaved off what was becoming a good week and half long facial adventure into beardland. It was great. I was walking taller and feeling warmer with my hairy protection from the winter elements. Then I took the Shick out and put an end to all my little friends. Damn, just like that I had performed a follicle genocide that I am still working through at this late stage of the day.

Hair cuts are worse. I am at least a month overdue for one now and I just can't bring myself to do it. Bob Marley use to talk about his dreadlocks as this spiritual connection to rastafarianism. They could never be cut. Jesus was a locksman. Now, I would look damn silly with dreads, but I feel what Bob was saying. It's a part of your body after all and to just chop and cut pieces of it off, wholesale, with no thought to the cosmic consequences, is equally silly.

For good or ill this phenomenon runs in my family. I've never known my father without his ZZ Top beard. As a kid whenever I asked him about the beard, he always replied that he didn't like shaving, which always seemed strange to me as a boy. But now I think I am beginning to appreciate more of what he was unable to say. It isn't the process of shaving that sucks, it's the little kid you have to look at in the mirror when you are done. Who is that kid?

As I was writing this post the misses emailed me this little piece of information: Men Who Don't Shave Have Less Sex, More Strokes. I guess it's one thing not to shave because of your sloven nature but an entirely different story if your committed to your follicles and their intrinsic beatitude. At least I hope that's the case.

February 05, 2003

Question for MTV
Why do you mute out cuss words for the players in the Real World but beep out the same cuss words for The Osbournes? Why the inconsistent cuss removal policies? It's as inconsistent as US foreign policies.

Impulse Buying
In a quest to replenish foodstuffs last night, a trip to Cosco was called. Who doesn't get kinda giddy at the sight of overstuffed food shelves. The opportunity to purchase ravioli squares bigger than your head or sacks of tortillas that would last a family of ten a whole year can push you to the point of collapse. The mere sight of a 12 gallon barrel of animal crackers, leaves me speechless and impulsive. I can never leave Costco without one horribly impulsive purchase that usually ends up sitting in the pantry for three months, having never been opened. Last nights impulse purchase was the comprehensive 3-CD set, Dance Fever, The Best of Disco. If you want to get the party rockin' -- invite me! I'll bring the Disco Funk, the Celebration, and The Jungle Fever. Best track from Dance Fever is Meco's disco remix of the theme to The Wizard of Oz.

Colin Powell at the UN
Live webcast of US Secretary of State Colin Powell delivering his 'evidence' at 10:30 AM Eastern.

February 04, 2003

The Impending War Between Serif and Sans Serif Typefaces
Things are getting ripe on the battlefield. Already the brand and style guides have been sent out and it's shaping up to be a battle not just of morals and American values but also of line and shape and everything solid that Westerners fight for in the trenches. In subtle ways, but with alarming consequences, graphic designers are already waging their wars and fighting their own battles. From the tag lines and bold graphics on CNN and FOX (Target Iraq! - Showdown with Saddam!), to the propaganda being pumped out of Washington, it's looking like the battle is not over land, oil, or democratic freedoms and the right to watch Joe Millionaire in peace, but rather it's a battle over style and the correct typeface. It's a dual to determine which typefaces are right and which ones are dead wrong.

The lines have been drawn in the dirt and the typefaces have been assigned. The USA, America, and all its heavy action words, will be set in the most noble and boldface sans serif letterforms. Iraq, Saddam, Hans Blix, and other Axis of Evil, will all be set in the most whimsical and lame serif typefaces. Whenever possible, arabic looking script type or ancient calligraphy will be used to indicate the pre-modern conditions that those rogue elements display. This is a fight after all for modernity. It's a fight for all things straight and narrow and for pure western thought that is unhindered by bottom protrusions and old style ideas. The letterforms of a faith based democratic new world must be just and prudent in the expenditure of line and the execution of form. Abandon unsightly decoration which is the achilles heal of the simple minded and the bloodthirsty. Get friendly with Helvetica and Arial. Denounce and cast down your work mates and loved ones whenever they send you baby shower invitations set in Times, Century Schoolbook, or (shudder) Garamond. Enforce these standards with high powered weapons. Keep a small scottish dirk by the office printer, and root out terrorism at its core. You have your orders. Carry on soldier.

February 03, 2003

Moving Day
Here are some photos of the new office being moved into, repaired, and built. To make things complete, I'm on the look out for a nice coat/hat rack. Maybe something made out of old croquet mallets.

Big Monday Mess
The Snowman cometh. In one day we got more accumulated snow than we've received so far this year. It's a fluffy goose down comforter of quite white bliss outside. Thankfully all the snow came at the end of the weekend when it was time to curl up with the Simpsons and warm liqueurs. The rest of the weekend I was busy moving my office, painting, cleaning out old files, and trying to watch CNN and C-SPAN as much as I could. I am positively addicted to C-SPAN. I watched a senate hearing on Iraq last week for three solid hours. I was mesmerized. I highly recommend it. It's one thing to read about Dick Armitage and John Negroponte in the papers but until you see and hear them, you're only getting half the picture. If I was some foreign minister I would loathe to meet with Mr. Armitage. He's one intimidating dude.

I'm very excited about the new office. It's a serious upgrade from where the work was getting done previous. I'll try to post some pictures of the moving and painting later today - the before shots if you will. The spackling, painting, and wiring required multiple trips to The Home Depot. There, I found all canvas painters pants for $4.99 that were contemplated as replacements for all the pants in my wardrobe. Other contemplated wardrobe improvements were the Big Smith Hickory Stripe Bib Overalls. So good.

Space Shuttle on ebay
This guy's little joke is going to cost him an FBI visit or two. Ohh the sad abuses of an open system.