February 27, 2006

Suspenders and Handplanes
The MVP Tool Of The Weekend Award goes to the vintage wise old Handplane. I began building a platform bed this weekend and the handplane was essential in shaping the wood with deadly accuracy. I reached for the handplane out of desperation when I wasn't getting the results I wanted from my sander. Who knew that this tool, which until yesterday had been patiently collecting dust - watching all its modern electric replacements get all the attention, was all business. Poised and solid, it removed only what was asked and left an edge so clean that I immediately turned to all the lesser tools in the garage and scolded them for not being more like the handplane. My new woodworking mantra is: if it was good enough for the Romans then it's good enough for me.

For awhile the effect of the handplane was dizzying. I thought about selling all the modern tools and becoming more like that crazy Roy Underhill guy from PBS. I'd even rock those suspenders and grow the stash! Or maybe I had to go Japanese and get really zen with my woodworking. Walk around the workshop in my bare feet and get into insanely intricate joinery projects that required Jackie Chan style flexibility and hyper dovetail lunacy.

Perhaps that's still a far off dream and probably not very realistic or smart. But the lesson I'm taking away from this is that sometimes the traditional technologies can be the best tools. Even if you don't own a pair of suspenders.

February 22, 2006

Hunting The Queen
Security breach! Alert Donald Rumsfeld, the exterior perimeter of the Skelton Ranch has been compromised. SUV sized black ants have come in from the cold and are foraging in the upstairs bathroom. Fucking yuck. My fear is that we are being overtaken by terrorist Carpenter Ants. If this is the case, we got problems. These guys are big and black, which unfortunately for them makes 'em easy targets against the white walls and white tile of our bathroom. The vacuum cleaner has been working overtime to suck up these little devils. The cats sit transfixed watching them meander about. Last night, I located a small hole tucked in the corner between a ceiling beam and the interior wall. I stuck a Johnson & Johnson mint flavored toothpick in their portal and haven't seen an ant in the bathroom since. My theory is, if they chew through the tooth pick then they are definitely carpenter ants.

My preliminary intelligence gathering on Carpenter Ants tells me I should abandon any DIY strategies for their total annihilation. Bummer really, as I had imagined I would take a similar approach to our campaign in Iraq - use the 870 Remington shotgun and just start indiscriminately blasting holes in the walls. 'Learn from our leaders' is my motto. Nope, I think we're going to have to hire professional assassins for this job. Apparently, you have to hunt down and silently take out the queen. Anything less just aggravates the drones and leads to more splinter cells and satellite nests. Currently my top contender, my bug-Rambo if you will, is this guy. His web site alone makes me want to hire him. I'll keep you posted with detailed combat diagrams and body count totals.

Bonus: Democracy: a free and open source internet TV platform.

Also, Urban Gymnastics. Amazing video. This would be a sweet addition to the Summer Olympics.

And, a Flickr set from Space Patrol (1966), the first German science fiction television series.

February 16, 2006

Wolves, Dogs, Cats, & Bats
"I loathe people who keep dogs. They are cowards who haven't got the guts to bite people themselves." - Author Unknown

An interesting tidbit from the 'Police Blotter' of the Southwest Community Connection (our neighborly news rag):

Jan 14. 9:30 a.m.: A caller reported seeing a large wolf in Gabriel Park, eating a cat. Police arrived within a few minutes but the animal had already left. Park employees said that they have seen no wolves in Gabriel Park.

Now, if you replace wolf with dog and substitute cat for squirrel, then the story is quite believable. Gabriel Park has a large off-leash area and is a haven for dogs and the humans they own. In the words of the legendary Ted Nugget, 'It's a free for all'. From my epic Wimbledon-type tennis matches last week in Gabriel Park, I observed this chaos first hand. Basically, it seems, every dog owner believes that their canine is: a) gods gift to its breed, b) a blue ribbon winner for obedience and discipline and lastly, c) not really an animal at all but rather a being that can be reasoned with and can understand the logic of the english language perfectly. It is this arrogance that seems to be the cause of most of the chaos at the dog park. Having the fenced in tennis courts so close to the dog park doesn't help matters either. You can tell the truly smart dogs from the dumber ones by counting how many times they run at full sprint into the chain link fence attempting to retrieve an arrant tennis ball.

Also, and I don't mean to bash on dogs and their owners...but...what's the deal with dog owners bringing their dog(s) to the pet store? I mean I know you can, and the pet stores encourage it, but why? It seems like a huge production. And I don't appreciate having to defend myself with five pound buckets of Kitty Litter every time another dog decides to charge down aisle six. I don't know, maybe I give off some kind of dog pheromone but I'm getting sick and tired of hearing the phrase, "Sorry, I don't know what's gotten into him, he usually doesn't act like this". I usually hear this statement when I have my back pressed up against the fish aquariums and I'm trying to make the dog go away by shaking a cat dancer in its face.

In other news...the amount of minutes I've spent watching the Olympics so far equals exactly zero. And it's these smarmy human interest stories like, Dawson goes from abandoned baby to Olympic hero that will continue to keep that number very low.

Also, when the entire American Armed Forces fails to find and bring to justice Osama Bin Laden, who can we turn to? Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Batman. Now I'm a huge fan of Frank Miller's Batman series, but if some folks are troubled by some lame ill-conceived Dutch cartoons, I'm guessing they ain't going to take too kindly when this whole Batman thing drops. Do you suppose they will try and burn the Bat-signal?

February 15, 2006

Bobentine
I hope everyone had a swell Valentines Day. I couldn't think of a better way to spend the day then to be serenaded by Bob Mould at the Doug Fir. Playing songs from his entire catalog, the misses and I were deeply moved. That man knows how to write songs. He played the final half dozen songs (a mix of Husker tracks and two tracks off the last record) on electric guitar, making the hearts of everyone in attendance go pitter patter. He also played a few new unreleased songs that were crushing. One of the songs was decidedly a 'break up' song and had Bob commenting after the song. "Hide the Knives". I'm guessing someone forgot to give Bob a valentine.

I had one of those foot-in-mouth moments as soon as we walked downstairs into the Doug Fir. As we walked off the final step, there is Mr. Mould standing by himself. He looks at me. I'm about two feet away from him. Here's my chance to say something to him, to thank him for all the joy he has brought me over a lifetime of music listening. Fuck. I totally punted. I opened my mouth but couldn't manage one word. Fiddlesticks and Balderdash. I was totally unprepared.

Also, am I the only one who thinks this dog Rufus, who one Best in Show, just doesn't look quite right. He looks like he's got a football for a head.

February 13, 2006

Beach Hazards with Moxie
I'm hesitant to start any work this morning. I spent the better part of last night organizing and straightening up my office. The shredder got a real workout. Now I'm enjoying the clean look of my desk too much to sully it with the detritus that work brings about.

The misses and I got out to the beach this Saturday. It was gorgeous day for it, no wind and plenty of sun. Watched a bunch of people surfing - or rather - watched a lot of people gear up, play with their boards, talk surf talk and paddle around a bit in the water but there wasn't any real good surfing. I clocked the longest run at about three and a half seconds. The misses missed most of the surf runs as she was too distracted by some girl's ass crack that was hanging out of her ill-fitting jeans. All that nature and surf action but the ass crack fashion faux-paus was like an eyeball tractor beam and you couldn't look away from.

Along the beach there's plenty of Tsunami warning signage posted, which got the misses thinking about all kinds of scenarios and emergency getaways. She has a flair for the dramatic when it comes to these hypothetical Jerry Bruckheimer apocalyptic scenarios. It runs in her family. She once told her father we were heading to the coast and he pleaded that when we park our car we park it so the trunk faces the ocean. That way we would be able to make the quickest getaway. Survival of the paranoid.

Turns out that a trip to the beach lasts exactly two Ricky Gervais podcasts. Which means we were able to get through the last four episodes and now we're all caught up.

Yesterday, the Good Doctor and I set out to finally solve the mystery of how to digitize my vinyl collection. Of course this product would help, but I don't have fifteen large to throw at the problem right now. The solution we are experimenting with now involves the Griffin iMic and the software Final Vinyl. This set up allows us to run the turntable through a pre-amp, with the pre-amp output feeding into the iMic. So far so good. We are starting with LP's that currently can't be found on CD. First up is Jeremy Steig's Legwork which features the blowin' track Howling for Judy (the opening flute riff was sampled by the Beasties for Sure Shot).

February 10, 2006

Congratulations are NOT in Order
I can think of a number of accomplishments that people should be congratulated for: a job promotion, the birth of a child, a graduation, winning a Skee Ball tournament at the local Chuck E Cheese, Bill Murray hitting an eagle on 18 yesterday at the Pebble Beach Pro-Am. Those are all major life achievements that deserve applause and praise. And yet, last night after purchasing a very ordinary kitchen knife from Williams-Sonoma, the retail lady closed the transaction by handing me my bagged good while offering "Congratulations".

I was stunned folks. I half turned my head and stole an upward glance at the ceiling half expecting a cascade of balloons to be dropping. Had I won a prize, a shopping spree perhaps? Was I the one millionth customer? God, I've never won anything before. I returned my gaze to the sales lady who continued to stare at me with a frozen smile. "Um, congratulations for what?", I asked.

"Ah, for the knife", she replied quickly. (Awkward silence, pause, uncomfortable awkward silence).

"I see, yes, well thank you...I suppose." I said as I retreated slowly on my heals.

Perhaps buying a home or a yacht or say you bought a whole island, something with large coconut trees on it...yeah, now that's something that might deserve a high five and a congratulatory remark. But a knife? Congratulations on the purchase of your knife?!? No! That just doesn't work. "Thank you for making a purchase at our store." That works. I'm hoping that this was a one time fluke and not the company policy. It's probably safe to say the sales lady was a bit daunted by my winning smile and stylish taste in cutlery. I suppose after I left she slapped her forward and cursed herself under her breath, "Jill. You. Are. An. Idiot!" Yup, I'm sure that's how it went down.

Bonus: The Occasional Diary Entries of German Director Werner Herzog

February 08, 2006

Must Have Spring Fashions
I'm kinda feeling this Keith Jarrett inspired wig on Amazon. Unfortunately they're all sold out for now. I had no idea Amazon sold such treasures.

I submit these two, for creepiest product images on Amazon. But really, Costume Accessory - Hairy Chest will make you question everything you think is right and decent in the world.

February 07, 2006

What Is That Big Burning Globe In The Sky?
Portland has me to thank, and only me to thank, for the sunshine we are experiencing these days. In 9th grade drama class, I learned the yogi art of morning sun salutations, which I have been practicing for weeks now. Finally, the solar star has felt my energies and delivered upon us its warm yellow polish. Yesterday, I took my lunch outside and soaked up the radiance while I threw bits of english muffins to the Blue Jays. We are supposed to have several days of this weather and I'm looking forward to a little tennis this afternoon to celebrate.

Friday, the misses and I went to the Crystal Ballroom to see the Jeff Tweedy Solo Project. The place was massively sold out and was a completely worthless venue for Tweedy. His quite folk stylings deserve a much more intimate setting and although he probably made good money by selling that place out, he was in a terrible mood due to the fact that the decibel levels of the crowd chatter eclipsed his quiet strumming heartbreak. He stopped the show a few times to lambast the crowd for drinking and being much too social. AND, at one point, as I was trying to nudge my way through the tightly packed crowd I accidently nudged some girl, who acted as if I had punched her square in the solar plexus. Of course, her Andre the Giant boyfriend went ballistic on me and there was much pushing and shoving. Leave it to a Folk concert for someone to go all aggro on me. I'm sticking to the Metal and Hardcore shows, where the crowds are way more polite.

Saturday, the Good Doctor and I went and saw the Albert Ayler documentary, "My Name is Alber Ayler". The film was part of the NW Film Center's Reel Music Festival. They had some great films in the series. Sadly the Ayler doc was the only one I got down to see. Next year I'm going to all of them. The Ayler documentary had some mind blowing archival footage including Albert playing at John Coltrane's funeral.

Superbowl Sunday was a blur of cheese, sour cream, good friends, guacamole, Ghost Recon, spinach dip, singing pepsi cans, Halo, and no-good-referees who ruined the actual game.

Last night I watched the original Nordic flavored film, Insomnia. It was a thousand times better than the American version. It was a good companion to this Icelandic mystery I'm reading called Jar City by Arnaldur Indridason. Currently, my favorite literature genre is Nordic Noir. If only Raymond Chandler had lived in Sweden...

Also, Afrojet quietly turned four years old this weekend. Next year? Kindergarden!

February 03, 2006

Slice & Dice
Finally, normalcy has returned to The Ranch. The car is back from the shop looking and (more importantly) smelling like its old self. And I got a hair cut.

When first I crashed the new German car, I made the offhand comment that the body shop was going to have to order parts from Germany. Regrettably, that prophecy turned out to be true. Not only that, but I am told the 2006 model was redesigned and built new from the ground up. Although this is the kind of talk that pushes all the right buttons when you're buying the car, it's really not what you want to hear when it comes to fixing your 'unique' car. No parts can be cannibalized from older models, which means Dolph and Otto back at the VW plant in Wolfsburg need to make brand new ones for you (you did a great job guys - thanks!).

Now, about my hair...(aren't blogs great?). It had been about three months since my last follicle chop and I was beginning to be mistaken for an actual Portlander with a proper mop of 'Portland Hair'. But I'm just not comfortable in that skin yet, so I had to trim down.

My barber was visibly distressed about cutting my hair. She couldn't understand why someone would want to cut such a beautiful unkept mop. After her first go round with the scissors, I had to demand, "no, shorter!". To agitate matters worse, all four of the hair choppers on duty seemed to actively hate one another. I found out shortly that this was due to them all having very different tastes in music, which resulted in a lot of cattiness surrounding whatever current CD was being broadcasted in the joint. My barber listens to two kinds of music: the Iggy Pop kind and the Danzig kind. When not extolling the virtues of these musical men, she spent most of her time colorfully explaining what the other hair choppers listened to and why those selections made them incredibly horrible people. She even confessed to both stealing and breaking other people's CD's! Cinderella is her least favorite band of all time. Thankfully she did not ask what I listen to, as I have no idea how I would have answered that question, what with all those razors and scissors at her disposal. My barber has an affinity for the phrase 'Slice and Dice', as in, "If she puts on that Cinderella CD...boy, we are going to have to slice and dice". If you heard that phrase enough times while strapped to the barber chair you too would acquiesce and agree with all earnestness that, "Yes, Danzig's 'Mother' is, without question, the best song ever written".

February 01, 2006

Rolling On Your Weak Production
With my last post about the Portland Auto Show, I forgot to throw up this image of the misses getting mobbed by the Car Paparazzi. Seems to happen wherever she goes.

Other Randomness:

The Skeltons are currently in the market for a swank credenza. If you got a good lead on one, let us know. Here is our dream credenza.

FUFI FUFI - "a converted ice cream truck which will be driving around selling art from local and internationally known artists, during the four day Art Basel Miami Beach event in December." I like this idea. They should have one here for First Thursdays. It's like the old Jamaican DJ's bringing their music on the road through Sound Systems. They also have a great slogan written on the front of the truck: "Rolling On Your Weak Production"

The Hurricane Poster Project - A collaborative effort of the design community to raise money for the victims of Hurricane Katrina (via Design Observer).

An interesting Portland Blog, Portland Peace, pointed me to this Tryon Farm Commune web site, where you can see pictures of their little Hobbit like homes.

A really good roundup of Open Source Software for Mac OS X.

One of my cats has the most awful morning breath today.

Dr. Seuss Stencils.

Cool retro decor museum at Plan 59. Featuring Wood is so good to live with.