March 20, 2003

March 19, 2003

Afrojet in Full Retreat
Well the time has come for me to leap forth into the great beyond. It's time to seize all that I have. It's time to shred that one last wispy tinsel of dignity I was clinging to with so much hope and belief and toss that shit straight in the air.

Yes sir it's vacation time for this artful dodger and pixel pusher. I'm up to my teeth in digital drama and the temptations of leisure suit seductresses. It's time to get the heck out of dodge, go rural. shoot guns, drink whisky and listen to Iron Maiden at full volume. Provided that we aren't at war (oh shit..literally as I am writing this, John Norris on MTV is interrupting 'A Sorority Life' to tell me we are at war - the bombing has begun - shit! - save the sorority girls, please). Ok, and now Bush is going to talk to us later this evening. I have a feeling that this bottle of Jack Daniels that was purchased this evening will be totally consumed before I even get to my plane early tomorrow morning. Man, I am going to be pissed if my plane gets grounded. Damn you Bush. You've fucked everything else up, please don't mess up my vacation anymore than you already have.

Damn, I had a lot more to say in this post. I wanted to leave you all with great pearls of wisdom before I head out west but the television and Mr. Daniels are demanding my attention tonight. Five minutes to Bush's speech. I'm not really sure what my connectivity will be over the next ten days while I gallivant up and down the old 101. Suffice it to say, posting will be infrequent, incoherent, or simply nonexistent. So you'll just have to reread this post over and over again. Fear not though people, I am with you and you are with me. I leave you with this fine line from the new Beastie Boys song:

"George Bush you're looking like Zoolander
Trying to play tough for the camera"

Further reading can be found at peace blogs, true majority, united for peace, iraqbodycount, tom paine.

PEACE.

March 18, 2003

A.J. Soprano jr. versus George Bush jr.
I've come to the whole Sopranos phenomenon very late in the game. For years I've heard about this amazing show on HBO that I have been missing out on. I'd call friends on Sunday nights, seeing if they want to go out for a drink or play some dice, only to get: "Sorry dude, The Sopranos are on tonight."

Curious but not altogether enthusiastic, I went to Netflix and buried the first season of The Sopranos DVD deep in the queue. Well, the disks started showing up and I devoured them with a pace not seen since the missus rented DVD's from that other hit HBO show, the one about girls who buy shoes. On a good night I can get through like three episodes before my language becomes really foul and I start talking about people in the third person and plotting my next score. It's sad - I know, but I am a living testament to the the axiom that 'you are what you watch'. Ever since Rambo: First Blood, when for four days after watching the movie, I moved around my house flat on my belly crawling on my elbows plotting ambushes on enemy pets, I was a television hero worshiper.

I watched a few episodes of The Sopranos last night after watching George Bush's Oval Office orgy of lies and ill-mandated war perversion talk. His insatiable appetite for blood is nothing I want any part of. Anyhoo, I was struck by how much little Anthony Soprano and his relationship to his father, is so much like our hanging chad president and his father. If you change the names and the context it's oddly similar. Try it out on this passage from The Sopranos web site:

"If A.J. were capable of following in his father's footsteps, his difficulties might not be a problem - after all, Tony was no scholar. But Tony has always been tough, resourceful and post-doctorate-level street smart; A.J. isn't. He's basically a sweet kid, of average intelligence, who's trying to cope with the fact his dad kills people."

Cool huh? Basically A.J. Soprano Jr., like George Bush Jr. is a sad anti-social kid who doesn't know how to play with any of his friends in any appropriate and adjusted manner. In each episode he seems to isolate himself more and more with only his violent Nintendo games as his tool of communication.

This excerpt form Alexander Cockburn's piece on Counterpunch today seems to be tapping into the same juvenile thinking vibe of our child-soporano-president who has little patience for an adult understanding of international realities and the grown-up consequences of his actions,

"There is something scary about the guy, (not Saddam, our commander in chief). We really do have one fanatical fellow sitting there in the Oval Office. You can sniff the anger stewing around in his psyche. Talk about slow cooking! Bush has been on a slow boil since childhood, probably since Pop was off gallivanting around Mexican oil towns and he listened to Mom seething in a hot kitchen in Midland, defiantly letting her hair go white."

More on this theory as I get into the second season of DVD's.

March 17, 2003

Yes to Spring, No to War!
A deep thick fog has swallowed up my city. The war is already on for my mood and general disposition. Right now my right brain is conquering my left in a murderous game of Stratego, and I'm holding on trying to remain positive and keep my bad brains alive with P.M.A.

I'm trying not to let all this war talk get to me - not yet anyway. I have a feeling that when the illegal invasion goes down this blog of mine could go from mild daily musings to just downright boring complaining. No one wants that, least of all me. There are so many better things to write about then silly monkeys in white houses who slowly go insane and murder people. Like, hell - It's Saint Pat's day - drink up! And holy crap I got to watch one of my all time favorite bands, The Police play live for the first time in 18 years at the R'n'R hall of fame. I think it's high time those boys check the egos at the door and start writing some powerful new songs.

I finally got to see Love Liza and was floored by this movie. Shit, while i'm planning my utopian entertainment, how about Jack Nicholson and Phillip Symore Hoffman make a movie and The Police do the soundtrack. Ok, that might not be a good idea.

Spring has officially left its watermark on this town. Today's foggy bottom falls on the coat tails of a welcomed weekend warm up. I got me bike out of storage and cleaned up and I'm all set to start commuting on two wheels again. The best news of all is that I bought a new digital camera this weekend. I was looking for something micro and portable that was durable and could be used in the rain. The winning camera was the Olympus Stylus 300. I love this camera. I took it for a walk yesterday to document what happens to a city when all the trash that's been hidden in snow banks is left naked and scattered on the ground in the wake of the big meltdown. Here is the result.

March 14, 2003

I bought this record at the Salvation Army today. It's a recording from some crazy jesus music festival freakdown - woodstock style - attended by 180,000 in 1972. It's got a great Johnny Cash song called, "I See Men as Trees Working".

March 12, 2003

Beasties Record a Fight Song
You know the world's gone mad when the Beastie Boys are forced to come out of a five year retirement to give us the first good anti-war song. The revolution will be funky ya'll.

Speaking of funky music, I went to Guitar Center last night to help Mr. Chavez buy a turntable (he want's to do his part to fight the war by learning to scratch). I was looking for a turntable too - something more portable though. It was a weird scene at the Guitar Center. The joint was packed with young doughy rockers carrying their six stringers on their backs. Each was waiting in line to take their shot at winning the grand prize in an event that was appropriately titled, Guitarmageddon. It was nuts. While looking over the Technic 1200's I heard this incredible guitar solo. When I wandered over and poked my head into the room that was hosting the event, I saw this little 13 year old kid staring at the ground, looking very awkward but just pumping out the jams Steve Vai style on this tiny stage. I could tell by the look of fear in the rest of the contestants eyes that the bar was being raised with every speedy arpeggio.

So much for that. Back to my protest song mix tape.

March 11, 2003

Not in My Backyard
Yikees. We caught us a big one here in Minnesota. To wit,

Lawmaker condemned by Holocaust survivor now accused of racism
"Rep. Arlon Lindner, already facing severe criticism over his statements about gays and lesbians and the Nazi Holocaust, was accused of racism on the House floor Monday after saying his bill to strip gays and lesbians of state human rights protections would save America from becoming 'another African continent.'"

I am a huge fan when another lawmaker is ferreted out of congress for holding ancient social views of the world. And happier still when they tie the noose around their own neck and save us all the job of having to further expose these creeps for the screwheads they are. When a lawmakers makes a slip, as was the case with Trent Lott, or when, in the case of our own Minnesota lawmaker, Arlon Lindner, you actually propose what you think is an innocuous bill to remove same-sex privileges from the Minnesota statutes, I am happy to report that you will find yourself hunted down Tony Soprano style by a city of industry who won't put up with that shit for a minute. Take your sad ass back to whatever dark place in Minnesota spawned your hate.

The best part of the whole ordeal is watching a feeble man like Arlon Lindner start to unravel. Under the pressure of pissed off lawmakers and ordinary citizens, you begin to see Mr. Lindner's mad as hell - he's painfully out of touch, he's puzzled that the blacks and queers have numbers and are willing to fight - he tries to strengthen his defense with shrouds of racism and demented analogies that are meant to give us the fear. The deep bigotry and racism rise to the surface like a festering boil and then - POW! that shit explodes and we scream in disgust and horror. You're done in this town Arlon.

March 10, 2003

Afrojet at work.

Pages From a Cold Island
The gatefold of weather possibilities here in sunny Minnesota have become alarming and disconcerting. I'm heading into a week when the temperature will rise from yesterdays low of -3 degrees to a predicted high of something that might topple 61 degrees by weeks end. I am moronic on the occurrence of weather patterns but a striking 64 degree warmup spread over a few scant days doesn't strike me as a good thing for the streets of Minneapolis. The load could easily become too hefty to bear. What will happen to the six new inches of blinding white snow that fell over the weekend? Where will it all go man?

This may sound like I'm making a grave situation out of a wonderful event (it's going to be golfing weather by the end of the week), but just as too much acceleration on the windy roads of the Californian 101 can launch you into poor man Jacobsen's wine fields, this kind of rapid dance towards springtime will unleash a marathon of odd behavior. And in light of these dire times and full throttle war mongering, there is a cold hearted chance that we'll be at war by the time the temperature tops sixty in these parts.

Besides the colossal event of over six inches of fresh snow melting all at once, there's the unpleasantness of the Minnesota stark white scare, when the cabin crazy and pale white dolphins emerge from their suburban hibernation and swim into the blinding sunlight of the day. They all get silly and excited about the possibility of springs ascension and strap on Bermuda's and baby-tees when the thermo reads a balmy 45. By friday afternoon the streets will be congested with joggers, freshly attired and already trying to get the old spare tire off the SUV. The melted snow and dirty puddles will make things difficult for everyone. Things will turn nasty. We will be seduced into the possibility of a spring, the idea and all it's treasures, and only when we have tee times all lined up and have made designs to spend the weekend down at the marina getting the boat ready, only then will old man winter make his final stand - plunging us back into a headstrong week of bitter times and forgiveness. I will be ready.

March 07, 2003

Fashion Issue
hat
in the left ear ¦ in the right ear
vegan scarf
jacket
t-shirt ¦ t-shirt
watch on left wrist ¦ watch on right wrist
gloves
what's in my left hand ¦ what's in my right hand
pants
what's on my left foot ¦ what's on my right foot
under my feet

March 06, 2003

Making it Good with Fire Marks
Another bitterly cold morning. It's hard to imagine that spring break is only two weeks away when it's still -5 degrees out. Yesterday was a crazy and happy day. I have survived yet another launch day. This time the client was a big one who probably sells you some kind of insurance. The website/app that I have been laboring over for a month now was a blast to build. It was jam packed with some fun real-time gizmos (technical term) for employees to communicate with and compete against each-other. After launching it early yesterday morning, and then watching the first people in the New York offices begin to use it, a damn big sigh of relief went out and a gargantuan weight was lifted as the numbers started rolling in and nothing was breaking. One of the things I enjoy most out of this line of work is the instant gratification you get after you design and build something. It can't be beat. The only worry came around 2pm as a critical mass of users started hitting the servers. I think I could hear the little guys whining and moaning and they labored to push out pixels and data to the hungry hoards. But even in that I could find a bit of masochistic joy.

Working with the client over the last few weeks, I had the chance to discover their fairly extensive collection of Insurance Fire Marks. Fire Marks are relatively small (usually about 10'' by 10''), nicely designed, solid steal plates that use to be affixed to buildings when they were built. The mark would display the name of the company who was responsible for insuring that building. Thus, if and when the building ever burnt down, they could find the Fire Mark in the remains and know who to go to in order to get paid. The typography on the Fire Marks alone makes me want to start an instant collection. If it ever warms up here in Minnesota, maybe I'll hit a flee market or two and see if I can't find a couple.

March 04, 2003

World Leader Icons for the Dumb
My memory sucks. Frankly, it's probably the number one reason I have for keeping a weblog. At little over a year old, this infant blog is still crawling, spitting, shitting itself daily, and doing all the fun things you would expect from a crying toddler. Sometimes I glance at the shit I was writing about a year ago and I can barely remember it happening. It's like I'm reading someone else's blog. I think my brain is on some minimalist vibe and doesn't want to clutter things up with old thoughts, names, places, and ideas. It's on a lifelong mission to keep things clean and simple. The one room in my brain that gets cleaned the most is surely the "Names of World Leaders Room". Most of their names are hard to begin with, coups and wars mean the deck is ever changing and it's hard to keep on top of whose ruling where and whose coming up. But these days are numbered now that I have found Totto Renna's desktop icons of world leaders. Now I have a decent load of little leaders assigned to various drives and folders on my computer that I am forced to deal with daily. My retention is going way up. The downside is, already today, I've had a bloody coup of my own and Fidel unseated Kofi as ruler of my hard drive. I also still have some Paul Frank icons running around my desktop, so the whole geopolitical vibe of my machine can only be described as a "terse cuteness".

Reading Leaflets
I was slumming it over at ebay, thinking that I might find some of those leaflets that our boys have been dropping over Iraq, when we aren't busy dropping bombs already, but I couldn't find any. I did however find this auction for an Iraq news website. I had no idea that people were putting up their sites for auction on ebay. I wonder how much I would get for afrojet? My guess is the Iraq news website wont get one bid, but these are strange times.

The reason I was looking for the leaflets on ebay was that I mistakenly thought those leaflets wouldn't be public information. I guess I was wrong. In fact there is a government run website that posts all the leaflets that we drop on any given day. The designs of which look like they were put together by graphic designers still going through puberty. Sitting in the back of the class they scrawl and draw oblong G.I. Joe figures on their three ring binders with wishful out of proportion arnold schwarzenegger muscles and planes bursting into flames in the background.

For a comparison, check out the Vietnam War leaflets and the hateful but interesting graphical work of some WWII leaflets. And then, when you're really ready to check out something weird, go to Kim Jong Il's site. Now that should be auctioned off on ebay! While you're there don't miss the creepy rollover graphic for a button called "Friendship and Activities".

March 03, 2003

Musicians United to Win Without War
Well that settles it. If Missy Elliot is against the war with Iraq, than I'm definitely not down with it either. As Missy would say, "End the drama people - kill it with a skillet!". It's nice to see Missy up there with the usual list of anti-war musicians like Fugazi and Ani DiFranco. In fact, there are a ton of hip hop artists on the list.

Minneapolis Lysistrata Reading
"The first-ever world-wide theatrical event for peace is coming to a city near you on Monday, March 3rd, 2003! Theatre artists from around the planet are raising their collective voice against war by producing public readings of Aristophanes' comedy Lysistrata in order to: Let the Bush Administration know that we oppose their war on Iraq."

Old School Blogging Device
This is an advertisement from a Johnson Smith Catalog (ebay!) circa sometime around the 1940's. For only 12 bucks you could have walked away with your very own printing press with double rollers (great for teachers!). On the opposite page is this advertisement for whole cases of 8 through14 point Kabel type (one of my favorites). So for less than $15 bucks you could have started your very own daily leaflet and journal print shop. Opening the catalog to five random pages you get:

1. Secrets of Ventriloquism - 25¢
2. Robert Burns Cigars (5 Cigars) - 50¢ - great packaging!
3. Telegraph set (For Boys) - 15¢
4. Smoking Eyes - 35¢ - "You casually smoke a cigarette and then to the amazement of everyone the smoke comes 'out of your eyes.' Watch the doctors run for their cases; the ladies for the fire wagon."
5. Brudder Gardner Stump Speeches - 25¢