The Sound of Afrojet

Packers beat Vikings. All is good and right in the world. Brian K sends me the best link I’ve heard in months. Want to know what afrojet sounds like? It’s very similar to the beginning of a Bjork album. Listen now. For a full sonic invasion, open the link in multiple tabs.

suess

A Good Day For Up
For some reason The Pixies show last night, has me thinking about Dr. Seuss today. Not really sure what the connection there is but I’ll go with it because it led me to a great article by John Fea on Thoughts on a Seussentenial. A reflection of the American moral messages that are taught in Dr. Suess’ body of work.

“Yet even as he tried to avoid writing morality tales, much of Geisel’s work reflects his deep and lifelong commitment to liberal individualism. Seuss’s books, through their celebration of opportunity, cosmopolitanism, and human rights, read like childhood primers on the American values. But at the same time, they remind us that the ideals of freedom, self-interest, and liberty have always existed in tension with the pursuit of a common life and the personal sacrifices that such a life requires. Dr. Seuss remains a window into the deepest convictions and paradoxes of American culture.”

Lot’s more Seuss.

Festivals
I’m currently suffering from a serious case of leaf bag envy. It ain’t listed in the DSM-IV as a psychological disorder, so I’m guessing it’s just a seasonal thing – but still. I thought I was big shit cause I had like nine, 45 gallon bags bursting with leaves that I had placed on the curb for pick up. But a quick survey of the neighborhood showed that my leaf bag pile was very rookie next to some folks who are stacking twenty bags plus. Man, fuck those people. I think they pad their bags or simply don’t do enough compression while packing their bags.

Anyhow, finally got to the Get Real Documentary Film Festival last night for the showing of Tarnation. It’s a good but tough movie to watch, made only slightly less depressing because the director/protagonist, Jonathan Caouette was there for a Q&A after the film. Although he made the movie using Apple’s iMovie, he said that he hadn’t gotten even so much as a nod from Apple. He was hoping for at least a free iPod. Natch.

I also saw the film Festival Express a couple nights ago. The movie furthered my appreciation for just how freaking punk rock Janis Joplin was and just how boring and lame the Grateful Dead are. The scenes of people Jamming on the train are sweet.

While on the subject of music, a little bird has told me that First Avenue may soon become a corporate House of Blues. I for one, hope this is a vicious and nasty rumor. For those still depressed tho, Jim Walsh has a message of hope.

Going to the Pixies tonight at Roy Wilkins Auditorium! I haven’t seen a concert there since Jane’s Addiction way way back in the day.

More music? A cool article by Norman Weinberger in the latest Scientific American about Music and the Brain:

“Why is music–universally beloved and uniquely powerful in its ability to wring emotions–so pervasive and important to us? Could its emergence have enhanced human survival somehow, such as by aiding courtship, as Geoffrey F. Miller of the University of New Mexico has proposed? Or did it originally help us by promoting social cohesion in groups that had grown too large for grooming, as suggested by Robin M. Dunbar of the University of Liverpool? On the other hand, to use the words of Harvard University’s Steven Pinker, is music just “auditory cheesecake”–a happy accident of evolution that happens to tickle the brain’s fancy?”

sam brown

Framing Solutions
Problem: I like art. I like to purchase art. I like to purchase prints. Prints are probably my favorite. Most of the prints I buy are from local artists. Most of the prints I buy come unframed. Most of the prints I buy are of odd (original) dimensions that don’t fit into off-the-shelf frames that one might buy at say a Target. In all cases the cost of a custom framing job is two to three hundred percent more than what I actually paid for the print. Thus, I have many prints that sit dormant waiting for me to shell out the big money so they can be displayed proper. A good example is the above print by old high school chum, Minneapolis artist, Sam Brown. Not Sam Brown of exploding dog fame but a different Sam Brown. I purchased two prints of his at a recent exhibition and was of course excited to put them up. However, the price of a custom frame made me think twice.

Solution (and the misses gets all the credit for this one): American Frame Corporation. Their online framing solution is almost perfect. Choose from hundreds of frame styles and materials, select your dimensions, mounting, etc., place your order and within a week your prints are hanging in affordable, professional style. The catch is that they use plexiglass instead of real glass, but if you order the non-glare variety of plexiglass, you can barely tell the difference. The above print was framed in cherry wood and cost a reasonable $50. The frame was delivered pre-built, so I just plopped in the print and the job was complete. This service gets the highest ratings from me. Four afros. Four jets.

jesusland

Wallmart and God

I awoke to a bitter and hellish double whammy on November 3rd. It left me wandering around the house all day yesterday. Boxer shorts and slippers. As far as I got in dressing myself. I walked for miles – wearing out the same ten foot stretch of carpet, scratching my head and eating leftover Halloween candy.

To bring this thing down to the personal, I was hard-hearted and bloodthirsty thinking about the fact that not only was I staring down the barrel of four more fucking years of the brutish George Bush death clown car. But It’s possible that I’ll have to do this without First Avenue as my Temple and Church. The bad news is unrelenting! Peter Scholtes on the closing of First Avenue. To put this tragedy in full perspective for those of you who live in the Red states, this double whammy would be similar to George Bush losing the presidency and then having your local Wall Mart burn to the ground. I know. Chilling isn’t it? Well that’s just what’s happened here in my back yard.

Perhaps this double tragedy is a sign from a higher power that it’s time to join the team of the dumb. Perhaps today I will sell all my CD’s, books, and DVDs, and replace them with the holy trinity of, The Passion of the Christ DVD, The Purpose Driven Life: What on Earth Am I Here For and, John Tesh: Worship at Red Rocks. Let these items be your road map for the next four years and beyond.

Jesusistan image methinks originated here.

Halloween Wrap Up
Good Halloween holiday weekend. It had been awhile since the last time I was kicked out of a hotel party by the Minneapolis police. It’s good to know that it still feels pretty good. I ditched the Ketchup costume at the last minute in favor of an evil golf outfit. It was an all white Tom Wolfe affair with brilliant touches of Tom Watson circa 1982 when he won the U.S. Open. The misses sewed me a great tam to complete the outfit. I got these off white patent leather Brunswick shoes at the Salvation Army for a dollar. They were two sizes too small but I made the sacrifice to pull the whole costume together. My toes are still sore today.

At the halloween party I attended, the Oopma Loompa Nation (OLN) was well represented. It was definitely the go to costume for many. My favorite costume of the night was a guy who went as the one-arm drummer of Def Leppard. A simple costume that consisted of wearing a Def Leppard Paranoid t-shirt with one arm tucked in the shirt. I think he even pinned the sleve. He had a great wig and carried a drumstick in his good hand. Classic.

Afrojet Workout Plan

Currently: sore, broken, damaged, exhausted, abused.

The sedentary nature of computer jobs and the upcoming long winter months have prompted the misses and I to join our local health club. It could turn out to be our biggest mistake.

Tuesday night was the first trip to the gym. It was to be our introduction (or indoctrination). We had appointments with separate trainers with the intent of getting a light orientation and hopefully a little guidance on achieving our ‘fitness goals’. Admittedly, I had set the bar pretty low. My fitness goals were: 1) rock various and colorful adidas pant/shoe combinations, 2) rock the new iPod ‘gym’ mix I had created while plundering the old speed metal archives (D.R.I., Slayer, Motorhead) and, 3) drink lots of Gatorade whilst maneuvering free weights and nautilus dojiggery. A simple plan really – something to get the heart rate going a bit. My personal trainer for the night, who I must refer to as ‘Business’ had an altogether different idea and approach. If my fitness goal for myself was something just above Homer Simpson status, Business’ goal was to build me into a Greek war hero a la Homer’s The Iliad. In one fucking night no less.

Business is the kind of guy who is either ‘on’ or fucking ‘off’. No granularity of purpose. I said I hadn’t worked out in at least ten years and was looking for a light workout to get the heart rate up a bit. But as many times as I reiterated this fact all he heard was “I want to be huge bitch. I want to run triathlons by April! I want you to transform me into Atlas. Spare my body nothing.”

And so it was…boot camp. Business had me running, squatting, lunging, throwing heavy balls, squatting while throwing heavy balls. There was heavy ball jumping, heavy ball oblique twisting, more running, jump-squatting, more heavy ball throwing, lower back squatting, running (now with bigger strides), more fucking heavy ball bending. All the while pleading, like the pussy that I am, that this was not the routine that I was really thinking I would be carrying forward in the coming months. All the while trying to straighten out in my head why I was paying Business to beat the holy crap out of me. And the poor iPod, all those good songs, tucked away – abandoned in my gym bag. I was pissed.

Finally the last straw. I’m completely out of breath. The smoking and boozing that my body enjoys now revolting and rising in protest. “What the fuck are you doing?” my lungs scream. I’m dizzy and I feel faint and I think I’m going to blow chunks at any minute. Business has brought out some kind of wicked big disc diaphragm that he wants me to balance on while doing arm curls. Fuck this. Through my dizziness it might as well have been an Iron Maiden. My legs are warm putty. I can’t even stand a second on the damn diaphragm. I’m going to hurl. I call time-out, tell Business ‘game over’, thanks for playing – we’re done here. Go away.

The misses fairs a little better as her trainer seems to actually listen a bit to her needs and goals. I’m collapsed in a puddle of my own sauces. I need a cigarette.

A day has passed and I can still barely move. My groining seems to have faired the worst. I can’t squat to sit down. I merely fall down. But now that the Business has been relieved of his trainer duty I will make it back into the gym tonight and start my right and proper routine. The misses has another appointment with her trainer this evening. Me, I’m going to sit back on the exercise bike tonight (set on the the lowest setting) and watch the misses get worked.

Gourd

Season of the Gourd
I got a little carried away in the gourd department this weekend and ended up with more gourds then one household should have. What can one do with so many gourds?

JG got me a Heinz Ketchup t-shirt while on holiday in Pittsburgh. It’s just in time as I think it will inspire me to create an entire halloween costume that pays homage to my favorite condiment. This kangol hat will serve as the bottle top. And the adidas dazzle pant should complete the bottle outfit.

Saw two great booty shaking shows last week. Antibalas at First Avenue and the North Mississippi Allstars at the Cabooze. The NMA show was just crazy awesome. So much fun. In an age where little girls lip-synch music on SNL and Steven Tyler can’t even hold key while singing the National Anthem, it’s great to see live musicians who are in full control of what they are doing. Buy the NMA’s live record Hill Country Revue if only for the track Psychedelic Sex Machine (mp3), which features some intergalactic cosmic washboard playing. The washboard is going through a distortion peddle and a wah wah pedal.

R.I.P. John Peel. Thanks for all the great music.

Voter Stomping

The election is little more than a week away and already there are wild reports of voter fraud in almost every battleground state. Steve Perry in his article in the City Pages makes the case that the war on voter rights is going to be the real october surprise this election season. Yikes. Things could get ugly as you approach your polling station November 2nd. In order to help guide and train the electorate, I’ve but together a small reading list – titles that bare tactics everyone should know before entering their polling station. To wit:

Floor Fighting : Stompings, Maimings, And Other Things To Avoid When A Fight Goes To The Ground

Cheap Shots, Ambushes, And Other Lessons : A Down And Dirty Book On Streetfighting & Survival

Fists, Wits, And A Wicked Right : Surviving On The Wild Side Of The Street