Who needs drugs?

The comments on Fark make me laugh.
The comments on Yahoo Answers make me sad.
The comments on YouTube make me psychotic.

Through careful internet browsing, I can regulate my mood to exact degrees.

This is how my brain works

Whenever I see this:

I think of this:

That One Looks Like A Spoiler -OR- Out! Out! Damned Spot

I found out recently that psychiatrists who still employ the Rorschach blots as a diagnostic tool jealously guard them, so potential patients can't study them beforehand. If the test had any merit at all, I could understand that, but since it fails every criterion as to what constitutes a valid, scientifically sound, and legally admissable diagnostic tool, I don't feel too bad about posting all of them in my blog.

It was interesting, too, to read the "rules" that guide the scoring of the test. They're so broad, every administrator is pretty much free to interpret them how they wish. Some will score against you if you rotate the card; others will score against you if you don't. You might get a "bad grade" if you answer too quickly, or if you take too long to answer. Some psychiatrists will drop your score if you don't confine your answer to the ink marks (seeing an image in the negative space, for example), or if you see too many things. Some will mark your score down if you say "That's a (whatever)" instead of "That looks like a (whatever)", as if the patient really believes that a drip of ink on cardstock has transformed into the (whatever).

I actually think Rorschach was testing the psychiatrists' reactions rather than the patients'.

One fairly consistent reaction across the board, apparently, is that all of the psychiatrists will react negatively if you tell them you see "an inkblot." But really, isn't that the literal truth? Wouldn't that indicate that the patient has a solid grip on the real world, not given to hallucinations or manias?

I have to offer this P.S.A. in connection with this post: If you are ever in a position where your state of mind is to be determined by a Rorschach test (like whether you're mentally competent enough to stand trial, for instance), you are supposed to let them know you have seen the cards, and request an alternate diagnostic tool. Use your own judgement as to whether or not you think holding that information back will give you an advantage.

Here are the cards, and my interpretations.

Plate 1

Evil bunny grinning at me, or two chihuahuas gnawing on one of those cat clocks.

Plate 2

Two Chinese peasants in DEVO hats high-fiving one another.

Plate 3

Okay, this one requires some backstory: when I was little, my grandparents went on a trip to Africa. They picked up a pair of carved wooden staues of "typical" village women. This image looks like those statues putting a tuxedo together.

Plate 4

Roadkill. Specifically, a rabbit run over by a motorcycle. (And he had four of 'em!)

Plate 5

Moth/butterfly/alligators hiding behind bushes/Martian angel/Icarus

Plate 6

Dragonfly towing a raccon skin, or a diver hitting a dry pool.

Plate 7

Two "Thumbs Up!" made out of paper, or Siamese ants joined at the abdomen.

Plate 8

Two chameleons perched on baboons and tearing apart a brick of frozen shredded wheat.

Plate 9

Two deer, heads cocked in a "Oh no you din't" attitude, stand behind bushes while four plucked hens await on the other side.

Plate 10

Seafood platter with calamari, crab claws, salmon, fried clams, and scallops.

In the negative space, I see a woman wearing (top to bottom): a tall headdress, an amber necklace, a pink cape, a blue bra, yellow garters, and green hose.

So...what have we learned?

Just a nitpick, because I have the time

When shows portray characters manually blowing up balloons, which then proceed to float (the balloons, not the characters).

Driver's License to Kill

I'm now one up on Ted Kennedy, in that I've killed two living creatures with my car. The first was a frog that just chose the wrong moment to leave the creek. The other was a crow, which was unusual for a couple of reasons. Firstly, the crows in the mountains are very used to tourist traffic, and usually fly off long before you get to them. Secondly, they're always warning each other Cah! Cah!

A little of this, a little of that

Mrs. Cat’s cooking tip of the day: When you’re mixing up the base for your stir-fry, add a little peanut butter to it and let it melt before you toss in your veggies. This is particularly tasty if you’re a fan of Thai food and don’t want to take the time to mix up a separate batch of satay.

Today’s random reminiscing: spending a whole car trip stretched out on the shelf in the back window of my dad’s Plymouth, reading a book.

I saw bats flittering around yesterday, and today I heard the first cicada. Spring is finally here. I’m hoping that tomorrow a bat will catch the cicada.

I’ve been getting a few more freelance jobs, which is good, but I haven’t gotten anywhere near the prices I’ve wanted for doing them, which ain’t. I’m hardly in a position to refuse work, but it annoys me that people have such low expectations as to what it should cost to do these things. Would you edit a 35,000 word book for less than $300? (I did turn that one down.)

I wish I’d made this:

Psychopomp & Circumstance

I don't have a post to go with that title, but I really liked it, so there you go.

On the Zombie front, Mrs. Cat and I have decided that the reason they're always seeking brains is not because they're hungry, but because they're operating a tannery.

Bubbles in the Brain

IQ; UQ; We all Q!

So I’m feeling a little bummed today. Y’see, I’m reading this book called Outliers, and one section discusses innate genius. The example is a man who blew the top out of the standard IQ test – he was literally off of their charts – and had to be given another one developed specifically to measure IQs above the range of the standard test. He got every question right except this one: Teeth is to Hen as Nest is to…?

Now, I knew the answer as soon as I read the question, and that’s what brung me low. Apparently I possess the knowledge to be able to answer esoteric questions built on obscure idioms, and the skills to sort and apply them, but this doesn’t translate into people beating down my door to hire me. (I’m not claiming that I would do as well on the rest of the test, by the way – pride goeth and all that; this just happened to be a question I could answer.)

***

Famous Cats in History

Saw this blog post today:

The Cat who started the Civil War

After General Nathanial Greene’s death, a young Yale University graduate, Eli Whitney, came to Savannah to take a tutoring job. Whitney began working for Greene’s widow, Catharine, and it was at Mulberry Grove that Whitney invented the cotton gin, the machine that revolutionized the production of cotton.

In fact, Whitney met Mrs. Greene on a ship from Rhode Island to Georgia when he was moving to take the teaching job and she was going to remarry. They struck up a friendship, and when he discovered that the pay for the teaching job was half what he had been promised, she offered to let him live at Mulberry Plantation while he decided what to do next.

At Mulberry Grove, much of the evening conversation was about the difficult economic situation plantation owners faced. At that point in US history, slavery was a dying enterprise. Slaves were expensive to keep and there was little profitable work for them to do. The market for local crops, indigo and rice would not support large plantations, and though growing cotton was a possibility, it was too expensive separating the cotton seeds from the fiber to make the crop profitable.

A few days later, Whitney was in the plantation barnyard watching a cat try to catch a chicken through a wire fence. Each time the cat would reach through the fence for the chicken, all he would bring back was a paw-full of feathers. This lit the bulb in Whitney’s imagination and he realized that folks were trying to solve the wrong problem with cotton. The solution wasn’t separating the seeds from the cotton fiber; it was separating the fibers from the seeds. He devised a screen-wire basket in which a roller with small picks would pull the fibers through the screen, leaving the seeds on the other side. This became his Cotton Engine, and it was an immediate success throughout the cotton-growing regions of the south. This drove a huge demand for field labor in Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi and led to a great transfer of slaves from Virginia and the Carolinas, greatly upsetting slave families and leading to the upheaval that led to the Civil War some sixty years later.

Had Whitney not seen that cat, who knows what would have happened in American history? This is why a cat should be credited with starting the Civil War.

It was a cute post, but ignores the fact that slavery was not the underlying cause of the War of Northern Aggression.

***

From the Mailbag

(Whose robots would you rather have send you e-mail, Tyrell’s or Skynet’s? )

While I understand and appreciate the frustration people are feeling with their elected public serpents, sentences like this:

“We believe the Federal Reserve together with the above financial elites covertly manufactured the credit and real estate bubble to enhance continued foreign investment in their Treasury debt Ponzi scheme while generating obscene profits for Wall Street at the expense of the American people.”

encroach on tinfoil hat territory. The sheer number of people that would have had to be involved in this “scheme” ensures it wouldn’t remain secret. They have a legitimate gripe, though, since we’re all losing lots of money. Apparently, they are now too poor to even be able to afford commas.

It’s easy to dismiss them as goofballs, but they at least know their way around the amendment process, wanting to convene a National Convention to avoid the rigged system that is Congress. I wish them success in a spunky, underdog kind of way, but I was immediately reminded of this quote from Neal Stephenson’s novel, Interface:

“It was just a matter of time before some politician actually became stupid enough to mention forgiving the national debt.”

Random Thoughts

One of the city collection trucks in our area is labeled “Limbs Only.” I so want to paint others with ‘Heads Only” and “Torsos Only.”

***

I thought there was a recession on. You wouldn’t know it driving on I-85. Giant transfer trucks as far as the eye can see (which, given that they were surrounding me the whole time, was about thirty feet).

***

Saw a story on Myfoxdc.com about new red light cameras in Maryland, and how they were erroneously ticketing drivers that had stopped at the lights. While that didn’t surprise me, I was horrified by the mistakes in the article from this supposed twenty-year veteran journalist.

Fox 5 camera's stood at one intersection...
Your camera’s what? Oh! Did you mean “cameras?”

75 dollar citations.
Technically, every number under 100 should be written out, but if you’re going to break that rule, you definitely need a hyphen in “75-dollar.” Also, that’s an incomplete sentence, dumbass.

During a short period, the camera flashs continually went off when cars were at a complete stop. We asked one motorist, "Did you go past the red light." The unidentified driver said, "no I didn't, I'm still stopped here at the red light. If I went thru then you wouldn't be talking to me know.”
Misspelled word, incorrect punctuation, no capital letter at the beginning of a sentence, incorrect punctuation, misspelled word, incorrect word.

Seriously? This is professional journalism? This kind of laxity really pisses me off when I’m struggling to land writing gigs.

***

You know…I’ve been reading all kinds of articles on the financial crises, and most of them use “too big to fail” at some point within the story. Like AIG, for example. According to half of the articles, if we let AIG crash, it will destroy our economy. My question is: Why didn’t Congress break up AIG like it did to AT&T and Microsoft? If the failure of your company would completely devalue the dollar, you need to be reigned in.

***

It has recently come to light that Scott S. Reuben, former Chief of Acute Pain at Baystate Medical Center, was involved in fabricating twenty-one different medical studies, including studies for Bextra, Vioxx, Lyrica, Celebrex, and Effexor. While Reuben has declined to comment, his attorney has referred to “extenuating circumstances,” without going into any detail.

Extenuating circumstances? Bullshit. Nothing can justify this kind of massive irresponsibility. Dr. Rueben should have his license to practice medicine revoked, be sued into destitution, and then be shot in the head.

Roundup

Bootlegging 2.0

On March 1st, Arkansas will institute a $0.56/pack tax on cigarettes. On April 1st, the new federal tax goes into effect, raising the price another $0.62/pack. The Arkansas Attorney General’s Office has stated that any Arkansas resident that drives across the Missouri border to purchase cigarettes is legally restricted from possessing any more than 1 carton and 1 pack (11 packs total) without an Arkansas tax stamp. If the value of the un-stamped tobacco in their possession is greater than $100, it’s a Class C felony, punishable by up to 3-10 years in prison.

The federal government punishes tobacco bootlegging of more than 300 cartons (3000 packs total) with a 5-year sentence.

These hicks are nucking futs.

***

One lump or two?

Speaking of taxation, groups in many states are recreating the Boston Tea Party on a local level to protest all both new taxes and hikes on existing taxes. Unfortunately, a group in Cedar Rapids doesn’t seem to have a clear idea about how to protest, as they asked a senior Environmental Office specialist for permission first. Turns out that tea is considered a pollutant, and discoloration is considered a violation. The Tea Party will instead water from buckets labeled “Tea” into the river. And not just any tap water, either – the group was told they’d have to let it sit out for a while first so the chlorine will evaporate, as chlorine is considered a pollutant.

“We don’t want to hurt the river,” said the group’s founder, Wussy McWuswus.

Uh…when you ask the entity you’re protesting for permission to protest, then meekly follow their guidelines on how to do it, you’re not really effecting any sort of change, you gutless cowards.

***

If I say White-Out, is that racist?

Speaking of “Change,” I guess the President “Change”d his mind on not allowing any sort of pork-barrel earmarks into the stimulus bill, as there are 9,427 of them – one of which, a $7.7 million earmark for Tribally-Controlled Postsecondary Vocational Institutions, lists Obama as a co-sponsor. But not to worry. Rob Blumenthal of the Senate Appropriations Committee assures us that in the next draft of the bill, they will remove Obama’s name from the list of sponsors.

I am fucking gobsmacked over the chutzpah of that announcement.

***

PORN!!!

According to a report from NewScientist, so-called “Red States” consume more online porn than so-called “Blue Staes.” I don’t know if that’s weighted according to population density, or if paging through a 20-page X-rated slide show counts as one visit or twenty, but there’s a simple explanation:

They’re all doing research like the guy from yesterday’s entry.

Actually, there’s a lot that’s lacking in this study in terms of correlation/causation. I think they ran it on their site because people in all states click on links with the word “Porn” in them.

***

Get over it. And get over it.

Two things I read about this week. One, a teen-aged girl in the UK described her job as “boring” on Facebook, and was surprised to find out that her bosses knew how to use the internet. She is completely clueless as to why she was fired after posting comments such as:

'first day at work. omg!! So dull!!''all i do is shred holepunch n scan paper!!! omg!''im so totally bord!!!'

Personally, I would have fired her for not knowing how to spell “bored.”

The other incident was reported on the Huffington Post by Lane Hudson, a man who presumably took so much crap growing up over being named “Lane” that he has to spread his utter lack of humor to as many people as possible.

On a United Airlines flight, the pilot made this statement:

“Ladies and Gentlemen, if you are on the left side of the plane, you will see a spectacular view of New York City and US Airways' new runway, the Hudson River.”

Was the comment on poor taste? Debatable. My first reaction was that of one professional good-naturedly ribbing a fellow professional in light of the heroic efforts he made to protect his passengers and crew. It was not a disaster, so we can be a little light-hearted about it.

Apparently, Lame…I mean, Lane…can’t, and he’s asking for people to help him track down this pilot so he can get him fired.

Okay...I'm kinda creeped out

It's really unnerving watching it scramble for balance. I half-expected it to attack the guy that pushed it.

And because I am a geek...how long before we get to this point?

I have a Bacon Rating of 2, and other short observations

My LinkedIn profile is separated from Kevin Bacon’s by only one shared contact. I am so much cooler than I thought.

Did you know there are entire catalogs for salt? Did you know that some salt is ridiculously expensive?

More people watched American Idol yesterday than watched the Inauguration. That explains a lot.

USA Today has an article today about washing your hands. This apparently qualifies as news to the hopefully-soon-to-be-bankrupt paper.

The movie Fireproof cost about $500,000 to make, and has earned more than $33 million. A 6600% return on investment isn’t too shabby. That’s better than Exxon.

Former French president Jacques Chirac was rushed to a hospital after being mauled by his own 'clinically depressed' pet poodle. The upcoming jokes probably won’t help the dog’s disposition. Or France’s.

Canada is concerned that compact fluorescent bulbs emit harmful UV radiation. Once again, differing alarmist ideologies clash. Who will win this round: the save-Nature-at-all-costs camp or the save-people-from-themselves team?

Wandering Around in My Head

As I may have mentioned before, I visit several news aggregate sites every day: FreeRepublic and DemocraticUnderground for politics, FARK for general stuff, and other boards for various specific interests. What kills me is the people on these boards who show up in the comments threads to note that the story is either a duplicate of one already posted at the site, or has been posted elsewhere online.

What’s the fucking point of posting that? Are you trying to impress us with the fact that you have the time to note every single submission to the site? You need to get out more. And really? It’s been posted elsewhere online? Perhaps you don’t understand how an AGGREGATOR site works. I don’t want to visit every vaguely-related .com every day, so I rely on people with whom I share certain opinions or viewpoints to find topical stuff and post it here. Of course it’s been posted elsewhere, you moron!

Each site seems to acquire its own little group whose only contributions are these kinds of posts. I always picture them as spinsters, with pursed lips and a raised eyebrow, going “Hmmmm?” Tapping their liver-spotted fingers on the offending headline to make sure you see it. It’s the internet, bitch. It ain’t gonna get full because someone double-posted a story about a cat that can tell when someone’s going to die.

***

I’m pretty sure I witnessed a multiple homicide on Dora the Explorer the other night. I was wandering through the kids’ room, and noted that Dora & Co. had a group of bad guys tied to a ship’s mast. Our heroes proceed to reclaim whatever it was the bad guys had taken from them, and jumped over to Diego’s Rescue Center ship. As they did the “We did it!” dance, the other ship sank in the background. Even by Rocky & Bullwinkle standards, that’s pretty dark.

***

My local paper apparently has a +48 Resistance to Irony when it comes to our economy. On Page 1A, they’ll headline “County Employment at Record Low!” On page 5A, they’ll note that the county government just spent $40,000 for a new tourism campaign, a campaign developed by a company in Arkansas. On page 2B, there’s a story about the contractor from the other side of the state that’s coming in to renovate some city-owned buildings, and page 13B has the story about the number of small local construction companies that have gone out of business.

***

We took Kitten and Cub to the local pizza buffet tonight, in hopes that the carb overload might shut them down early. It’s one of those places that has a television on every wall and an arcade in the back. We had three screens in our room – two news stations and Cartoon Network (you know…for kids!). The local news was repeating CNN’s non-news story about how Obama might age while in office, while on another wall, the actual CNN was showing clips from an Obama press conference. I was really surprised that the Cartoon Network wasn’t featuring Obama, too, since he lifted his entire campaign from Bob the Builder. Can we infringe copyright? Yes we can!

***

I realize that the English language is constantly evolving, but the current use of “ginormous” irritates me. It’s a completely useless and unnecessary word, because all it does it combine two synonyms without expanding the definition of either. Similarly, the UK term “drink-driving” offends my sense of grammar. Are you steering a cocktail down the motorway? When was the last time you were drink?

***

When Frank Caliendo’s career fizzles out (4…3…2…), he should offer to do his voices for the TomTom network. It would be cheaper than getting the actual celebrities (though the John Cleese package is a lot of fun.) I’ve been disappointed in TomTom’s selection of voices, though. They don’t have an Aussie, Kiwi, or believable Irish. They need Amy Walker.

The Ruling Class

Did you hear that Tribune Media is filing for Chapter 11? I saw it on the Chicago Tribune’s web site.

If this is an example of their usual journalistic standards, I’m surprised it took this long for them to go under.

Other random things on my mind include this story from the UK:


Extinguishers banned as a fire safety hazard

Fire extinguishers could be removed from communal areas in flats throughout the country because they are a safety hazard, it has emerged.

The life-saving devices encourage untrained people to fight a fire rather than leave the building, risk assessors in Bournemouth decided.


Ordinarily, I’d post some snarky comment about either irony or the Nanny State tendencies of the English, but I think in this case, a healthy “What the fuck?” will suffice.

And speaking of Lawmakers Gone Wild!, there was this gem a couple of weeks ago:


Florida: A Port St. Lucie boy has been busted after police caught him with a bag of parsley. The 15-year-old was with another 13-year-old boy on their way to a friend's house on Friday morning when they were questioned.

The older boy told police that he planned to trick his friend into thinking his baggie of parsley was really marijuana. He also admitted to smoking the real deal the prior day.

He was arrested and charged with possession of a counterfeit controlled substance with the intent to deliver.


Man, oh man…I hope the cops don’t ever raid my kitchen; I’ve got counterfeit cocaine, counterfeit pot, counterfeit heroin…

I looked up the specific statute that covers this case, and it’s not a crime unless you admit that you were going to try and make someone think it was a real drug. So what was this 15-year-old supposed to say when the police asked “What are you going to do with that baggie of parsley?” Who does this law protect? Legitimate drug dealers? And Florida’s not the only stupid state, Ohio’s got a version of it, too. There was this bit from Akron’s court blotter:


(December 5, 2007, Akron) … Prosecutor Sherri Bevan Walsh announced today that Dexter L. Harrison, 21, of Cliffside Drive in Akron, Ohio, was found guilty by a jury of Aggravated Robbery with a Firearm Specification, a felony of the first degree, Possession of a Counterfeit Controlled Substance, a misdemeanor of the first degree, and Possession of Marijuana, a minor misdemeanor.


Did you see that? The possession of a counterfeit controlled substance is a more serious crime than possession of the real substance. Is this opposite day or something? (And if you tell me “no,” how can I believe you?)

See, lawmakers pass these bizarre statutes, and then expect us to listen to them when they advise us on how to protect ourselves, when we have direct evidence they’re absolutely bug-fuck insane. There was a story recently about a woman from Harlem that had gotten mugged on a subway, then ran down her muggers and grabbed onto one, not letting go until they gave her purse back. The cops "lauded” her “spunk,” but were quick to add that tired old platitude about how “you shouldn't take matters in your own hands like that.” Why not, Officer? Obviously none of the boys in blue were on the subway with her. What else was she supposed to do? I tend to agree with those that cling to their guns when they opine “I carry a gun because a cop is too heavy,” or “When there are only seconds between life or death, a cop is just minutes away.”

I think that’s why movies about vigilantes always do well, because people want to think that in the same situation, they’d have the balls to put things to rights themselves. Boondock Saints taps into that feeling with the newscasts presented throughout the film (especially in the credits). Batman is a vigilante with “wonderful toys”, the new Bond goes off the reservation any time it’s convenient, Jason Bourne is a rogue agent, Dirty Harry had his own catchphrase, Charles Bronson had the Death Wish series. People would like to say “Fuck the rules, I’m fixing this.” Especially when the rules state that having fake pot is more of a crime than having real pot.

Je ne sais quoi

You know that instance where someone says something cutting to you, and you can’t think of a good retort until much later? Turns out there’s an expression for it: l’esprit de l’escalier. It means ‘the spirit of the staircase’, which is a perfect image – two people passing on the stairs. The French, though utter shitheads in many ways, do have a gift for encapsulating the human condition(s) with pithy phrasing. I think this is one of the reasons writing can be so satisfying, because as the author, you can give your characters the perfect one-liner, insult, or rationalization with no filler words, stammering, or having to resort to ‘Oh yeah?!’

There are two types of Prius owners: those who just want to save money on gas, and those who want everyone to know they drive a Prius. I was at a drive through today when another car pulled up beside me. The man driving asks “What kind of mileage are you getting out of that Matrix?” “About 27,” I reply. He shakes his head sadly. “Bummer.” Then he smirks and drives off, and I see the model plate. What a prick. Is there any wonder the derogatory name for the car is the Pious? Have any of these assholes considered how the electricity for their hybrid is generated? Chances are pretty good it’s a plant that burns some sort of petroleum product. When your vehicle is powered by a wind-driven flywheel, you can be smug. Until then, fuck off.

Anyone else notice the change in the framing of the Global Warming argument? When it first became an issue, proponents insisted it was all the fault of human activities. They maintained this position adamantly, despite the fact that other planets in our solar system also demonstrated temperature gains. You know…the planets without people on them? Anyway, somewhere along the line, they dropped the anthropogenic codicil, and now just talk about Global Warming. It’s sneaky, because I know they still think Man caused, and can fix, the ‘problem.’ If I agree that the world is heating up, I know they’ll think I agree with them as to the cause. If I dispute the underlying cause, I get filed under ‘denier’ in their tiny mental filing cabinet, and all progress stops. It’s cause and effect, you idiot. Two separate things. You can agree on the effect and disagree on the cause.

I saw Righteous Kill the other day. I hate the fact that this was the script that brought DeNiro and Pacino together for the ‘first’ time. If they hadn’t been the leads, it wouldn’t have made half as much as it has. And it was kind of disturbing to watch DeNiro have sex with Carla Gugino, even if it was almost entirely implied rather than shown. DeNiro may be a great actor, but he’s no great looker. I cringed at his sex scene with Bridget Fonda in Jackie Brown. Another awful pairing was Nick Nolte and Jennifer Connelly in Mulholland Falls. If you want to have a sexy woman in your movie, fine. If you want a love scene with her, that’s okay, too. But please, Mr. Director, either make it with a good looking actor or use strategic lighting, because we don’t want to associate Miss Connelly with Nick Nolte’s sweaty red face. Ewww.

I forget which car company it is (so obviously their advertising isn’t working), but their latest campaign includes a bunch of covers of Beatles tunes. I don’t know if you know this, Mister Ad Exec, but no one over the age of 14 likes the Jonas Brothers. Number one, their cover is horrible. Number two, no one who likes them can afford your car, or if they can, are not old enough to drive it. Is the ‘overpaid-child-actor-who-wants-to-buy-his-grandmother-a-new-car’ that large a market segment? When your client goes to the government to be bailed out of bankruptcy, your fee better not be a line item. You should have known better.

Books I finished in the last week: Freakonomics – Steven D. Levitt; Little Brother – Cory Doctorow; Men and Cartoons – Jonathan Lethem; The Stupidest Angel – Christopher Moore.

Books I’ll finish this week: The System of the World – Neal Stephenson; Blue Mars – Kim Stanley Robinson; Three Days to Never – Tim Powers.

Books I’ll start next week: A Game of Thrones – George R. R. Martin; The Big Book of Pulps – Black Lizard; Killer in the Rain – Raymond Chandler.

(Why yes, I am currently unemployed, why do you ask? Actually, how I spend my daytime hours doesn’t affect my reading rate. I am a voracious reader, and keep four or five books going continually. I replace my library cards faster than my debit cards.)

Song I currently have on Repeat: “Something About You” by Level 42.



And you? How have you been?

Video Killed the Radio Star

You a Buggles fan? Oh, well.

I decided to try out this fancy “embed” option from YouTube just to highlight a few of my favorite videos.



“Paralyzer” – Finger Eleven

An impressive video for a groovy tune. I like the atmosphere of the empty street with the neutral color palette. I think the casting is good, especially the girl, who really isn’t "pretty" or "sexy" as those are usually defined by music videos, but has an intriguing face (wholly appropriate to the lyrics). I absolutely love the simple editing tricks that make it look like a whole group of dancers can spontaneously explode from her body. If I could choose a superpower, that one would be high on the list.





“Pipe Dream” – Animusic

You may have already seen this in your e-mail Inbox, as it was passed around quite a bit (and even has its own Snopes entry - http://www.snopes.com/photos/arts/musicmachine.asp). I think the popularity of this piece comes from the fact that it seems so darned plausible. That…and the fact that it’s just cool.




“Starship Groove” – Animusic

Another awesome video from the Animusic team. Not only is it a great tune, but I really like the idea of a ship sailing through the galaxies on no other mission than to boogie.




”Resonant Chamber” – Animusic

Last one from Animusic (though there are two DVDs worth, with a third on the way). The articulated parts of this machine remind me of H.R. Giger’s work, which I like as much as the tune. The Animusic team takes as much care with sound effects and atmosphere as they do with the central animations and the music, and that’s what makes these videos really pop.




”Bathroom” – The Umbilical Brothers

I found these guys after they showed up on Noggin as “The Upside Down Show,” which my three-year-old loves. Okay…I do too. They had an off-Broadway show called “Thwack” a few years ago, and have been doing this kind of comedy for about a decade now.




“Tap Dance” – The Umbilical Brothers

Another fun clip. The “brothers’” sketch comedy is well-planned, as they make use of camera perspective and physical effects to augment their physical efforts.




The Shining trailer remix

There are lots of these type of remixes floating around. Some are good, most are terrible. This is one of the first I saw, and is still one of the best (in my humble-yet-correct opinion).



Cello “Final Countdown”

Pure. Gold.

Change the world? Nah. Change the station.

He sits down in the comfortable chair behind the microphone, flips a switch to coax the “ON AIR” sign to life, takes a breath…

Hey there, guys and gals; dudes and dudettes; kids of all ages! It’s time once again for the Electric Tower Power Hour! Playing the tracks from the stack of wax! Spinning the platters that matter! Off of the charts and into your hearts! From seven-thirty ‘til your clothes are dirty! I’m the cat that’ll take you back! So grab a glass of something that’ll make you feel like dancing as we jump into the Wayback Machine and boogie!

~ahem~

Let’s talk about music, shall we? It tames the savage beast, they say. It’s also one of the three aspirations of the “good life” (the other two being wine and women). Seems that we’re hardwired to create and respond to music – from lofty liturgical pieces to dirty dancing and block-rocking bass beats. Full orchestras to one guy pushing a slide guitar. A capella doo-wop quartets to talk box-driven arena rock.

Do you feel like I do?

I have a theory that’s been consistently borne out whenever I remember to pay attention. I believe that everybody has one song that they slip into whenever their brain goes into neutral. It keeps the neurons running hot so you can do a quick boot when you have to rejoin the world. Doesn’t matter if you even like the song, there’s just something about that particular arrangement of notes that fits snugly into the grooves of your mind. This is different from an earworm, though it operates on similar principles. The difference is that you’re usually very much aware of (and annoyed by) earworms. The phenomenon I’m referring to is one where you aren’t even aware that you’re singing, humming, whistling, or tapping out the song that is apparently track #1 on the soundtrack of your life. Mine is usually Pachelbel’s “Canon in D”. Not trying to be pretentious or anything; that’s just the one I catch myself humming. On occasion, my wife will burst out with the chorus to “Margaritaville,” much to her annoyance, because she hates Jimmy Buffet. A coworker of mine whistles that tune you usually hear associated with circuses. If it has a name, I don’t know it, though Three Dog Night used it as the opening to “The Show Must Go On.”

I think it’s fair to say that music in general has made society better. It provides a cultural mirror to observe ourselves in, sets the appropriate tone for certain occasions, or just gives us something to listen to while we fold laundry to help tolerate the drudgery. The reason this has been on my mind lately is that I saw recently where Neil Young has given up on any music changing the world.

“I think that the time when music could change the world is past," he told reporters. ”I think it would be very naive to think that in this day and age."

I think Neil’s just being pissy because it wasn’t any of his songs. I hope he’ll remember a Southern Man don’t need him around anyhow. (Since he’s Canadian, that means everyone in the States.)

Personally, I’ve always thought Mr. Young was too damned whiny. I always get the feeling that he’s wagging his finger at his listeners (until he chopped one of them off, anyway). It’s not the genre; I can groove on the folk rock style. I like Jim Croce, James Taylor, Gordon Lightfoot, etc. I don’t even mind the pie-in-the-sky idealism of the 60s groups (that cultural mirror I mentioned earlier). Neil - and by extension, Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young - just always sounds shrill to me. I’ll admit that Young is a good lyricist. I like Cinnamon Girl, (and just to note, if you haven’t heard Type O Negative’s cover of that, you’re missing out), I’d just rather read his stuff than listen to him bloviate at me.

The problem is that no two people have the exact same taste in music. Even if you both like a song, you’re going to get different things out of it, so how can music change anything towards a common goal when it changes people in different ways?

I think this is why remaking songs is more accepted than remaking movies. Movies are successful because the director gets the audience to buy in to his realization of the material. When that many people agree on something, remaking it is very tricky. There’s an agreed-upon template for how that story should be presented – from the wardrobe and lighting to the mannerisms of the characters. Even the subtle things like the types of lenses used can affect the presentation. Think about it – would 300 have been as successful if it had been rotoscoped, like A Scanner Darkly? Probably not.

Songs, by contrast, are open to interpretation. Artists can play with scales and keys, rhythm and tempo – in effect, creating a song that is at once familiar and brand new. A lot of successful bands got their start doing covers, introducing their own material once the audience agreed that they were worth listening to. I have a lot of covers in my collection: Alanis’ cover of Seal’s Crazy, the requisite versions of Tainted Love, and various Weird Al polka remixes. I have a version of Pour Some Sugar on Me by Emm Gryner that’s presented as a ballad, and a version of Mad World that was rewritten as a dark, emo-type song. The aforementioned Cinnamon Girl is in heavy rotation right now. They also cover Summer Breeze and Hit Me Baby One More Time. It’s worth a listen. Anytime you have a 6’6 ½” guy from Brooklyn with a voice than can blow out your subwoofer covering a Pop Tart hit, fun ensues.

Even though song covers are generally accepted, you still have to be careful. When Limp Bizkit covered Behind Blue Eyes, I enjoyed it right up to the point that he dropped the bridge of the song. Don’t edit, people. There are certain parts we expect to hear. It’s especially annoying when radio stations edit songs for length. I know you have to cover over “You’re such a fucking hypocrite” when you air Seether’s Fake It, but cutting Zakk Wylde’s solo from No More Tears really pisses me off. The whole song builds to that one fretburn, and I’m primed to headbang. When you cut it, I use that built-up adrenaline to punch the Scan button.

Another reason music won’t change the world is that there are too many categories. Rock, Classic Rock, Southern Rock, Oldies, Contemporary, Jazz, Swing, Marimba, Big Band, Zydeco, Classical, Techno, Trance, House, Rave, Trip Hop, Hip Hop, Rap, Gangsta Rap, Old School, Beat Box, Grunge, Alternative, Emo, Metal, Speed Metal, Thrash Metal, NuMetal, Death Metal, Goth Metal, Goth, Grave, Pop, Punk, Rockabilly, Psychobilly, Roadhouse, Country, New Country, Latin, Gospel, Disco, Folk, Bluegrass…and that’s just off the top of my head. If I had more than four readers, I’d be getting e-mails listing dozens that I forgot.

I seriously doubt Green Day is going to start a movement when people don’t even agree on which category they belong in.

Again, I just think Neil Young is jealous. If anyone’s music was going to change the world, Cliff Richard had the best chance. He holds the record for most singles sold (21 million), and has been credited on the most Top 40 hits (122). On the other hand, Elvis Presley holds the record for most continuous weeks on the Top 40 (1060), the longest span of hits (51 ½ years), longest continuous run on the Top 40 (135 weeks), most simultaneous Top 40 hits (7), most Top 10 hits (76) [Cliff Richard is second with 66], and the most new Top 40 hits in one year (12). I like Heartbreak Hotel as much as the next person, but it’s hardly a call to action like Do You Hear the People Sing from Les Miserables.

Even songs that deliberately attempt to change the world usually fall far short. We are the World only raised $63 million. Artists that participated were famously told to “check your egos at the door.” If they, by contrast, had just written a check for $1.5 million each, it would have made the same amount of money, and we wouldn’t have had to sit through ad nauseum airings. Ironically, Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young declined to participate. They also failed to participate in any of the three Band Aid efforts.

So much for changing the world, Neil.

Current mood: Confused

Ever notice how freaky Dumbo’s drunk sequence is? Same with Pooh’s heffalumps and woozles number.

So I went to Hot Topic’s Sounds of the Underground tour this past weekend. It was the last day of the tour, and was being held at Waverly Hills Sanatarium. (Look it up if you don’t already know the history.) Thirty death-metal bands for thirty dollars. That ain’t bad. The thing that tickled me was when the lead singer would get up and address the audience: “Hey, guys! We really appreciate all of you coming out and standing around in the 95-degree heat just to see us. We do this because your support means a lot to us, and we want to thank all of you. We’re going to do a song off our new album. It hasn’t been released yet, but you’re going to hear it first because without you, we wouldn’t have come this far. Hope you like it. It’s called Rrrogrrlllwrrr!” If you’re familiar with death-metal, you’re probably L-ing your AO right now. If you aren’t, I just can’t explain it. One thing that I thought was really cool was when the groups would whip the crowd into doing circles, they’d always be sure to say some variation of “And if someone falls down, rescue ‘em!” Good times.

Out of the mouths of babes: My daughter was asking if I enjoyed the concert, and what kind of instruments the bands were playing. “Electric guitar, electric bass, some keyboards, and drums.” She digested this and then asked: “No accordions?”

If you write a book on how to be a failure, and it doesn’t sell any copies, are you?

I asked my wife to say those three little words that make me dance on air. She said “Go hang yourself.”

I think there’s a lot of unnecessary overcommunication these days, in that a lot of my day is spent giving different people the same information. Don’t they talk to each other? I dislike repeating myself.

I think there’s a lot of unnecessary overcommunication these days, in that a lot of my day is spent giving different people the same information. Don’t they talk to each other? I dislike repeating myself.

I don’t think you can fully appreciate Alice in Wonderland until you’ve made a serious study of logic – mathematical, grammatical, and philosophical.

I watch a lot of old movies – from the 30s and 40s kids, not the 80s – and a couple of things that I really have come to appreciate about them is the fact that there are usually only about three screens’ worth of credits, and no “secret scenes” at the end. When the first bonus scenes were introduced after the credits, it was kind of cool; a little “thanks for staying” to the audience. Any more, directors are doing it deliberately to try and force the crowd to sit through fifteen minutes of credits. I don’t give a fuck who the 2nd 2nd assistant director’s assistant was, or the set nurse. Why are these names in front of me? I’m sure that if you’re a good caterer, you’ll get recommendations from within the industry. It’s not bloody likely that an audience member is going to choose you because they really really liked Bring It on Again.

Rrrogrrlllwrrr.

S-A-T-U-R-D-A-Y...Random!

Some of my favorite 80s tunes:
Don’t You (Forget About Me) – Simple Minds
Lay Your Hands on Me – Thompson Twins
One Night in Bangkok – Murray Head
How Soon is Now – The Smiths
The Promise – When in Rome
No More Words – Berlin
The Politics of Dancing – Re-Flex
Kids in America – Kim Wilde
Always Something There to Remind Me – Naked Eyes
Cry Little Sister – Lost Boys Soundtrack

I have this theory that every person has a song lodged in their brain that comes out when they’re not actively thinking of something. It doesn’t even matter if they hate the song. My wife is no Buffet fan, but hums or sings “Margaritaville” without realizing it. Similarly, when my mind shifts into neutral, I tend to whistle “Ode to Joy.” I’m not sure what purpose it serves. Maybe a mental screensaver to keep your brain booted up when it’s not otherwise engaged.

Favorite Video Game
Dragon’s Lair

Favorite Video Game quote
“Elf is about to die.”

Favorite Pinball Machine
Black Knight

I’d like to start a line of suede clothing, just so I could call it “Easily.”

Some of my favorite punchlines
Nice shot, Dad.
I didn’t know your father was a Pharmacist.
It’s the sound they make when they hit the bottom.
And as anyone with any sense could tell you, it also blew the Hell out of the meter.

A random picture from my collection


Last book I read
Harry Potter and the Deadly Hallows. God, I’m such a sheep.

Last movie I watched
The Wicker Man with Nicholas Cage

Did it suck?
Why, yes. Yes it did.

Friday Night Randomness

Current Mood: Sedate

Current Musical Obsession: The Foiled album by Blue October, particularly Congratulations and Overweight

Current Current: 120 volts

Currant: the small, edible, acid, round fruit or berry of certain wild or cultivated shrubs of the genus Ribes

I have a lot of characters that I have developed for some writing groups I belong to. Most of them are female. It doesn't matter if they're a human assassin, a ghoul, a jilted lover, or a werewolf, they're all incredible badasses, able to take care of themselves and others with grace, style, and inner strength. This probably reflects how I feel about women in general. Then again, maybe I'm a heroine addict.

Ran across this picture online:

This is what I wrote:

Sometimes the perfect person to confess your innermost desires and fears to is a stranger on a train. No commitments, no judgments - just an ear in which to pour your dreams and fantasies. The night outside the coach window reaches in and cloaks you, and the rumble of the steel wheels masks your fevered murmurings.

We were heading for the same place. A city once built on dreams. But as happens so often with dreams, the joy had leaked out little by little, leaving only hollow shells behind. Gaping façades of blasted fulfillment stood mocking those that had dared to reach for the light. It was a place where you whispered your hopes, keeping them small and unnoticeable, hoping they would find a sheltered spot to grow.

Our rendezvous point: the old clocktower. Pole star for every desperate person anxious to create a small, sweaty pocket of connection with someone else. Rising high into the smoky skies, a phallic monument to the clumsy fumblings of cold numb hands desperately trying to maneuver past belt buckles and buttons. Sooty fingers staining delicate white satin and lace, driving towards the heat they hide away from the world.

The face of the clock mocks me. “You fool!” it chimes. “You believed her? The promise of a stranger on a train?”

“yes,” I whisper.

And I did believe her. I wanted so much to believe her. Her yearning was a great beacon in this grey world. Not just for satisfying lust, though that was a part of it. By design, that is always a part of it. She had spoken of the sound of boots dancing on cobblestones, and of spreading quicksilver wings of defiance, and flying away!…the two of us…flying…
together.

So I waited.

She had to come! She had to! She was a stranger on a train yes, but…

I looked at my watch, and the steam of my sigh was swallowed up by the dirty yellow tatters of fog that roamed the streets.

I couldn’t wait any longer. Soon the sun would rise, sweeping the protective shadows away into a corner, and illuminating the pain of false hope on my face. I crept away on my numbed feet, leaving behind the unfulfilled promise: a pile of broken breadcrumbs and a pool of shadow rapidly running down a nearby drain. This was my body, this was my blood.

I would have shared it with you.

The edge of the city is already awash with a cruelly delicate sunrise. A soft pink that only serves to emphasize the desolation it faces. A number of piers jut outwards, giant fingers grasping for a bit of the peace and beauty that surely is present just over the horizon. Surely all places can’t be like this, whistle stops for strangers on trains, rotting carcasses pretending to life. Surely somewhere people still dance on cobblestones. It can’t all be this…hopeless.

The call of a train whistle pierces me, and I turn to the sea to allow the wind to dry my tears. It is then that I notice. I still, not daring to believe, bracing against the culmination of a last cruel jest. But no. Her arms grasp the railing of the pier, holding herself down against the pull of the sky. And as I walk towards her, I can see quicksilver.