January 31, 2005

Musical Mondays
I hate the radio. Usually whilst autoing around town I prefer to be master of my own musical world. I can't accept for a minute that some loud talking radio DJ, with some silly moniker has got a better grasp of play selection than I. For the most part, I know s/he's a tool that plays the Clear Channel hits and misses. I'll admit, sometimes I tune into the radio just to reinforce how much better my musical selections are than what the current dullards are listening to. I pat myself on the back with an elitist hand and try to contain my smirk of sonic snobbery.

So I was more than a bit put off when my De La Soul Stakes is High cassette tape (which has been in the player for a solid two weeks without a challenger on the horizon), came to the end of side one and while the car stereo figured out the mechanics of flipping to side two switched me back over to FM radio and more precisely to our new 'alternative' radio station here in town called The Current (89.3). Weezer's "My Name is Jonas" was just starting up and I was feeling it big time. So much so that when the tape finally managed side two and switched back from FM to tape, I had to stab wildly at the dash to get my damn Weezer song back.

Surprisingly, a string of good tunes followed Weezer and it wasn't until about five songs in that the station farted a bad note and I was forced back to my De La tape. A five song run is like a worlds record for me and radio. My guess is that this bodes well for me returning to serendipity sessions with The Current. But If I actually like what they're playing that probably means they'll be off the air by the time my De La tape reaches the end of side two.

Here are some albums that have been rocking afrojet radio:

Pete Rock The Surviving Elements - From Soul Survivor II Sessions

Amon Tobin - Chaos Theory: Splinter Cell 3 (Soundtrack from the Video Game)

Ted Leo & The Pharmacists - Shake the Sheets

Decibully - Sing Out America (Pre-release, thanks Brian)

Funkadelic - Standing On The Verge of Getting It On (Featuring the amazing tune: Jimmy's Got a Little Bit of Bitch In Him)

De La Soul - The Grind Date

Fennesz - Venice

The Ruts - Something I Said (The Best of The Ruts)

Cedric Im Brooks - The Light of Saba

Wagon Christ - Sorry I Make You Lush

Also, The Postal Service video from the guy who directed Napoleon Dynamite.

January 26, 2005

Peanuts Controversy
The Daily Show in Saint Paul. Rob Corddry asks the 25,000 dollar question.

War All The Time: Chapter 17
I have marked my age with a candy-colored pop-culture yard-stick. But I am getting older and the yard-stick...well shit, I have no idea where it went. I lost it. Last time I saw it, it was being used by an attention deficit youth who wielded it like a sword upon my wrists and ankles. Hell, I'm surprised I lasted this long actually. There were those last few Star Wars movies that I didn't understand and frankly didn't go see. I guess that was the start of my slide into clueless old person. But now it seems really pronounced. Or is it pervasive. Maybe ubiquitous is really the right word.

It's kinda sad when we begin to realize that our time of dominance and hold on the pinnacle of youth culture is no more. Maybe it was watching VH1's 100 Greatest Metal Moments last night and realizing for good or ill that that was my time. That was many years ago. Oh the nostalgia for the uncynical years of Metal.

There are two things currently that my aging cynical mind just doesn't get: obsession and the acquisition of ring tones for your mobile phone and the predominance of violent first person shooter video games. My video gaming begins and ends with Astroids, Donkey Kong, Mrs. Pac-Man. Innocent, abstract, easy to learn and easily dismissed. A novelty really. Enjoyed with others over pizza at the arcade. But the new crop of games leaves me baffled. Maybe it's stories like this one about robots fighting in Iraq controlled by Gameboy type controllers that feeds my hyper-paranoid sci-fi mind about the increased use of games that both train us for, and dull our senses against, the real violence of war. I begin to envision a not-too-distant future where West Point is replaced by an Xbox and all wars in the future are fought by 11 year-old kids who control the instruments of killing from the confines of their bedroom somewhere in Omaha. Armies are nothing but linked up kids playing some real Matthew Broderick type Wargames. Medals of honor are replaced by gift-certificates to Best Buy for the kids who kill the most. That shit's inevitable but will those kids ever know the power of a George Lynch speed arpeggio or a Rob Halford vocal firestorm. Me thinks no.

January 24, 2005

Chicago Invisible
Back from a whirlwind trip through Chi-town. Had a great time in crazy conditions. The snow came down in epic volumes and dropped visibility to almost zero for most of the trip. I learned that when Chicagoans talk about the 'Lake Effect' what they really mean is, 'look out for the fucking horizontal snow'. The Great White Out of 2005 was intense and hazardous while being somewhat calm and eerily quiet. It's actually fun to watch a blizzard like that come in from the confines of your hotel. You don't really have to deal with it if you don't want to. It is, however, no fun to get home at 9PM the following night and then have to spend the next few hours shoveling out your house and cars.

The Jacqueline Kennedy exhibit at the Field Museum was a definite highlight of the trip. That women was amazing. Queen of the pillbox hat. Millennium Park, although closed for the winter and under heavy construction was beautiful. Definitely have to go back there in the summer some time. I was so bummed the cloud sculpture or what the Chicagoans refer to as the 'giant silver bean' was all under wraps. Wandered down to Navy Pier to check out the ferris wheel. Man was I stoked when I learned that it was in full operation and for just $5 I could take a ride. And with the weather being what it was, I was the only one on it. My own personal ferris wheel!

Also had an amazing meal at Joe's. The Alaskan king crab legs and blackened mahi mahi were definitely the best meal I've had of 2005. I salivate just thinking about it.

Huge thanks to the friends that chauffeured, cooked meals, and drank Grey Goose gimlets along the way. Who cares if it's an old lady drink as long as it's good.

Took a few snaps in between white out conditions. Here's a little chicago slideshow you can watch if you've got Flash installed.

January 20, 2005

Windy City
Heading out to chi-town in a few hours. Really looking forward to the temperature difference. Currently it's nine degrees warmer down there. Should feel like spring.

The first issue of JPG Magazine is out. Looks very nice.

More Swedish goodness.

Rachael Ray atop the McSweeney's recommendations. I can get behind that.

Viceland got a whole mess a good content this month. It's the design issue. Any aspiring designer can learn from this sage wisdom from The Vice A to Z of Design, "[re Fonts] Despite what French Canadians and Afro-Americans want you to believe, less is more...[re Hooters] Short on ideas? Toss a couple of tits in your layout for instant wows. Combine with formulas for commercial success. Sorry, but it's that easy...[re Rushing] The life of a designer is rushing to wait and then waiting to rush." Also a fine article on the iHustle.

Vote for Pedro Sanchez

January 18, 2005

Lactose Intolerant
We're just now starting to come out of our frigid cold snap. And man was it a mean one. I was down for most of the weekend with galactic bowel performances brought on by my increased slide (juvenile pun intended) into lactose intolerance. This weekends bout was triggered by an unassuming cafe macchiato consumed from Bob's Java Hut Saturday night.

I am stubborn and am having trouble coming to grips with my L.I. I am in full denial about it in fact. I eat ice cream with two middle fingers aimed squarely at my stomach. But the counter punch from my quivering abdomen is like a first round K.O. from Hilary Swank circa Million Dollar Baby. "How you like me now, Be'otch" screams my lower G.I., as I frantically try and focus on the words of a Harpers article in between burst of screaming pain. "I'll bet you'll think twice next time before eating that ice cream!"

I need to move past this denial faze fast. Luckily, my L.I. isn't complete and total. I can still eat cheese and eggs seem to be ok. But anything with creams or heavy dairy sauces put me down. French food is completely off my menu. Pasta with cream sauce? No way. My biggest fear is that my L.I. will get worse and soon even an unassuming Pizza Luce pizza will send shivers through my bowels. This would be very sad.

In between bathroom visits this weekend I watched two good documentaries courtesy of my new love, GreenCine. Born Rich is a fun flick about the 21 year-old heir of the Johnson & Johnson fortune who tries to get a grip on all the money he's going to inherit by interviewing all these rich kids that he knows. He tries to get them to talk about their money and explain what it means to be a kid who doesn't have to do a lick of work to get cash. Made me wonder if rich people get irritable bowels. I might also recommend the Andy Goldsworthy documentary Rivers and Tides. This Scotsman does some inspired work. I've been a fan for a long time. It was great to get a glimpse at his creative process. More Goldsworthy here and here.

Also, huge props to Bill Shatner for his Golden Globe win. I haven't seen your show but I'm positive you deserved it.

And, cool t-shirts by archinect and amazing furniture by henrybuilt.

January 14, 2005

TranSKAontinental
Had a great time last night seeing my brother rock the keyboards at the debut show of the Second Hand Ska Kings. Loved it! Great energy. Old school dance ska. A blistering cover of Jimmy Cliff's 'You Can Get It If You Really Want' they did rip. The bands secret lies in the power of their dueling trombones. I skanked hard. The odd thing of it is, here we are in the bar, drinking Red Stripes, skankin' and, listening to jamaican ska music but outside...it's negative 30 fucking degrees out. My skankin' hat had furry earflaps for christsakes. Something very wrong about that scenario. Or maybe it's so wrong that it doubles back upon itself to become perfectly right. Like a skateboard trick that looks like it will end in peril and injury but ends up jaw-drop-perfect.

Before I forget, these childhood pictures of rock stars are amusing. Love the one of Ozzy with the little hat. Also the one of Billie Joe from Green Day is adorable. If my memory serves me right, I don't recall Billie Joe looking any older than that photo the first time he toured Green Day through Minnesota.

On a slightly different note, is anyone else watching this great PBS series on the history of aviation called Chasing The Sun? The latest episode, 'Into the Jet Age', was the best yet. Sweet footage from the golden age of aviation. A tight 1960's government film entitled 'The Sonic Boom and You". Airline Stewardesses in hot pants. Howard Hughes. The battle for speed and luxury. Too good. I think someone needs to release a kitsch CD of all the old 60's and 70's airline advertisement songs. I've found two that are very good (song one | song two).

Also, before there was the airline Ted their was Sam. Airline baggage labels from all over the world. Pan Am brochures.

January 13, 2005

Get Your Winter Drawers On
"A Jedi must always be well equipped for any circumstance. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a loyal and disciplined Jedi, is often sent by the Jedi Council to resolve matters on worlds where the environment is very cold. He often must prepare for these missions by bringing special gear with him to handle the colder temperatures."

That about sums it up here from Planet Hoth. This weekend is really shaping up. 72 hours of temperatures no higher than 1 degree. I may have to sleep in the belly of a Ton Ton just to stay warm.

Great picture this morning of the Aerial Lift Bridge in Duluth. Weather is a strange thing.

Some gear I am currently a) coveting, b) afraid of and c) using to battle Old Man Winter:

Impossible to find but the Russian Made Spetsnaz is at the top of my list. If it's good enough for exile in Siberia, it should do the trick around here.

The good folks at the Duluth Trading Company consistently have the best gear. Check out the extreme cold weather gloves that are 'ice proof'. Great illustration of somebody dipping their hand in an icy frozen lake.

For your wicking layer, that would be your first, snug fitting layer of clothing, I'm partial to the Survivor style buff, mostly because watching this british (australian?) guy talk about it is hilarious. Also for the wicking layer, the Under Armor Hood and the Balacava get the job done. Careful with the Balacava tho as some police officers will shoot you on site if they see you wearing one.

Next for the lips I recommend some Rosebud Salve followed by a chaser of Wild Turkey Rare Breed. Keep the lips protected and your insides warm and happy at all times. A good flask is your best friend.

Finally, got to keep the machine happy with the insulated icover.

January 12, 2005

Wireless Media Center + Hands Free Vacuum = iVac
Yup, I was one of those people waiting with baited breath to see what kind of tricks Mr. Steve Jobs was going to pull out of his hat at the MacWorld Expo. He came with his micronautical iPod shuffle, he dazzled everyone with the cheep cheep iMac mini. He even threw in a new Word Processing application called Pages, daring everyone in attendance to try it. But really there wasn't much to chew on for those of us who have already committed to bigger more costly machines and have no use for these cheeper smaller products that will no doubt finally get Mr. Jobs products on the shelves of Walmart. So I offer up my own suggestion, cause I know Steve Jobs is a reader of the 'jet [call me, baby] for a future Apple product - the iVac (patent pending).

Yes iVac cleans your floors (hands free). Yes it replaces your TiVo, your DVD player. Yes iVac is the ultimate wireless hub. And yes you can take it for walks around your neighborhood. It's even programed to bark in seven dog styles. Download a couple gigs of porn onto iVac then walk it over to your neighbors house where you can watch it, all while it does their housework. The perfect gift for that Desperate Housewife. This thing kicks ass people. Technical specs are still on the hush hush. I'll let you know more as it comes to me.

January 10, 2005

Team Zissou
Sign an online petition to get Adidas to release the Adidas Zissou.

It reads:
We, the undersigned, request that Adidas release the Adidas Rom "Zissou" as seen in the feature film "The Life Aquatic." Currently, the shoe is not in production and is unavailable for public sale. Examples were customized solely for use in "The Life Aquatic" by the production staff's costume department. Since the film's release, there has been tremendous consumer interest in the Adidas Rom Zissou. This petition should serve as evidence for this interest and as feedback for Adidas to produce this shoe.

For Every Defeat There Shall Be A Victory
Oh what a crushing loss. I realized yesterday, somewhere between Brett Favre's third and fourth interception, that it's not so much that I love the Packers (that can't be questioned) but damn I have equal parts hate for the Vikings. In fact, I just can't hate them enough. My supply of hate is not bound by conventional sports wisdom that traditionally follows big trains of hair hype and turnaround bandwagons. I wish so many bad things upon my hometown team that I better stop typing about it now before I confess too much, and you gentle reader, think me some kind of maniacal hyena who puts way too much on the weekly whims of a floating pig skin.

After receiving such a defeat as the one that I was dealt yesterday, I knew my luck would turn around if I could just get to the bar and swim peacefully in a tide pool of Jim Beam whiskey. Thank god the pool was open! Friday night I had lost all my money to a pack of of bandits that call themselves the Lost Marbles. When I left the tables at 5 AM Saturday morning, I was a much poorer man, in all respects.

With Friday/Saturday's financial losses still fresh on my mind and the smell of the Packers turd still fresh in my nose, I sauntered over to the local country bar where the band is always excellent because the singer sounds exactly like Elvis Presley making love to a peanut butter and banana sandwich. Before I could even order a drink the Pull-Tab stand called out to me, beckoning me, seducing me with those flashy plastic tubular rope lights that were blinking alternating colors of blue, green, purple and pink. It was a moment my friends of magical realism. Never have I been so sure about anything in my whole life then when I walked up to the window to pull me a championship Pull-Tab. I bought ten when I knew I only needed one. I asked the old lady working the stand for 'ten good ones'. I felt a connection with the Pull Tab lady. She knew what I was after. Even in her homemade embroidered purple Vikings sweatshirt her empathy for this sorry beaten man in front of her, this poor loser handing over his drinking money, was crushingly heartfelt. And then boom. First pull. $150. Two tridents and a King's crown with a thick red line passing through all three was all it took to turn the weekend upside down on it's damaged little head. Whoop. Whoop. Gave her a $10 tip and then the drinks were on me. Fuck the Packers. At least I am still a winner.

One last curious question for this Monday morning. Where do all the sweet old ladies who work in the hundreds of Pull-Tab cages throughout Minnesota bars come from? Why are they there? What is it about the the job that seems to attract the exact same person wherever you go? Is it written into the state gambling laws? I don't know but god bless them just the same.

January 07, 2005

Mooking
The Good Doctor weighs in with his definition of 'Mook', ruminates on the reasons we mook, and delivers a brief story about collegiate mooking in a Colorado Walgreens.

mook (mook) vt. (from mooke) 1 to use hands or fingers to covertly smash or squish soft grocery items or packaged foodstuffs so as to cause them to change shape and form within packaging. 2 to make a small "mook" sound with the mouth while smashing or squishing soft grocery items and packaged foodstuffs. 3 any combination of 1 and 2 above - mook*ing, -mook*

For me the pure joy of mooking is threefold:

1. The Dada ridiculousness of being an adult and doing something nonsensical and mildly rebellious.

2. The tactile satisfaction of squishing and breaking things.

3. A way to strike back in a small way against giant faceless chain store corporations.

(My) friend and I used to play a game at stores in college called "mooking" where one person would say "mook" in this weird high voice and then we would try to squish or smash more soft merchandise than the other person. It was a verb as in: "Dude, did you see those generic fruit pies that I mooked?" It was almost impossible to not laugh out loud when a mooked item would suddenly burst from its package and gush sauce or filling all over your hand or coat sleeve. Some things like Wonder Bread or marshmallows could be mooked slowly and tenderly while terrible pecan pies in the checkout line were brutally and quickly smashed to bits. It was definitely a "one up" type of contest where the most ridiculous or terrible products were the first victims and one tried to mook larger and larger items before collapsing with laughter or getting caught. Once a clerk saw my friend D. with both hands in a bin of Peeps but it was as if he had the force and she could't process the reality of a grown man smashing colored marshmallow birds out of spite so she just didn't react at all.

January 06, 2005

Winter Garden
These three crippled heroes are the last tomatoes and represent all that's left from what was once a glorious summer garden. I wonder what they taste like...

January 05, 2005

Walgreens
So there I was at Walgreens, breaking my promise for the hundredth time that I would never, never ever ever go into a Walgreens again. But the household needed Ice Melt and an extension cord and shit maybe some gum drops, the kind with little sugar crystals on the outside. Such a motley crew of items can only be purchased at a few unique locations. Walgreens being the closest and most consistently open. But damn, Walgreens, especially on cold winter nights, is a lunatic hangout, an open door asylum for zombies and the unattractive, unwanted and unwelcomed banshees that haunt the stores isles with their dried apricot faces and pickled postures. It's like having a haunted house open in your neighborhood 365 days a year.

Unfortunately, I have a neighbor who is one of these people. She lives alone in the second story of a house owned by a sweet old women who watches television all day with headphones in her ears. I can see the old woman right now from my second story home-office window. My window looks right down into her living room. I can see the back of her silver head. She's watching a morning news program. She's there all day, just like I'm up here almost all day looking into my machine. The crazy lady who lives upstairs from the old woman takes her cigarette breaks outside and I swear she tries to time them at exactly the same time that I take mine. She mumbles things to herself and occasionally will break out in hysterical cackling laughter. It's truly terrifying when she does this. She also spends an alarming amount of time grazing at Walgreens. The few times I've seen her there she is always transfixed on one thing. One product. I've witnessed her browsing an end cap forever. She'll pick up and inspect one of the dozens, put it back and then move surgically to the next one. Repeating this until all have been inspected. Every so often she'll cackle with excitement. It gives me chills just writing about it.

There are two places where standing in line as a costumer seem like time vortexes to me. One is the post office and the other is Walgreens. When in line at either of these places, I am overwhelmed with a sense of dread and am quickly filled with the urgency of my own existence. Sometimes the feeling is so strong that I simply drop all my goods and leave the store. Sometimes, I find it helps if I squish one of those candy bars in the check out lane or find anything else that I can break by simply crushing it in my hand and put it back without anyone noticing. Extremely therapeutic. We all have our coping strategies. And strategies you need for these checkout lines. You could be behind two people at Walgreens, each with two items to buy and it would still take you 20 minutes before it's your turn to check out. Every conceivable problem that could go wrong between clerk and consumer does. It's like the two are speaking entirely different languages to one another. Then there's the transaction: expired coupons, coupon arguments, product too expensive, product undesired ('Actually I don't think I want that'), undesired product taken away and hence becomes desirable again (!?!), unknown cigarette brand, check writing, price check, price doesn't exist. The list is infinite and the customer gets creative especially when they combine five or six of these in one seesion. The shit is just epic.

In a desperate move the other day, I bought an ice scraper for the car at Walgreens. It made four scrapes and then snapped in half like a dry twig. Gracefully, I swiveled Northwest on the ball of my right foot, then, in the direction of Walgreens, I did hurl one half of that piece of shit scraper as far as I could. I swear I will never, never ever ever go to Walgreens again.

January 03, 2005

Keepin' It Alive in '05
Hope everyone had a nice little vacation. It's been a time of good relaxation here. Books have been crushed. Good movies watched. Took in the new year with Bill Murray. The Life Aquatic is a fine film. Got to get me a pair of those limited edition "Steve Zissou" Adidas sneakers. Starting the new year with Mr. Bill Murray brings hope and happiness to the coming year. Watched two other fine flicks: Napoleon Dynamite (finally), and Fishing with John. If you haven't seen fishing with John, put it on your list. My favorite episode was John Lurie and William DaFoe braving the elements during a tragic ice fishing adventure in Maine.

The last few days have found me in a frantic state of purging and archiving. My trash man is going to earn his money this week. Huge drops at the Goodwill. The shredder whines and pleads for mercy from all the pulp that I demand it rip. Photos get organized. Correspondences get categorized. New shelving systems get built. Systems get backed up. Staplers get reloaded. Dust and clutter are the enemies of '04. They have both been fought and destroyed. Tabula Rasa on the horizon. Move up. Move on.