afrojet

Exercise the Mind by Destroying the Liver
I’m trying to gear up for tonight’s heated intellectual debate. Mental push-ups, people. Tonight’s intense political discourse will no doubt be historical, the barbs and jabs so electric, one might – if one held their head just so – see a slight pale glow hovering over Miami. With all the pre-fight pabulum and polemics the pundits will be pounding into our plump potatoes, and with John Stewart rounding things up after the fight, it’s bound to be a long night. A case of beer plus if I had to estimate.

I thought I’d do my public service by limbering up your minds with a little trivia this morning, just to get the grey-matter messaged and ready for tonight’s epic battle.

Here are your questions:

1. Name four U.S. states that have a name and a capital that share the same first letter ( for example: Minnesota/Minneapolis would be wrong! ).
2. What is the new proof of Jack Daniels Whiskey, that the company neglected to tell its customers it had lowered it to?
3. How do I vote?
4. What song by what artist was the first to use the “izz” infix, thus spawning a linguistic revolution and giving birth to a real boss trend? Bonus points if you can quote the lyric from memory.
5. What is the correct definition of “Tribal Sovereignty“?

Meet the Wiggles
Back from the Germanic olde stylings of bountiful Milwaukee. Exhausting. The little kids that plied for my attention all weekend wore me right the hell out. So many wandering and fragmentary innings of baseball played. Huge castles and kingdoms were erected and then surreptitiously connected by loose wooden railway systems. The older kid, thankfully the only one of the two that can actually walk and talk, proved to be a formidable task master. He worked us at a brutal clip – gave the finger to our Union, and worked us right through our lunch breaks. Mostly, the kid was really into gearing up for a specific activity then he was in actually doing the activity. Baseball demanded the right and proper way to wear a batting glove, to don a helmet, to tap the base with the end of ones bat. Pitchers were not allowed to pitch unless they went through the entire wind-up process. I don’t know where this three year old learned to micro-manage like that. The kid is already extremely detailed oriented. His dad hasn’t been able to find him a pint sized catchers mask yet, so the kid employes a nifty trick. He wears two gloves. One he uses as a standard catchers mitt and the other he uses as a face protector. Here is a visual aid. The best part of this formula is that once the ball is hit, and before he runs after it, he slides the glove off his face and onto the top of his mellon – just like a pro catcher would do in a foul tip situation. Witnessing this maneuver is so hilarious that most of the time I would get tagged out because I was paralyzed with laughter.

There isn’t much else to do when locked away in a subdivision twenty minutes outside of Milwaukee, so when not engaged in toys, there was ample cartoon gazing. And to that I’d just like to say Fuck the Wiggles! That show is straight up dumb diddly dumb dumb dumb. People want to know what happened to the American education system? It got infiltrated by a wiggely fab five from down-under and they made our kids dumber than a box of rocks. Listen up parents, don’t do this to your kid.

The Wiggles made me need alcohol in a big big way. I escaped the subdivision Saturday and drove into Milwaukee proper. I found my good friend Brian and immediately set out on a very fine pub crawl that included pool, pabst, and tator-tot po’ boys. Milwaukee is my kinda town; down-to-earth and beer friendly. And since they haven’t passed any kind of arcane smoking ban up there, I’ll have to put it on my list of ‘places to move to’ come next April when Minneapolis becomes uninhabitably smoke-free.

Toys R’ Melancholic
What the hell happened to Toys R’ Us? What was once the flagship, the mecca of my childhood toy browsing has become some kind of enfeebled flop house of gummed up mockery. Seriously, I’ve been to third-world toy stores that were far more uplifting and chipper than the gloomy, forgotten shelves of yesterdays warehouse play-land. The misses says that everyone buys their toys at Target and Wallmart now. Nobody really shops at big-box toy exclusive retail shops anymore. I’m sure she’s right, and it makes total sense. So for the love of god, somebody please put ol’ Toys R’ Us out of its misery.

We went there last night to procure our gift for the weekend road trip, purely on my insistence mind you. I didn’t want to slum it in the toy section of Target when I could go to the castle of toys. About two minutes after walking into the store, I was struck by the fact that there were no kids anywhere. None. The demographic sampling of a Toys R’ Us on a Thursday evening is white, male, 27-35 years olds. Although I am the bright yellow bulls-eye of that demo, I found it to be entirely creepy. Walking into the Hot Wheels section of a Toys R’ Us is like walking into a porno shop. There are lots of guys holding products in there hands while silently looking shifty eyed at one another. No wonder there are no kids here. The place is black and threatening.

But there were still toys there and after I got past the fact that I shall never come here again, I started in on the toys. The most distressing toy I found was the Barbie Cash Register, which has buttons that when pressed say things like “Cash or Credit?..Credit…OK…please swipe your card”. Also of interest were a new line of Hot Wheels cars that were branded with the ghetto vernacular “Whips”. I actually bought one of these. You can get cars that are West Coast Customs cars (as seen on MTV’s Pimp My Ride). Finally, and on a fitting note, I found the dj scribble Dzak scratchaholic toy (pictured above) in the green tag clearance bin. It’s made by DSI toys who had to file for Chapter 7. I was able to pick him up (his name is Dzak) for 75 cents! Dzak plays a whole batch of beats and depending on which way you twist his head he’ll makes scratching noises, he beat-boxs, and says things like “Floss it” and “Make it Hot”.

The City of Milwaukee is America’s Next Top Model
In a sudden perfect storm of events, family itineraries, and rare opportunities, the misses and I will be road tripping it out to Milwaukee Wisconsin. We will be staying with Kelly’s cousins who have recently made a new baby. They also have a slightly older kid, who, it is rumored, is into music. Obviously we will have to arrive barring gifts, it’s just something you have to do these days. Thusly, we are hoping that the Hot Wheels X’Treme Riffs Electic Guitar will be accepted with great joy. I’m not really sure if this toy is age appropriate but I sure as hell want to buy it tonight. I wanna hammer that axe for the entire six hours we will be in the car.

I’ve never been to Milwaukee. I’m very excited to see the much talked about Fuel Cafe and the Palamino.

Did you know this about Milwaukee:
“While Theodore Roosevelt was campaigning in Milwaukee in 1912, a would-be assassin fired a bullet into the right side of his chest. Much of the force of the slug was absorbed by the President’s eyeglasses case and by the 50 page speech he was carrying double-folded in his breast pocket. Nevertheless, the bullet lodged itself just short of his lung, and, dripping in blood, Roosevelt pulled himself up to the podium. He asked the crowd to please “…be very quiet and excuse me from making a long speech. I’ll do the best I can, but there’s a bullet in my body… I have a message to deliver, and I will deliver it as long as there is life in my body.” He spoke for 90 minutes, but was unable to refer to his text due to the gaping hole which the bullet had torn through it.”

For those of you who will be in town, Massively and Completely Distracted has a nice piece about a cool political poster show opening this weekend at the Frank Stone Gallery.

Also for your enjoyment:
The movie, How to BBQ a Man by Slowtron.
A creepy site put out by Diesel called Stay Young Forever.

Incredible Cereal Review
Another trip to Cub Foods means another cereal purchased and devoured – one more chapter in my never ending quest for the perfect movie/cereal cross promotion. This weeks candidate is the cereal for the movie The Incredibles. The Incredibles cereal is bold and creative. Its anthropomorphic edible bits enjoy the look of hollywood. The base is a magnificent golden puffy star that’s been ornamented with a light dusting of red ambiguous “berry”. I taste raspberries, a faint hint of strawberries, and am left with a subdued and gentle blueberry aftertaste. The cereal is very eye pleasing. So completely original and forward-thinking in design is the Incredibles that if contained in a glass jar, its playfulness will surely have your house guests oohing and aahing with puppy love over your air-tight display. Yet once you taste the cereal you are flooded with a heavy nostalgia for Captain Crunch Crunch Berries. The flavors have a lot in common. Overall, I give the cereal a solid eight stars. The flavor is an old favorite but wrapped up in a striking new package.

Also today.

Three Notes, a Downhill Battle audio protest on the new yet arcane sampling law ruling. Some of the mp3 entries are phenomenal.

Two new posts on McSweeney’s: Pirate Riddles for Sophisticates and another cereal related inquiry entitled David Brooks Also Eats Cereal but probably nothing as good as The Incredibles.
Candy warpers that could possibly be engaged in non candy-like behavior.
The latest and biggest SUV.
The 2004 Tom Selleck Mustache Competition held each year in Raykjavik.
Finally, a prime gallery of well designed Anti-war posters.

The Pen Unlocks Us All
Not long ago I lived in an apartment along a busy street in Saint Paul. The domicile was a solid brick building that had fallen into disrepair as the owner/landlord didn’t do much in the upkeep department. Nowhere was this more apparent when it came to the locks that held the doors shut and the random, late night Saint Paul wanderers and up-to-no-gooders out. I became aware of just how bad the locks were one night when I absentmindedly locked myself out of the main door to the building. Drawing on a whole host of spy movie fantasies and Magnum P.I. pedagogy, I decided to try picking the lock myself. I dug through my bag and came up with a black Bic pen that had a straight metal clip on the cap. I bent and pulled the clip off the pen, inserted it into the lock and within seconds, I was bouncing up the stairs to my second floor flat. At first, I thought about putting an immediate call into my landlord and berating him with the highlights of my story. But then I realized that, probably sooner rather than later, I would again lock myself out of my apartment and it would be nice to be able to have a Bic pen back-up plan. In my tenure at the apartment, I probably ended up employing this technology at least half a dozen times.

And so I was only slightly shocked after reading a forwarded article in the Times, from a Vancouverite who has recently had his BMX snatched from the peace loving streets of B.C, that told about the Bic pen’s power over the expensive and seemingly bulletproof Kryptonite lock. Beware. It turns out that Kryptonite owners the world over are now helpless against the stealthy ease with which their bicycles can be so easily unburdened from the encumberment of their protector. My advice? Invest heavily in the Bic corporation.

Talkin’ Baseball
Smack Daddy! Even after being beamed his first time up at bat Barry Bonds cranked out a home run last night to join one of the most exclusive clubs in baseball – The 700 club. His cute little daughter looks very happy for him.

The above ‘Barry Bonds tribute font’ is called Ballpark Script.

The Attack of the Stealth Melodica
This morning got off to great start. I was going through The Ramones catalog, forming my own tribute to Johnny Ramone, when one of the cats wandered into my office. She paused, listened to a few bars of a song, and then promptly barfed a stream of yellowish gruel on the dark wood floor. Could there be a more fitting punk rawk tribute to The Ramones? No, there could not.

In these later days of summer, the early morning air is crisp and cool, the kind of weather that makes pulling the covers back and starting the day harder than activating your nunchucks while recovering from a slight concussion. The misses has an even harder time with this than I. Things got drastic and twisted this week, when I began employing the melodica and my free-jazz sensibilities as a demonic military-style bugle call. It gets the job done but puts the receiver in an unquestioning unpleasant morning mood. Well, revenge is a meal served best cold. Last night, after the misses had retired to bed with a sinus cold, I settled down on the couch with a glass of duty-free rum acquired in Canada (we are all out of absinthe). I was relaxed, the lights were low. I was well into getting my Denzel W. power on, when right behind my left ear I was shot with a shotgun blast of brutal melodica revenge. I fucking jumped six feet off the couch and reached for my heart which I thought for sure was a goner.

Oh the cruelty. Sneaking on tip toes, the misses had put an end to the melodica wars even before they really had a chance to begin. Even my latest survivalist readings did not prepare me for the enemy within my own home. Lessons learned.

Friday’s musical recommendations include The Channels new EP entitled Open (read the Pitchfork review). Like a fine wine, J Robbins‘ musical output continues to get better and better with age. Also, in that same ‘better with age’ category, comes Walter’s (ex Rival Schools, Quicksand) new release Run to be Born from his latest band Walking Concert. I am enjoying both of these very much.

This weekend’s top goal is the purchase of new slippers and watching Barry Bonds hit his 700th home run.

Fashion Report: Arsenal of Freedom
Hey kids, did you know that this years hottest new accessory for fall isn’t your beloved 70’s style poncho. It’s not even that bright colored counterfeit Hermes bag you bought for thirteen bucks in Chinatown. So five minutes ago people. No, as of this week, with a special fashion shout out to President Bush, the NRA and the asleep-at-the-wheel democratic party, this season’s fall must-have is one of the 19 military-style assault weapons now available on the streets of good old USA.

With the bitter sweet sunset of the 1994 Feinstein law, we can all start matching our sock to our gun stocks. “Does this AK-47 come in ‘Autumn Buttercup’?”

I started looking around online yesterday to find out exactly what guns I can now own and use to complement my fall look, which, for those who want to know, will follow a strict survivalist dress code. Don’t forget September is ‘National Preparedness Month’. No, seriously, it is. Unfortunately, I have yet to run across a site that actually breaks down what guns are available today that weren’t available last week. If you know, please email me.

[ Side note: ] In the Halloween isle at Wallgreens yesterday, I noticed that the big Hallows Eve costume for little kids this year is called ‘Soldier’. Prepare to have your candy bowls invaded come October 31st.

Back to guns. I checked out my local Minnesota dealer Vulcan Armament, whose slogan is the bitchin’ ‘Arsenal of Freedom’, and although I’m impressed with the smallness and portability of their V10 series (it would look good with my iPod), I’m pretty sure the V10 was available last week. And really, the biggest fashion mistake you can make is to wear a gun today that you could have worn last week. The search continues.

I will admit that I got a little carried away this morning, and spent way too much time surfing the dark parts of survivalist websites/message boards. But in the fashion world you have to keep a close eye on the streets. Or in this case, the road-blocked dirt roads that lead to fortified compounds in the foothills of Montana. I would like to share some of the sweet sites I did come upon. I’m sure you will find them them helpful.

Gunstock – the woodstock of gunshows.
Drought Watch – keep track of all the latest drought news.
Roadblock Registry – know your blockages and alternative evac routes.
Noradsanta – Norad (remember the movie War Games?) has a special site for kids where they track Santa Clause using the same technologies they use to find the Bin Ladens of the world…tax money well spent!

Save Betamax
That’s right. You heard me. Get on the horn today and call up your Senator. Shout loudly about how important betamax was to your early childhood development. Tell them about how you watched Star Wars 54 times before the ribbon snapped. And then tell them that you are concerned about the ‘Induce Act’, concerned and take seriously copyright protections issues, and believe consumers should be able to make personal copies of their music and video without bringing harm to the technologies that allow for those choices.

Today is the action day over at Save Betamax, organized by Downhill Battle. Go over there and read more about the cause and the content. Also, a good article in Wired. If you need any more convincing then perhaps the olde tyme wisdom of Mr. Rogers will steer your ship towards a clear harbor:

“I have always felt that with the advent of all of this new technology that allows people to tape the ‘Neighborhood’ off-the-air, and I’m speaking for the ‘Neighborhood’ because that’s what I produce, that they then become much more active in the programming of their family’s television life. Very frankly, I am opposed to people being programmed by others. My whole approach in broadcasting has always been ‘You are an important person just the way you are. You can make healthy decisions.’ Maybe I’m going on too long, but I just feel that anything that allows a person to be more active in the control of his or her life, in a healthy way, is important.”