Eh, Happy New Year

MITTENS OFF.

Like my earlier post this year about Joy's saying that Billy Bob Thornton should just admit to being the dirty old man he really he is so we can celebrate with him, I'd like to say that Mariah Carey needs to let her Inner Aretha/Soul Diva out and let the chub take overt he capitol building. The chub has already taken over the borders and shipping routes (hips and the under-bicep flab wiggles) and by this time next year her cheekbones and jawline won't look thin enough on camera (with strategic blush) to shade in strong jawbone lines for the TV. At some point every true Diva must admit that hitting the notes makes up for not hitting the gym anymore.

Just go with it honey, it can never get *that* bad. Even Liza still has thousands of New York drag queens worshipping her till she dies. Even though these days when she hears "Minelli!" screamed at her on the street, she politely replies back "no thanks but I doesn't eat pasta anymore."

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Yes, Ryan Seacrest will be the new/next Dick Clark. What the hell else can he do?

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I've seen 'The Big Lebowski" so many times I lost count. And even tonight I noticed a new layer of writing brilliance with that film/script.

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I love how the Bangles are on Dick Clark's New Year's Rocking Eve every year.

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White Russians are awesome. Especially when you're on your 4th when you start blogging.

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'
2005 sucked ass. Big, ripe, cabbage-and-broccoli/cauliflower-diet ass. Light but putrid, like 'heavy ink-saturated plastic stuff on fire' ripe ass; Dog turd in the shoe sole, first girlfiend dumping you, one number off from winning thousands with a lotto ticket, wedgie in public, identity theft, Dick Clark strokin', food poisoning, tsunami apocalypse, Jar Jar, paying for unnecessary car repairs, favorite band flaking out, no more beer, religous fundafanaticism RIPE ASS.

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Hey! Like, 4 months till Spring dude!

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This year I turn 35 and leave the coveted 18-34 demographic target. I am officially considered uncool and worthless to the U.S consumer corporate nation-state. Unless my future kids wish to drink liquid plastic from wax snack tubes and play in my ultra clean living room being scented with plug-in toxic waste diluted down to a slow gas with chemical agent GX720 (who's label reads "smells citrus-ey") which also keeps my electric bill constant.

All we read about is how pheromones are what really attract people, but all the beautiful people wear overpriced perfume and zap the ions from their home's atmosphere to eradicate odor and replace it with clean scents. How are we supposed to get horny and know our mate's want it when our suburban biosphere kills every airborne spanish fly agent? Pat Robertson wants us to assasinate dictators, but not feel the need to reproduce more 700 Club members? I don't get it.

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2006 is big for me. The last 5 years have been an amorphous glob of time in my head. 2000, 2001, 2, 3, 4, 5 has always been in my head just another year of the millenium....hitting 2000. But since 6 is closer to 10 than it is to 0, 2006 finally feels to me like the Oo! Ah! of the millenium has lifted. It's no longer just a little past 2000/The Millenium, but the second half of a decade. I remember my life thus far per decade and can remember significant perceptionary shifts for each year. But 2000 to now has been one big cantelope. I always hated on Wild Kingdom how the lions would chase, catch and eat the cantelope. But Dad told me it was good I understand how nature really works.

The Producers

Here's why you should go see the new 'The Producers' movie.
(The one with Nathan Lane and Matthew Broderick -- the film version of the Broadway version of the original 1968 Mel Brooks film.)

First of all, because it's terrific.

Secondly and most importantly if you're a Mel Brooks fan, it's important you see this movie.

Why?

Some backstory...
One fun drunken night in college, a thought came to me which I scribbled on one of the supporting 2 by 4's of Zac Johnson's apartment bunk loft. It was:

"When you begin to remember the beginning of the moment, the moment is about to run out."

I'm still honing and massaging this little aphorism of mine grammar-wise, but the jist is: when something's about to come to it's natural end, it begins to revert back or get in touch with it's roots and beginning pure state(s). A good example is like when say you're at a party and having a conversation with a stranger you just met. For a few minutes the conversation keeps your attention a little via politeness and introductory banter, then both of you reach a point where there's nothing more to talk about. Uncomfortable pauses, searching for transitional topics for something interesting again, no common ground was reached to take the chat another level. No new sparks of interest arise. Then you find yourself daydreaming a little, remembering what you first started talking about/what got you into the conversation in the first place. You start remembering the beginning of that moment. And usually by this point, it's obvious that the moment of interaction is about to expire. One of you will excuse yourself for a bathroom visit or another drink. It's when you start remembering the beginning that seems to be the signal that the end is near.

So here's what I'm seeing:

This new Producers is the best Mel Brooks movie in a long time. Because it's the same recipe that made the classic Brooks movies (The 1968 Producers, Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein, History of the World) what they were - trained actors from vaudeville and stage who honed the subtleties of live comedy via those performance venues, mastering the exquisite timing and nuances needed to pull it off right. And Mel put them in one space together, aimed the camera and told them "Go!". Like Hitchcock movies, the actors delivered whole scenes in one frame, or with two cameras for each viewpoint. It was not a mechanical volley of separately filmed closeups between the two actors. We saw the actors acting to each other. It was essentially live stage comedy with a camera recording it. Think the old Carol Burnett show on TV.

I said for years that the reason "Spaceballs" and following Brooks movies were not as great as Blazing Saddles was because the primary actors were not trained like the Harvey Korman's, Gene Wilder's, (and Mel Brook's himself.) They paid their comedy dues in front of live audiences. Who do we remember from Spaceballs as being hilarious? Rick Moranis as Dark Helmet and John Candy as the dog/Chewbacca character. Hmmm... those guys were in SCTV a.k.a Second City TV i.e. The Second City LIVE improv comedy group. Bling Blam Traffic Jam! there's your live comedy stage training. No offense but Bill Pullman and Daphne Zuniga were just impotent in that movie. That's right, impotent with a missing capitol R. Joan Rivers, a veteran live standup comedienne VOICED the female C3PO robot character in that movie and had funnier deliveries than Bill and Daphne put together.

Anyway...
Point is, how cosmically ironic and wonderful:
Mel Brooks FIRST movie (The 1968 Producers utilizing this recipe that starts his film success), he gets a string of classics, then he and his trusted stable of stage actors are replaced with younger/mostly-film actors and his movies start to lose their potency? The comedy timing has to come from quick edits to punch the lines, not the actor's comedy chops or stellar characterizations.

Then fast-forward 30some years and someone gets the idea to take the '68 Producers, adapt it TO THE STAGE, it becomes the biggest hit on Broadway in the beginning of the millenium, then someone greenlights to make a new film version OF THE STAGE PLAY, which was based off the MOVIE that used STAGE techniques??!! Some things protect themselves by being what they are.

I see this as the beauty and genius of Mel Brooks finding it's way back to itself. And this movie feels like a Mel Brooks film. Susan Strohman who directed the Broadway stage show directs the movie, yet Mel helped and the material is pure Mel and it's there. Susan understands Brooks. The movie is filled with the love of life and it's natural hilarity that Mel brought to audiences all along.

So back to my little aphorism -- and I say this with all respect and love, intending no gloom...

Mel is not getting any younger. His beloved wife Ann Bancroft (Mrs. Robinson of 'The Graduate') died in 2005, 30+ years together and reports were it just crushed him. What made Mel Brooks and his movies so loved and treasured has been returned to the world via the original vehicle that started it all for him. His humor, his recipe, his love of life and comedy, delivered by professionals who have the chops to do it justice because they trained in comedy the same way Mel's contemporaries did back in his day.

By this new Producers coming to us, we see the beginning of the Mel Brooks "Moment". And as life and the universe goes in circles, we're coming back around the 'Mel Brooks Circle' to remember the beginning of that "Moment."(Study atoms and the orbiting nature of it's components, then build up all matter from that circular orbiting action.) A take on the concept of "coming full circle." We're seeing the beginning of the moment, which may mean it's about to run out.

I hate to say it, but my heart and mind fears that for Mel, the Great Master of Ceremonies for the Variety Show in the Sky might decide that Mission has been Accomplished and ask Mel to come start writing for his old buddies trying to put a new show together up there.

Go see this new Producers. The cast is perfect, you'll be reminded how fantastic Nathan Lane is, why you respect Matthew Broderick, and yet again how much Uma Thurman can surprise you with talent you never knew she had.

And stick around through all the credits, there's a great treat at the very very very end of the film. If this blog of mine made sense to you as a Mel Brooks fan (or even not), you'll be glad you did.

Eat Poop, Visit Mars

Bacteria Eat Human Sewage, Produce Rocket Fuel

Seems everyone wants Matt Millen fired.

In regards to bad management, I once heard someone comment "that a dead fish stinks from the head down."

The Detroit Lions

Q: What do you call 47 millionaires around a TV watching the Super
Bowl?
A: The Detroit Lions.

Q: What do the Detroit Lions and Billy Graham have in common?
A: They both can make 70,000 people stand up and yell "Jesus Christ."

Q: How do you keep a Detroit Lion out of your yard?
A: Put up goal posts.

Q: Where do you go in Detroit in case of a tornado?
A: To Ford Field - they never get a touchdown there.

Q: What do you call a Detroit Lion with a Super Bowl ring?
A: A thief.

Q: Why doesn't Grand Rapids have a professional football team?
A: Because then Detroit would want one.

Q: What's the difference between the Detroit Lions and a dollar bill?
A: You can still get four quarters out of a dollar bill.

Q: How many Detroit Lions does it take to win a Super Bowl?
A: Nobody knows and we may never find out.

Q: What do the Detroit Lions and possums have in common?
A: Both play dead at home and get killed on the road


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This chick skydived for the first time, the parachute didn't fully open, she hit the ground face-first at 50 mph. Lived. And was also pregnant. The baby's fine, she's fine, some borken bones.

You bet I'm sauced!

If you can't rock it to Night Ranger. you poor soul. I'm so sorry.
"[3] in the mornin', came without a warnin',
Everybody's gotta place to be"

The Holidays

It's a wonderful thing driving casually around your hometown near midnight, having left the bar warm and renewed from seeing good friends and defeating tall beers, and a surprise night-time snow has whitened the roads. If some old songs you grew up with are on the radio, even better.

Happy Friday

A man and his wife were sitting in the living room and he said to
her, "Just so you know, I never want to live in a vegetative state,
dependent on some machine and fluids from a bottle. If that ever happens, just
pull the plug."

His wife got up, unplugged the TV and threw out all of his beer.

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Someone finally put a good tiny camera in a slot car race car so we could see what it actually looks like to shrink down and ride that track.

Wax Off.

Pat Morita aka Arnold from Happy Days and Mr. Miyagi from Karate Kid died.
Fascinating background story about his life. He saw some serious b.s. in his day.

He was cool.


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Some Funny Serendipity

No joke, so I'm checking out compilation of Frank Zappa tunes put together by the drummer of Phish, and while listening to the song "I'm The Slime", a delicious anti/warning song about television, I click over to the onion.com and start reading this article.

Nooooo shit Frank...

Turkey's Comin'

Ted Koppel does his last Nightline tonight, Tuesday 11/22.
In one year we say bye bye to Rather, Brokaw, Jennings, and now finally Koppel.

A terrific Charlie Rose with Ted on tonight, spanning multiple Ted segments over the years on Charlie Rose.

What anchors of today are really befitting the term when it comes news? In this day and age of fashionable cynical contempt for the media, it's political leanings or affiliations, and it's ferocious Bottom-Line-Or-Die marketing agenda, will the American viewing audience possibly trust their next wave of prime time news anchors as much as they might have with this departing crew?


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Would it be cool to ride the rides at Cedar Point in the middle of winter, so when you're racing up, down, and along the rails there's snow flying past you quite fast? Shards of broken snow zipping over your head. You'd have to bumble up like an old WWII fighter pilot with goggles and helmet and scarf to withstand the cold rush of air.

Like when it snows big wet slow flakes and the suburban road street lights let you see the snow blossomng down and at your windshield. It's like your jumping into lightspeed in the Millenium Falcon.


**==========================**

My department at work takes turns bringing in better coffee to avoid the freeze-dried company supplied stuff. While opening a new canister of coffee beans this morning at work , I joked to a coworker that "revolutions usually start with the coffee."

But then I thought on it a moment.

Really, do you think throughout history that when the oppressed masses gather in the subterannean rooms to plot the uprising, that there's been an especially astute matronly member of the Resistance actually thinking "these/my people have endured enough...at least I can get some good goddamn coffee for the meeting."?

Or, in a show of 'keeping it real', they resort to integrity-keeping measures (like Eddie Vedder sleeping in his van for awhile after Pearl Jam made millions) and drink the really bad stuff? To retain their grit to keep their cause pure, ya know.

Then again, if all this fuss is about not being oppressed, why is there someone delegated to making coffee in the first place? Who's speaking up for the kitchen ladies? Getting to the lair early to make the bread for the members, keeping the coffee tins filled during the speeches, emptying the ash trays after the meeting so it doesn't stink like cold dank shit when they come next time. (How many revolutionaries you ever see not smoking? Being pawns of the State tweeks a person.)

You make sure an' teach your kids to honor the hell out of the Lunch Lady at their school. Tell Junior to say "thanks...Comrade" with a knowing wink after Mrs. Krupski wipes up the milk that Kevin made Josh laugh out his nose.


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Ya know when you see young, liberated, anti-fashion women in their 20s doing the hippy-chick, rag-a-muffin look with the mishmash of hand-me-down Grandma clothes from Value Village?

What did the hippy-chick, rag-a-muffin girls of the early pioneer times wear? Ya know, when these kind of clothes were actually the 1.0 version of themselves? Did they wear tattered old Revoluton or Civil War uniforms to the saloon?


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The J. Geils Band should be a permanent Artist-In-Residence at Bonnaroo. Every year.
Think about it. It makes total sense.

Sooooopa Toooooosday

Midnight tonight we might have that Coleman Young-legacy a-hole Kwame Kilpatrick out of Detroit's mayor office. He and his loudmouth Momma.

This guy will tell you. He rewrote lyrics against Kwame using 'Baby Got Back' but its "Kwame Got Fat". It's really bad. But one of those train wreck bads because you can't stop listening to see how much worse it is. (You can hear the real Sir Mixalot version in the background he's singing over.)


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Anyway the real reason I'm here:

"E"MAIL IS FOR "EXIT" MAIL.

Ever heard of the Peter Chung email?
Now you will.

New old Yoda

Weeks back I mentioned that the Star Wars people were going back and putting a CG Yoda into Phantom Menace, replacing the puppet. (All 6 films are coming back out again starting in 2007, in 3-D. One a year for 6 years, all the episodes in order.) You can see some of their work on this CG Yoda with the Ep 3 DVD special features disk.

During the 'Chosen One' feature on Anakin/Vader, they show the clip of Yoda again saying his speech: "Fear is the path to the dark side...fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, etc etc..." It's the CG Yoda.

It looks great.

We WILL Be Beaming To Places, Like In Star Trek.

Just you watch.
We're already slowing down light to fill it full of information and data.

You know who already slows down light and makes it do cool crazy shit?
Dudes that take on the X-Men and shit... or Palpatine and chicks in Fantastic Foursomes.










You think I'm lying?

Let's take bets on this:
The iPod gets smaller and smaller. We already have chips in dog's ears to track them. Like that technology, Apple will first create sensors that allow us to clench our jaw, twitch a cheek muscle, blink a few times to shuffle the playlists, go to the next song, etc. The little doodad to do this will start as a little chip or sensor (like the sensors in smoke alarms...a band of mine years ago, we made some to simulate drum triggers for midi. They were more sensitive than $5000 dollar jobs at GUitar Center.)

This stuff will be the bridge that gets us to triggering technology in ways that in sci-fi movies was portrayed as using telepathic ability. Using chips to sense the super subtle nerve and muscle twitches to make some technology "do our bidding" will be as though we were "controlling it with our mind."

The technology that takes over in the bad Orwellian ways always starts out as fun doodad gadget stuff.

I'm tellin' ya, read this book.




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In cooler news, it's that time of year when I can drink my favorite beer of all time, Sam Adams Cranberry Lambic, a seasonal only. I used to drink 22's of this in college. Now it can only be obtained via buying a 12pack of the holiday sampler, so I only get 2 bottles per 12pack. Damn it.

So good though. Try it.

Who doesn't love a farting preacher?



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Sitting in the allergy clinic this morning and thumbing thru a NEWSWEEK about the scandals with Karl Rove, Scooter Libby, and the other rich businessmen advising our President (and the messes it sure seems to be uncovering), it was ironic to see today's entry from my George Carlin desk calendar today:

"If everything is really the fault of politicians, where are all the bright, honest Americans who are ready to step in and replace them? Where are these people hiding? The truth is, we don't have people like that. Everyone's at the mall, scratching their balls, and buying sneakers with lights in them. And complaining about the politicians."

Check out this soccer dude hitting the crossbar of the goal every time. From the outside box.
(Takes a sec while puts shoes on in beginning. Wait for it.)


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Well, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith came out today. All 6 movies are now in the hands of geeks everywhere. Now we can take George up on his claim of "it's one long story you have to take in all at once." We'll see. I'm sure it's cool.

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I did not do up Halloween like I wished I would have this year. I'm quite bummed about this and disappointed in myself. Especially after finding an email I sent myself of what I should have dressed up as. It would have been perfect. So next year then. Glad you know this, aren't you?

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RadioShack is making (or made) a nice comeback. The store I was in last night was pretty hip. They hired a team to take the GeekDrab "white walls and hooks" aesthetic out and make the store more pleasant on the eyes while you're shopping. Some color, ya know. I grew up with these stores so they have a weird place in my heart kinda; my Dad was an electrical engineer so per whatever project he was working on, there were lots of runs to RadioShack back in my way younger years. That was OUR hardware store to run to on weekends. Remember when computers in the early 80s were coming out, like Atari 800XL and the Commodore 64? But do you remember RadioShack's line of computers just like them but with the orange text fonts on the black screen? Like the computers in WarGames that Broderick was using, but with ORANGE font? Seems pretty cool now eh? Back then it was like "what, you expect me to buy this obvious lowgrade computer? Thes eletters are orange!"

Like my dumb 10 year old ass knew what a computer did or that orange font made a difference to anything. I bet though if I made a black t-shirt with dot-matrix orange font across it saying 'radio shack', I'd get some serious mock-retro cred. I'd be so hip Ashton would have to punk me. I wouldn't even need a Miller Light trucker cap to get in the club. Bruce Willis would be snorting coke off MY tits in the Champagne Room.

As an annoyed Fenster would say: "Whutda fah?..."

Feels Like The First Time

While thinking on some inner band dynamic stuff goin on with the group I play in (we just had our first two gigs this month, after 5 months of practicing) it occured to me that the first gig of a band is akin in ways to the first time a couple has sex.

Like any scenario of cherries being popped, once a band (or a couple) go thru that, it changes everything -- People got all worked up beforehand, then in the act made themselves vulnerable, put their pride, ego, talent and ability on the line, then afterwards have all kinds of thoughts about how they performed, how it went over, worrying about what the other(s) thought of it, and then they start ruminating about all kinds of extra petty dramatic stuff afterwards -- An exagerated, hindsight laundry list of how they perceived the act/show really went over.

Suddenly all this personal stuff can come up about who thinks something about it should be more like this or that, who isn't delivering what's needed, who needs to ante up or back off, and most importantly, if this is going to continue, there's a whole bunch of other stuff (never brought up before, but obviously thought of all along) that now needs to be addressed before next time or someone's gonna quit.

Think about that angle the next time you hear a musician say "Oh yeah, bands are like relationships." If you're a musician, remember this after you play your first gig and see what conversations (unlike any had before the first gig) erupt.

Hearing that Green Day's new concert DVD movie is being screened in theaters across the country this week one night, the thought came to me...

Won't it be cool when in another 20 years when the "stolen" home sex video of 2024's "Pam & Tommy"-esque celeb couple will probably be an ad before the movie you go see? Live feeds from hospitals around the world, you can be watching the Gone With The Wind 100 anniversary theater screening and some baby popping out of Madonna's daughter cuts in on widescreen glory. Cuz People and Us Weekly will own and operate anything that recorded or photographed anything, including it's delivery systems. People will own Einstein's light.

People will own Einstein's light.
I think I muttered that passed out and seatbelted in upright in a the backseat of '87 Chevette during a drinking night in high school. While my friends went bowling. No, wait. I muttered "I go Bob Brant college..." That was after I drunkenly sauntered around the McDonal's drivethru lane (next to the bowling alley), to go lay over the back tailfin of a parked car opposite of the drivethru window (and the headset wearing crews watching me.) Then I puked my brains out while they hurriedly shut the order window screaming "Eeewwww!". Yes, I gave them the ol' Caddyshack "Spalding" treatment, like when he puked in the Doctor's Porsche.

After that is when I got secured in the car.

Backpack fulla' Boom

Did you know a kid blew himself up outside a University of Oklahoma football game this past month?

He tried to get in the stadium, but was turned away when he refused to show his backpack contents to the guards. So he went and sat on a bench outside and hit the trigger.

Why wasn't this been around the news?

And we got undercover camera teams getting into nuclear reactors very very easily around the country's universitys.
They sent hot chicks into the nuclear labs on campus and they got all the way to the gold, even took pictures and were left alone next to the reactor allegeldy. But when they started taking pics outside of the library on campus, THEN the campus security came around asked what they were up to.


Excuse me?


[Some friends toldme the bomb story link was asking for registration. Anyway here it is. Just to back myseld up, if you go to dallasnews.com, search on 'Mark Davis, oklahoma' in the search, you'll get the link to this story.]


Mark Davis:
Media might be missing a story and ignoring a terrorist

06:06 PM CDT on Wednesday, October 12, 2005

Imagine a man with a bomb strapped to his body making his way into a packed football stadium, reaching his seat and blowing himself up.

There would be a heavy death toll in what would be the first successful terrorist act on U.S. soil since 9-11.

Jolting us back to memories of the Oklahoma City bombing, this would obviously be a massive headline in our ongoing war on terror. One would think attention would be heightened even further if such a story were to occur again in Oklahoma.

Well, there's reason to believe it nearly happened, and it was indeed in Oklahoma, making the paltry coverage of the story unfathomable.

On Oct. 1, as the Oklahoma Sooners hosted Kansas State in front of 84,000 fans, University of Oklahoma student Joel Hinrichs III blew himself up outside the stadium.

There is evidence that he sought to enter the game and was turned away by security after refusing to allow his backpack to be searched. Some minutes later, that backpack, containing the chosen explosive of shoe bomber Richard Reid and the London subway bombers, exploded, killing Mr. Hinrichs as he sat on a bench.

There have been some dutiful print and broadcast accounts of this event, all leaning heavily on the favored establishment take – that this was a troubled young man who sought only to kill himself, simply doing so in an offbeat way.

Oh, really?

Well, what if the young man had a Pakistani roommate? What if he had been spending time at the Islamic Center of Norman, Okla., once frequented by "20th hijacker" Zacarias Moussaoui? What if the warrant used in the search of the bomber's apartment had been sealed by federal authorities?

What if explosives had been found in that apartment? What if the young man had tried to purchase ammonium nitrate, the chosen explosive of Tim McVeigh, at a Norman feed store days earlier?

That's a lot of what ifs, and they range from the confirmed to the unconfirmed. But the parts we do know – the Pakistani roommate, the attempted fertilizer purchase, the veil of secrecy around the investigation – should be enough to cast doubt on the simplistic "troubled young man" theory favored by, among others, OU's nervous president, David Boren.

Mr. Hinrichs' father told me his son was not the type to join radical causes and would not want to hurt anyone. But his son's chosen method – blowing himself up in a public place – would seem to cast doubt on his concern for his fellow man.

As for the terrorist angle, Mr. Hinrichs is now the subject of understandably intense scrutiny, virtually none of it from the mainstream media. You might think the story fizzled because there was, in fact, no death beyond the bomber. True enough, but I'd suggest that if a raid revealed some radical plan to bomb an abortion clinic anywhere in America, the suspects would be household names by nightfall without a single fuse lit.

Something about the nature of this event has swallowed almost whole the normal curiosity one would expect from the usual sources.

Is it political, because acknowledging a terror threat on our soil might bolster President Bush's war logic? Is it economic, out of fear of scaring people away from football games? Is it geographic snobbery because it didn't happen on either coast? Or is it a PC fear of seeming to lunge toward a jihadist angle?

Whatever the reason, hunting for details of this shocking story puts you in some offbeat company.

Jayna Davis is a writer who has spent years documenting what she asserts is an Islamic connection to the Oklahoma City bombing. She has a fan in Douglas Hagmann, director of an outfit called the Northeastern Intelligence Network, whose Web site (homelandsecurityus.com) has a conspiracy geek vibe that might spark scoffing.

But the fact of the matter is that these people are breaking fresh news on this story that only later winds up in more conventional news outlets.

I'm not calling for a leap to the conclusion that Mr. Hinrichs was another in a series of Caucasians pressed into service by terror cells for their undercover value. But it seems equally unwise to shrug dismissively at the possibility.

The Mark Davis Show is heard weekdays on News/Talk 820 WBAP and nationwide on the ABC Radio Network. WBAP airtime is 9 a.m. to noon. His column appears Wednesdays on Viewpoints, and his e-mail address is mdavis@ wbap.com.

Check out this awesome beer ad.
I think it won Ad of the Year.

RA(N)TZ

A thought occured to me that I been crunching the numbers on the past few days, applying all kinds of scenarios to see what might not apply -

Seems like it's easier to get into something than out of;
Troubles, a parking spot, cats in tree's, problems, relationships, under the sink (more effort not to bonk your head crawling out), debt, the attic, clubs.

I guess getting into a country is harder than getting out. They check for what you might be bringing in. People are like countries. They resist new people coming into their area without a sufficient (psycho-emotional) luggage and security check of their own. Some people who let anyone in over time probably get a lot troublemakers in their 'country'. People who take the time to not let them in so easily see how much attitude, fidgety-ness, or complaining comes as they wait in the security checkpoint. The guards (when doing their job well) react more favorably to people who take the time to consider the guard's job and mindset, so they have their boarding passes out and i.d. ready. Taking the time to understand what they can do to help the check-in go easier and create a sense of mutual respect.

I didn't drive in thinking I'd attempt to connect how people conduct themselves in airport security with how they react to starting a relationship with someone, but hey, that's America. Not sure what aspect of human nature this would correlate too perhaps, but watching people in their 50s react to removing their shoes at the security check (like it's some frighteningly new wrecking ball to their mental architecture) fascinates me. Or when they stand next to signs and hear the attendants screaming it to keep their boarding pass out. Yet they get up to the security check, are asked for the boarding pass, and get all mad and flustered at the guards asking them to go back down 10 leagues into their purse to get the boarding pass.

Make your life easier, wear button shirts with a breast pocket. Put your i.d. and your boarding pass there. Anywhere you need it, you reach in, pull out it out, put it back, move on. We love James Bond being prepared and smooth with all his paperwork and gadgets at the ready. Why don't we make the connection that we can do that too? Our jeans have more pockets that 007's suit for Christ's sake. God knows our lipstick, inhalers, wallets, paperback edition of 'The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People', our Tony Robbins audiobook, and gum is in the outer quick-access pocket of our shoulder bags. We chose to wear comfy loose fitting clothing for sitting in a cramped airplane. Yet 4 YEARS after 9/11, and the hundreds of thousands of flights that have occured since then, people are still gaping at their spouses in annoyed surprised bruised-ego awe as though the guard asked Grandma to pop her top when asked to put her change and keys in the busboy tub, and kick off her shoes. If everyone is so sick of the security checkout point, why then does almost everyone not tweek their own behavior one half ounce's worth to make it go smooth???

Most people have flown at least a few times. Is it so hard to take 8 seconds at your house while packing to 'Desperate Housewives' to remember the flow of operations thru an airport from your last visit, and get prepared accordingly? I guess it is when your TV spews commercials of adult-age empowered brats demanding how they want and demand their bank, coffee, eye-glasses, microwave dinner, hair conditioner, auto financing, and herpes medicine to meet THEIR terms and be THEIR way. And if you wear a scarf, red leggings and some Lisa Loeb glasses, your fashion sense must mean you're serious and deserve coddling cuz you're so hip.

This is the result folks. This is what happens when the screaming kids you saw getting the candy in the checkout lane from a Mom who wouldn't say no grow up to be consultants and branding people in advertising. They intuitively understand that playing to the entitled brat in people will work on them to sell them bad food, meaningless plastic, and shitty loan rates. "Come to our company, we'll be just like the parents who never said no. Well, until our beautiful actors with neon teeth get you in the door. Then our clerks will show you what that translucent disclaimer text at the bottom of the screen at font size -1 said. Oh and, when we run your credit report."

"But the beautiful people told me I could have it my way!"

"Yeah, maybe at Burger King sir. As long as you avoid drive-thru. NEXT!"

But anyway, the boarding pass is paper. (Remember this wave from earlier? :) You can fold it with one hand. That and your drivers license, ya put in your pocket. Easy access in, easy out. Like wearing sweatpants to your girlfriend's/boyfriend's house when you're 16 cuz the parents are gone that night.

But in regards to getting into things easier - maybe because momentum agrees with the Universe. Do even stuntmen ever really get comfortable driving a car backwards? Walking upstream always takes more out of you than walking with the current. Obviously if you need to go up river, against the current, walk along the side of the river, outside of the main flow. Less resistance.

No wonder philosophers and good artists eventually live in and study nature. The answers are right there if one watches the physical and spacial relationships. It's why somebody termed people behavior "Human Nature.


This is an ad for a song sung by a group of dolls from a cartoon I think. These dolls, called 'Bratz' are pre-teen fashion-obsessed girls, dressed like Sorostitutes-in-training who rock it out.


They actually did it. They kept the plastic element (in every aspect)), but got rid of the pesky carbon-unit human elements. It's merchandising without the actual band! Sweet. The label doesn't have to pay for insurance or hotel lodging for 5 real girls. They got the posters, dolls, music singles, videos. No pesky humans! No periods on gig nights, no long distance relationship problems, no royalty checks to the performer, no infighting among the band.

Imagine if you will, some Men-in-Black type walks among bodyguards to the ledge of the Mall's 2nd floor near the top of the escalator. A thousand teen and pre-teen girls are screaming for the Bratz. He removes 6 dolls one by one from a briefcase to the shrieking of the audience. He places them on a table (the stage) and hits the PA to play the song. The Mom's and their daughters start boogie'ing to a fake song that was sung by these inanimate plastic dolls that are "on tour" and came to this Mall, in that town, that day. So that means it's special.


Anyway, I like Yasmin. She comes with the totally awesome latex 'Fuck Me!' training heels that she can wear to Deja Vu when she works her way thru college.


A Ha! Gotcha! Yasmin won't work at the Vu to pay for college cuz DADDY'S GONNA PAY FOR IT. She's just gonna go to the Vu for amateur night on a dare from her boyfriend anyway. What's the big deal, it's only the Vu. It's like, OhmyGod, I've been to Cancun before. And I totally made out with my best friend at Todd Derris's party when the guys rooted us on to do it.

And you know what?
Daddy will pay for it.
He always does, in the end.

Welcome Back Hockey

Seems Slap Shot 3 (completing the trilogy) was filmed with hand held cameras to make it more arty and independent.

Keep watching, when you think the brawl is calming down, it gets more insane.
The New Ice Capades

Thanks University of Pheonix. The education from you is priceless. I am now fully fluent in all the curse words of the Western Hemisphere after your annoying, relentless, find-anyone-anywhere-regardless-of-the-webpage pop-up ad froze my whole computer here at work.

Obviously your curriculum does not provide classes on Psychology, Effective Work Habits, and Annoying Trends in Marketing. But obviously you do teach a class for Webdesigners on how to code pop-up ads to get around browsers with 'Block Pop-Up Ads' settings.

Do your Culinary classes teach a good Molotov cocktail?
By chance is that offered after the Shotput throwing class?

Let's share.

Being a musician, it's not funny in the slightest to be searching online for diarrhea cures the day of the first gig with your band.

I might be talking about me, or one of my bandmates.
I ain't sayin'. Oh pipe down. Have a little mystery in your life for once. Does it always have to be about you??
GEEEZus...

Hey, don't give me any flak or lip, ya little punk. I was on the The Waltons ya know.

I can be Steven Wright too

Remember learning when we were little how big blue whales would eat by swallowing tons of krill (like shrimp) in the water, and the whale filtered the krill form th water using their baleen (a filtration system kind of like a huge sieve in the mouth)?
Remember that?

You can simulate this same thing as a human. It's like when you chug a big glass of water that you stirred insoluble fiber into. Like Metamucil or psylliuym husks. Close your jaw a little and you can feel the fiber going past your teeth. I'll bet that's what it feels like for the whale.

All mine baby. Gonna teach my kids that someday.

Since I mentioned Steven Wright, I'll mention the one joke of his I remember cuz I liked it so much.

" I like to stand in the running shower with my clothes on, and stop the drain so the water fills at my feet, and play Sinking Submarine."





I think Krill and Krokus did a Kareoke duet for the Krull soundtrack back in the day.

Oh I just krill myself.


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NEWS ALERT
Thanks to Jan on this.

Talk about wagging the dog.
Notice the dates of these articles.

Read this one first.
Onion.com - Feb, 2004

CNN Money page - Sept 2005


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The Japanese mafia used a Soviet weather weapon to send the hurricanes at the US to piss off Bush.


No, really.

fun with werds

Steve B was talking about Black Sabbath from his cube.
He mentioned the song "Fairies Wear Boots"

I misheard and asked "Tollbooth Fairy?"

Then decided my hobo hitchhiker name would be "Turnpike Barry."


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HEY

I'm finally playing a gig with my weekend warrior cover band I been practicing with all summer.

This Friday, September 30
830pm
South Lyon Hotel
South Lyon, MI
Upstairs.

Use GoogleMaps to find directions.
Copy past this into the search field:
south lyon hotel, south lyon, mi

It should bring it up for you right good.

I Need a Bib... For Tuna.

That's it.

THAT'S A WRAP

When I make my own 'Super-Size Me" documentary, I'm gonna live on Taco Bell Meximelts and McDonald's breakfast burritos. Because I could.

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PLEASE GOD NO

Seeing a certain CD sent meoff on a phase of Sammy Hagar -->investigating Montrose for the first time--> Van Halen. I been jamming 2 of my fav VH songs, 'Secrets' from Diver Down and 'Me Wise Magic' from the '96 Best Of. Then of course, my ear wanted the balls and brash of For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge. (Which btw, was Sammy's "gel" record. That album was truly when the natural 'isms' of VH and Sammy finally blended and 'VanHagar' actually birthed itself. Every song on there can be traced to a Roth-era song composition-wise, but Sammy's vocals are pure Sammy in tone, spirit, and character.)

Aaaaanyway... so I'm coming into work with 'Poundcake'just pummeling the air with Alex's punchy, big room sound, brashy drums. (His bass drum on this album sounds like a wrecking ball was wrapped in velvet and when he hits a cymbal with it, it's sounds like said ball was swung through a wall made up of two pieces of drywall with about 30 sheets of glass between them. Imagine that visual and sound and turn up the subwoofer of your brain.

So the tune's ending and I cut off the CD to catch Drew and Mike's Trudy News and their talking about that Rockstar INXS show where they had a kareoke contest to replace Michael Hutchence. Then Drew says he heard that there's been rumor that this show might do another season with VAN HALEN finding a singer this way!

Now... [tense, constrained, sigh]...let me say something here.

(Right now by the way, every good friend of mine is feeling a disturbance in their Buddy Force. Something is making them very afraid, they know a seismic disturbance is occuring somewhere, like when Ben felt Alderaan explode. My really good friends, like Ruz who's currently flying back from his tour of duty in Iraq is sensing that something's wrong with Dave. His body is tensing up because he knows somewhere a Dave Van Halen rant is start to rumble the volcano's mountain.)

So I'll try to spare some carnage here. Touch up the levee's. Sandbag the outer bunker. Have the National Guard at ground zero before the riots start. I'll radio the Blue Angels for a flyby after they buzz the stadium when the national anthem finishes at whatever ballpark they got hired for. And we all know it ain't gonna happen.

I have the internet on my side. I will find out where this Rockstar show is and pull own personal Hedwig and yank the microphone cord out of these singer's mic's if this goes down. I will torch 5150 studios. (I'll look around first since I always wanted to visit that).

I said it once, I said it billion f*ckig times in the kitchen and backyards of various parties since 1999. If this band wants to have any chance of getting something done in a good way, they need to get Gary Cherone back.

Yes yes yes....I f*cking know. We all wish Dave would come back. He tried. Twice. Sammy took the high road and made first contact with Al, had lunch, bam we had a tour in 2004. Sammy got burned by that. Eddie and Al have problems. It's as simple as that. Gary was an intellectual and had a calming, inspiring influence on Eddie. Eddie let himself be himself, without being a wastoid with booze as his crutch (which reports seem to be saying he's back to.)

That album with Gary should perhaps have been an Eddie solo album, perhaps not put out as "Van Halen". To help get that unit gel'd. (It takes two years to become a really good band. Or drumline. Or any performance unit. I've taught, I've studied. Trust me.) The tour was amazing, Gary worked that crowd up like no one had seen in years. he learned what worked with that audience and what didn't. The work on the next album was coming along great, the tunes were more cars and women than political machinations and the like. Gary figured out the conciousness of the room he was to be speaking to. It was gonna be great. Shit, he was even growing his rock hair back out.

I'm tellin ya. At that time in the mid-90s, there was a synchronicity between what Gary brought to the table and where the VH nucleus was musically and maturity-wise. Gary understood the history of that band's musical output better than the band. He understood it as a fan, and as an accomplished performer and singer himself. It wasn't Eddie who decided to pull out 'Jamie's Cryin' and 'I'm the One', Mean Streets, Unchained, Romeo's Delight. It was f*cking Gary!

Gary's presence and influence got that band to accept and engage their past for all the glory it was, and at the same time allow the band to be as creative as they had always wanted to be. Eddie's an insecure kid who's voice is what he gets out of that guitar, Al's the big brother who protects him and makes the decisions, business and overall band aesthetic. (Remember, it was Al and Roth who were always conflicting over the band's focus, purpose, and presentation.) Michael lays back and lays it down. Gary was the brains and the rock of Al and Eddie combined. They could play smart and bring the boogie-woogie. They could satisfy the intellectual side while also not feeling like dinosaurs revisiting the gems that put them on the map. Every band grows tired of their early material and sees playing it again as backpedaling until enough time and distance pass and someone or something very real to them happens which puts a new perspective on how good that work really was.

There's arguments that VH should stick with the early stuff.
Well padre, how about you quit your job and go back to first job of washing dishes or waiting tables. You de-volve back too. Get back to "keepin' real". That's a nice mindset to have towards these guys. Hey Eddie, Hey Hetfield, leave your wife and house to pollute your body and insult your intelligence with a lifestyle that you already learned fucks your music up anyway. Yeah. Go back to being an angry self-destructing fuckup so I, Joe Dumb Fan, can get my money's worth when I escape my shitty directionless life for one night going to your show. Because I, your "fan", have musical consumer rights to your career and life, and wants you this of you because it makes me more comfortable with your output.

Years ago I clipped out a news item for my cube wall where a bunch of Aerosmith fans started a petition asking Aerosmith to be please get back on drugs. Because they hadn't written a decent riff since the drug days. It was funny in a way, but it's like the above mentality. I wonder if the fans would, in exchange, cover the housing, medical, counsleing costs for the band's children and families who would reap the benefit of this kind of action. Hey as long as the riff's are there, screw little Jenny having a chance at -not- becoming a stripping coke-whore because Dad was a distanst violent wastoid. It's about the music man. It's gotta be.



- Dave deserted the fans who for some reason still support him most.
- Sammy gave us 11 years (those shows were packed) till the brothers got stupid.
- Gary tried his best, took the jabs, and gave fans more of what Dave could not (great live vocals) or Sammy would not (classic material).

Yes I wish Dave would come back and they all got their personal shit together.
Yes I wish Sammy could do the same, but he tried, and it blew up in his face again.
I was there in 2004. Sammy's a pro and delivered a great show. But he'll never fully trust Eddie again. And that affects things. Even when it's not musically-based, that kind of protected holding back affects a band's vibe and output. LIve and recorded. The truth just sounds different, always. Truth is, Sammy won't ever truly rely on VH again.

But if anyone should come back now, per the history and circumstances, it should be Gary. With Gary they would actually be a Band.

Or we can get Sebastian Bach.
Or how' bout Rob Thomas?
Clay Aiken?
Fred Durst?
Melissa Etheridge?
Rob Zombie"
the guy from Nickelback?
Scott from Creed?

I know! How about some arm and neck tattoo'd skateboard guy with the bullring in his nose? That would be some cred.

How about Ricky Martin?
Andre Dice Clay?
Corpse of Bob Hope?
Lil Bow Wow?
Pavarotti!
Oak Ridge Boys?
Stephen Hawking.
Foreigner!
Ralph Nader?
Twiggy the model?
Bernie Mac!
Gonzo the muppet!!
Sean Hannity?
Jay.
Big Boy
Dennis Rodman?
Neil Sedaka!
Owen Wilson.


Yeah, I guess you're right. Any of these clowns would be a much better fit than Gary, who did the job, can do the job, and would do a great job, for all the right reasons.

Well, I guess we'll just have to keep going to Aerosmith then.
"Week-ick-ick-ick YOW!"

BREAKING NEWS

Today is 'Talk like a Pirate' Day

talklikeapirateday.com



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At some point, we all become "that asshole" on the highway.

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WE DO KNOW JACK

Joy got a dog this past weekend, Jack.



He's a very good boy. Rottweiller and we're thinking maybe Doberman. He's like a Rott on the Hollywood no-carb diet. Very strong, very fun and playful. He and his buddy were given to the rescue in Howell per a nasty divorce, where the husband got everything and the wife gave the dogs up to (hopefully) a good home rather than let the ex-hubbie keep them and most likely not care for them well. Every loss is a gain somewhere else. So Joy wanted a big dog as loveable as Max the other Rott she dogsits for her brother sometimes. Finding as good a dog as Max is near impossible, but Jack is a good candidate. When he mellows a bit and gets used to his new Ma and Pa, he's gonna be just fine.

And he's barked only twice since we got him; once when Brendan tried the "Speak!" (for a treat) trick, and once when he "BOOF!"-ed at some people who walked a little close to the house this weekend. We were worried his protective instincts might be a tad on the Lebowski Dude side (the rescue said he acted like "didn't have a care in the world." They were right.)

He's strong. You could ski down the sidwalk behind him with no wheels if you're light enough.

Everyone says their huge menacing violent looking big dog is a big teddy bear. This guy is. But if you ask to shake, his RoboRott legs are like junior baseball bats. He brings it up and brings it down and your arm goes dee-OWn. He honestly doesn't know his own strength. He's like a cute small dog reincarnatd into a big dog. I wish we had some pics of him of our own, cuz he's a smiley dog. These pics of him from the rescue make him look a little serious.


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ME WUVS HALEN

From an email of mine to Ruz who's serving in Iraq, and my all-time best VH drinking buddy. Old men sit in the driveay in their lawn chairs talking about sports and the war, Ruz and I will be cheerleading about Van Halen over our egg-beaters and juice at Ram's Horn when we're 80.

Me Wise Magic might be my all-time favorite VH song dude.
I think it may just be their finest moment. The tune they pick to put on the Voyager probe so the aliens can hear choice tunes from EarthRock.

In one tune it just about encompasses every 'ism' of each guy, every crystallized value of their playing and personae that I have always loved and appreciated, from every stage of their musical development that I hold dear about VH. It houses the absolute blow your wad on the mountaintop rock glory of the younger years with the taste, chops, and matured musicality that they got over 30 years of jamming. I am muscially in love with that song, and the band for it.

I say it again, this song, as a composition, guitar solo and all, could be submitted as a music school jury piece.

This tune is almost 10 years old dude. Every note is perfect and genius, even when it's a wag.

God I wish those 4 could get it together and get Glenn Ballard to corral that energy again. Ballard got it down to tape. He gets a performance out of a band that leans precariously over the cliff edge of what even they think they can deliver, so the emotion runs at the scared yet confident edge. Then he puts a sheen on it so it sounds closer to glory than it does a near-casualty.

[I will be coming back 'round on this topic with my doctorate on why Me Wise Magic is so good. A detailed inventory and review of this song's composition. Stay tuned Rock Dawgs. but if you wanna start, early just listen to it first and only follow the guitar. Like if you had to learn to play it. Listen to the rhythm chords unerneath the chorus. Star with Eddie's part. Everything he is is in that guitar part, then and now. Trust me, I've logged the hours and miles. This song is their time capsule/lightning in a bottle.]

That Dave Mathews Everyday album is same way.
I go to the wall for that one too, even though everyone says its the corporate record. Bullsh*t.
Ballard wrung the absolute last drops of musical beauty out of that band on that one. He got the brush, twigs and branches out of the way so the ear could "see" and hear the tree. That beauty was always (and is always) there with DMB, and Ballard grabbed the essential elements and brought them forefront for the ear to hear immediately.

Shit, I'm a drummer, but even I want a perfect chord change rather than some hi-hat roll trick. Carter can bitch all he wants in hindsight about how much Ballard didn't let him play alot on that album. Well, sulk in the mansion Carter, cuz I remember reading the Rolling Stone in the magazine aisle of the Ypsilanti Meijer's hen Everyday came out, reading your words that you said about how much you loved that Ballard's guidance (albeit uncomfortable at first) really helped you mellow and let the song breathe better and be expressed more powerfully. Reminds me of Chris Squire of Yes heaping praise all over Trevor Rabin at the 1994 release party for the 'Talk' album. Then the band split, Squire started up the retro-classic Yes with Howe back in and just shit-talked all over Rabin. Hey Squire you pretentious British Bass F*ck, Rabin kept your yacht payments in good standing in the 80s. If you're gonna complain, go after the wardrobe person for the 90125 tour.
Shithead.

Lothar of the Bass People.


Now we know where Patrick "Wah" Roy got the idea for those psych-you-out goalie knee pads.


River Yes Dance!


I love ya Chris, and I always turn up the 'Roundabout', but not Geddy, Mark King, Billy Sheehan, or Bootsy has yet been knighted for bass playing and granted a castle of their own. I love seein' the hustle out there on stage, and the upper class British dignity you carry your head high with being a rock bassists is impressive. But it's a piece of wood that goes "BRONG!" and "Baownk ba-Daonk Baownk". I'm sure Arthur woud no doubt have made you the Round Table's designated minstrel representative. But you try leading some 3rd Crusade into the Middle East with just that mighty Rickenbacker, and Ltn. Commander Tony [call-sign:} "Bruce" Lee is gonna end that desert plain bass solo for Humanity's Love with a daisy cutter right up the back of that trenchcoat. 'Owner of Some Lonely Parts' I'm thinking...




Wai'...whut were we talkin' about?





Oh Yeah!, so we go this dog named Jack.


He's a very good boy. Rottweiller and we're thinking maybe Doberman. He's like a Rott on the Hollywood no-carb diet. Very strong, very fun and playful. He and his buddy were given to the rescue in Howell per a nasty divorce, where the husband got everything and the wife gave the dogs up to (hopefully) a good home rather than let the ex-hubbie keep them and most likely not care for them well. Every loss is a gain somewhere else. So Joy wanted a big dog as loveable as Max the other Rott she dogsits for her brother sometimes. Finding as good a dog as Max is near impossible, but Jack is a good candidate. When he mellows a bit and gets used to his new Ma and Pa, he's gonna be just fine.

And he's barked only twice since we got him; once when Brendan tried the "Speak!" (for a treat) trick, and once when he "BOOF!"-ed at some people who walked a little close to the house this weekend. We were worried his protective instincts might be a tad on the Lebowski Dude side (the rescue said he acted like "didn't have a care in the world." They were right.)

He's strong. You could ski down the sidwalk behind him with no wheels if you're light enough.

Everyone says their huge menacing violent looking big dog is a big teddy bear. This guy is. But if you ask to shake, his RoboRott legs are like junior baseball bats. He brings it up and brings it down and your arm goes dee-OWn. He honestly doesn't know his own strength. He's like a cute small dog reincarnatd into a big dog. I wish we had some pics of him of our own, cuz he's a smiley dog. These pics of him from the rescue make him look a little serious.


Such a good boy.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go get rid of the automatic spam that someone sicked on this blog's comments section.

Oh, I forgot...
I did go see Umphrey's McGee, and they were spectacular again.

Yooou must learn the ways of the Force, if you're to come with me to Umphreylderann..."



Umphrey's play so good I feel like a little girl when I see them.



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'ATCHOO HAIKU:

Chase chicken like Rocky
Catch fry like Miyagi
Catch grasshopper by hopping in grass too
Here ends 'Atchhoo Haiku.




Thaaaat's right...IIIII'm Abe Froman...

INVESTING FOR YOUR RETIREMENT:

If you had purchased $1000.00 of Nortel stock one year ago, it would now be worth
$49.00.

With Enron, you would have had $16.50 left of the original $1,000.00.

With WorldCom, you would have had less than $5.00 left.

But, if you had purchased $1,000.00 worth of Beer one year ago, drank all the beer, then turned in the cans for the aluminum recycling REFUND,
you would have had
$214.00.

Based on the above, current investment advice is to drink heavily and recycle. It's called the 401-Keg Plan.

p.s. I swear to you (all 5-6 fans of this blog) I got some good stuff comin'. Just haven't had a good chunk of time to go to town on it.

its been awhile

Sorry about that.

Check out this neat thing:
Aerial/Satellite view of New Orleans in sectors. You can see the whole city, and where the water is and isn't. Click on a section of town and keep zooming in. Brown areas are dry, green-looking areas are where the water is.

School's In

The Apocalypse has officially begun loading its tanks and armies on to the transports...

U.K. schools allowing kids to swear in class.

I really try to sail the middle of the channel politically, I'm blessed with fiercely intelligent friends who provide me great views of the shores from each side of the boat.

But this is some seriously f*cked up liberal touchy-feely bullshit. More of that 'esteem-based' Dewey New Education crap where not letting the kids get their feelings hurt or feel bad for anything they do (like get 2+2 wrong or, uh, tell the teacher to fuck off) is so frowned upon because these over-striving "super" parents want to be their kid's best friends, rather than a square un-cool parent (who compassionately disciplines the kid so they don't screw their life and the world up later.) So these "parents" put this "bike helmet of life" perimeter of buffer around their kid in everything they do. No hurt feelings, no unfulfilled desires, no failure, no learning to cope with NOT getting everything junior wants. Psychologically, not only is Mom wheeling the grocery cart out to the mini-va...sorry, SUV, but she's also wheeling the entire candy rack from the checkout lane with her too.

There's no time to let junior scream and learn life ain't always about him, Mom's late for her weekly berating of the soccer coach for not putting junior at center. Cuz he's obviously the most talented kid out there. When he's not picking his nose due to his nervous tick from being obsessively postured by his SuperMom. But not to worry, Dad will distract the crowd from the nose-picking with a good right hook to the coach anyway. Dan Sheckling, regional manager of the Northwest territory, Quadrant 3F, Clark county division of United Fruit Warehouse District 8 didn't spend his school years slamming skinny freshman into lockers so he could grow up to have a 4th string defenseman embarrass his sperm's family name on the soccer field.

I channel the spectre of Carlin for this one:
"Children are not all special, they're just like adults: a few winners, and a whoooole lot of losers."

A bit generalized, but you get the idea.

Happy Wednesday.

Some Things Protect Themselves By Being What (or Who) They Are.

At first I thought "In his mind, in 1984 this would have been the result of hitting the 'Ultimate Career Nightmare' button in the time machine." And in my mind too.

Then I remembered something very important:
I'm talking about David Lee Roth.
There's a completely different set of rules and premises at work here.

This is probably EXACTLY what that clown was hoping to be doing in 2004 on that day of all days. And God bless for him loving every stinkin' second of it. Talk about not givin' a shit. He's SUPPOSED to be pulling off stuff like this. He wouldn't be David Lee Roth if he wasn't.

You think I'm gonna give it up here? No you gotta go do the legwork pal.
Wait for it...

'Jump' and 'California Girls'

Stick with me kid, and you'll be fartin' through silk

From the illustrious Joe Rickle, Downriver Michigan's Ambassador of Comedy.

"Dave:

I was stuck in some of the exiting cruise traffic on Saturday, and low and behold, the frickin A-team van was next to me. The personalized license plate was the best part…”PTYDAFU”.

-Rickle"

So which Big 3 company, oil company, or government office will foot the bill for the goon squad to take out this guy with the 'Preston Tucker Treatment'?

Tinkerers fiddle with hybrids to increase efficiency. Getting 250 mpg.


Too many families here making too much money off generations of gas guzzling car sales. Mass transit and less reliance on cars means less car sales. Henry Ford the 17th's trust fund goes bye-bye when efficient innovation threatens the money spring of the Old Guard and their models.

Follow the money.

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By the way some piece of sh*t decided to set the auto-spam machine on and post "comments" to this blog that are just ads. sorry for this. If you see comments "removed by administrator", that's me cleaning out spam.

Everday with this crap happening, I'm understanding more why the Kaczynski's of the world go live off the grid in a cabin. I'd just talkto the birds and critters instead of building bombs though. Well.. playing with m-80s would be fun. But I wouldn't be leaving them in people's mialboxes. I'd just blow stuff up out in the woods. Like the outhouse. THAT would be fun. But then the spread-out poop would make the area attract bears who'd eat my food. Not good because off the grid I'd have no electricity for the motion-sensor alarm. But I could befriend the bear, name him Ben II. Or maybe 'Ben Too'? I do have a favorite flannel I like to wear, and I've been told facial hair is becoming on me. I do like Doc Marten boots too. And I recently came to appreciate the greatness of suspenders with the suit I bought for a wedding years ago.

Ya know, this whole Grizzly Adams thing (as you can see) is making alot of sense and speaking to me. It's all coming together without me trying.

Then when I'm bored I head into town and while saying hi to the folks on the main drag, learn of some petty crisis from old Maude who lives on the hill that can become that week's adventure for me and Ben Too. (See how that name works so well already??")

But I need a name...something the townfolk will remember well.

"Grizzly Adams"...

"Grumpy Below"?
"Uncle Dave"?
"Bear Guy"?
"Mr. Gave Up"?
"Un-Unabomber"?
"Glorified Igor"?
"Mountain Adventure Guy with Crazy Bear Friend"?

I need to work on this some more.
And I need to find someone who works at the zoo so I can steal, er, I mean free a bear cub I can raise to be my sidekick. Teach him to drink with me like the Molson commercials bear. And communicate too. So he can go into town without me to buy more beer.

Clancy the General Store manager: "Well hello B.T.!"
B.T. (Bear Too): "KBWAARLL"
Clancy: "Another case?
B.T.: "BWAAARL"
Clancy [setting case on counter]: "Is he on another bender again?"
B.T.: "HRAAAAL! REMF RemF..."
Clancy [ringing up case]: "Ya now B.T. you need to stop supporting this behavior in him. It's not doing him or you any good. That'll be...oh why do I even ask. You always show me you have no pockets anyway for money, you're a bear."
B.T.: "GRAWL! FRIMF FRIMF! HARG HARG Pft BLARRGHH!:
Clancy: Save it B, you always use that excuse. I'll just charge this to the birthday party tab. You're still coming to little Jessie's party so the kids can ride and play with you.
B.T.: "BLAAAAAARL!
Clancy: YES, you will wear the party hat!
B.T.: "BLAAAAARL!"
Clancy: YES You WILL. You still want this case of Grolsch???
B.T.: "PMMff..."
Clancy: "That's what I thought."

[clancy rings up beer. Sheepishly looks at B.T.]

Clancy: "Aw, I'm sorry B. You know I'm your friend. I just care about you two up there,that's all."
B.T.: "mmmMMMRRmmmhimpf..."
Clancy: 'C'mere and give ol' Clance a hug."

B.T.: "HRIMF HRIMF Bla -"
Clancy: "YES B, I get the irony here."

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Check out this sweet World Record Bike Jump

cool

Vintage Michigan website.
Find pics of all the drive-in's in Michigan from backwhen.
http://www.waterwinterwonderland.com

Beetlejuice will be performing at the Crazy Leprechaun in Philly.

I heard that on Howard Stern this morning. What a great group of words.


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So this big chemical plant blew up in Wayne, Michigan last night. The band I play in, our guitarist Craig is "Chopper Craig" of the Channel 7 news helicopter. So we get finished playing some tune at rehearsal, his cell goes off, he exclaims "Holy Shit..." and immediately has to go. At first he thought it was an airplane crash at Metro, "some huge explosion by Metro". So we call scramble to help him get his gear in his car because he has to get down the road to get in the news chopper to fly over this thing and pilot/shoot images for the aerial coverage. That's what he does. and traffic reports. And play a mean guitar.

So it was kind of weird and neat to finish practice, get home, turn on the 11pm news to see the chopper view of this giant inferno, and hearing my guitarists voice in this very professional newscast voice relaying what was goin on down there.

Especially since an hour and a half earlier, we were all busting a gut at practice listening to our about-to-retire-from-his-dayjob saxophone player make fun of his sex life in hilariously graphic terms. And Craig was taking the lead in furthering the roasting.

By the way, Craig has a cute little white terrier named Mollie who comes to practice and flies with him a lot. She chases plastic water bottle caps around the slippery floor of our practice space. It's like a real-life Flintstones watching her feet spin in place and she doesn't move.


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"Don't put it in your notes , put it in your life" --Mr. Dunn

Just just, ok?


* Problems, like the Earth, are spherical in shape; If you run from them in the opposite direction, you'll eventually come right back around to 'em, but the real long way.


* When you begin to remember a moment's beginning, that moment is soon to end.



* There's always someone you love who worships a band you hate. And vice versa.


* "Life finds a way."
--Jeff Goldblum in Jurassic Park.

It's true.



* If every piece of matter is made up of little atoms with protons and electrons and neutrons all orbiting around a nucleus... and beings and life forms are built up of layer upon layer of more organs made up of millions of more atoms all containing this orbiting circular rotating energy...and the matter in the whole universe is based on this, doesn't it seem to make sense that "what comes round goes around" really does happen since the smallest particles of everything that exist come around and go around in the deepest fabric of their matter? Combine this reasoning with statement #1 above of this posting and it makes sense why we have a new boy band fad every 10 years, there's still marriages where people stay with people who abuse them, and that no matter what year or cast, Saturday Night Live always "sucks" till you watch reruns of said "suck" period 8 years later on Comedy Central and rave about the glory days.


* Let yourself accept that you love Journey.


* Beer tastes different and better when you drink on a boat/on water. Personally i think it's because we're so much water in our physiological makeup, so when we're on water, there's this sub-level molecular thing going on where your surroundings at such a moment are biologically more in harmony than usual. Lake -- person made up of 60%-ish water -- liquid beverage. Your sensitivity thresholds are screaming because you're in the homeland. Or it's because you're enjoying a beer without someone's fart fumes or cigarette stench fighting for your tastebud's and olfactories attention.


* The secret to life is 44% lettuce. (I'll come back to this someday.)


* Joe Walsh could play a guitar solo tomorrow so powerful, soulful, and inspiring that resurrects Jesus, Elvis, Princess Diana, Martin Luther King, and every innocent child who was ever murdered, and people would still have nothing to say of Joe when his name is brought up besides how much of a bafooned, lush, drug casualty he is.


* They know how addicting and good Cinnamon Life cereal is... that's why it's on sale only once a year.


* Listen to Sun Ra on headphones when you go for a summer night time walk.


* Next time the overhead music in the store is annoying you, imagine how weird it would be if there was no music. If you can't imagine it, go to a dollar store. You'll see.


* Tell Grandpa you love him. Even if he's "not like that" cuz' he comes from a different era.


* Kosmo's Deli in Ann Arbor's Kerrytown is a special place. The food, staff, and operation is clean, cheerful, and with love.


* Strange and wonderful dreams if you take a multi-vitamin at bedtime.

The Sex Issue!

(All items are about sex.)


These two deserve all the misery they get having to endure being together to fulfill the contracts they signed in the first place.

[Imagine I spelled 'twats' in a way that made it pronounced like 'brats'. Thanks]

Sexy Because: Paris Hilton is only "important" because the only thing she can do is look sexy.


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Berlin readies giant brothel for 2006 World Cup
No, really.


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Don't know how much this relates to the Sex Issue this edition is supposed to be, but on my headphones is INXS's 'The Stairs', my favorite tune of theirs. Which makes me think of that horrible Rock Star show the band is doing with "host" Dave Navarro to find Hutchence's replacement. Saw 10 minutes of an episode the other week.

Just when I think today's wanna-be's can't get any more irritatingly striving/posturing/over-hyping their own lameness, some producer comes up with an idea for a show that proves me wrong.

Especially vomit-worthy is watching the 'O' and rock faces the other contestants put on fakely when the camera is on them sidestage as they "root on" their competitors singing on stage. Especially that black mohawk dude, he's ridiculous. I didn't know the Mad Max people actually rejected people trying out for "Mutant-Extra".

These idiots need to kneel on the ground and hold between their out-stretched arms one of those over-sized turbo slingshots you launch water ballons with so I can stretch the middle pouch back 30 feet, put a brick in it, and let go.

Lou Ferrigno needs to pick Dave Navarro up by his nipples and throw him through a very thick restaurant front window. Maybe he'll put a shirt on then. I think of my friends who really were behind the Jane's back in the day and must cringe at this great guitarist now.

Sexy Because: Navarro would probably think it was sexy-violent-cool to be thrown out a window by The Hulk. He'd get up, brush the glass shards out of his fur coat and start slowly frenching Lou while Carmen videotapes it for his next video.


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GPS surveillance of sex offenders.


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I'm tired, so I'll end with saying I watched the movie 'Be Cool', the sequel to 'Get Shorty'. Sonnenfield did not direct it and it's apparent. But if you watch "Get Shorty" sometime, watching "Be Cool" is a neat novelty rental since the whole Chili Palmer thing is in your short term memory. Vince Vaughan is pretty funny, and of all people, The Rock is actually quite a good actor in this one.

Anyway, there's a dancing scene between Travolta and Uma Thurman in 'Be Cool' that is actually quite sexy. Like "this probably ruffled their significant other's feathers a bit cuz damn! they look like they really wanna do it to each other afterwards" sexy.

I thought.

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For you techies out there, check out this article about how potential future DVD copyright encryption for hi-def DVD's could really screw the consumer when hackers mess with it.

This kind of thing is making me understand alot earlier in life why Grandma and Grandpa wouldn't keep upgrading their home entertainment stuff.

Be My Taco Bell Bitch yo.

Ya know how like every 4-6 years a new Taco Bell item makes it to your stomach's VIP room? Something that just works for you and becomes the default item for the while?

I was a burrito supreme man in the late 80s. Since the Meximelt hit around that time, it's now a default item,the supreme a treat every 5 years. I could live on Meximelts if they didn't kill me. Early to mid 90s the 7-layer burritto became my main gun, with a Meximelt. But a few too many times of the rice in it being overcooked and crunchy turned me off. I drifted for awhile on meximelts and new gimmicks till the Double Decker Supreme came to town in the early 'oughts. Been on that ever since. Its the best of both worlds - you get some crunch with your folded-differently 'burrito', or, your 'taco' doesn't shatter onto the tray and paper after bite 1.

Bekkala got me now hooked on the spicy chicken burritto. It's my new 'TBell bitch'.
Buck 29 and oh so fine.

Listen I'm not joking...this [blog's] my job!

Remember the Cronin

That REO Speedwagon ballad from 1985, "Can't Fight This Feeling";

That song works.

It works because:
1. The song, as a composition, is there.
2. It's pure REO. Really.

Next time you're sitting in the Allergist's office listening to soft-rock radio waiting out your 15 minutes after your allergy shot (to make sure you don't have a funny reaction before you leave) and it comes on, fold your hands, put down the 3 week old PEOPLE magazine and really listen to it. It's got it.

I always felt this, but this morning I understood why.

If you could speed up the song from ballad tempo to mid tempo, you'll see that it's total REO. Kevin Cronin's vocals, from melody choices, to his little inflection hops he does are all there, just slowed down. If the 1985 synth piano was removed from the intro & outro and it was just acoustic piano, and the drums weren't overly processed, you'd hear this song being as classic as the other REO we all know and love. Huge chorus, Mt. Olympus guitar solo perfectly melded in, song decontructs going out the same way it constructed coming in, Cronin's syncopated vocal melodies where the the last word of the verse dips back down to the same note each line, it's there man.

Forget his smiley cheesy face in the video laying down the vocals, that glossy spittle on his lips making you wanna hit him. Hear the song, and Remember the Cronin who was 80 pounds selling out arenas in the late 70s, hammering that piano with the air raid siren keyboard announcing "Riding The Storm Out", the REO that Dr. Johnny Fever on WKRP in Cincinnatti was always selling tickets to on the air. THAT REO. Cronin with the giant spaceballs Dark Helmet rock hair.

Not today's Cronin imagine (though they still bring it live)


THIS Cronin



I've been jamming "Roll with The Changes" alot lately because it rocks, and because the cover band I'm in might play it. I borrowed a friend's Live Aid DVD and watched REO at the Philly show recently. I've had musical REO DNA in my system lately, believe you me. Now granted, I really liked the ballad back in the day. I was 14, and a big power ballad with real drum fills in it just did it for ya in the 80s, regardless of your gender. (Sorry 90s kids, we had men singing the ballads we slow-danced to in the gym back then, not Mariah squeal-shattering glasses singing about chumps with Booty ADD).

But I'm tellin ya, 'Can't fight This Feeling' is old school REO if you really listen to the components. Its akin to all of their classics, just wound down about 12 beats-per-minute, with some mid 80s production spritz. (Spritz was big in the 80s ya know.) But the notes man, the notes are there.

Go ahead make fun of me. You're just in denial. It's okay. I understand. Really.

Just remember the only air raid siren you'll hear anywhere near Coldplay is the one the network uses as a hype sound effect edited into the pre-game post-season rally-up breakdown halftime report montage (using 'Speed of Sound' as the music) that makes men who put leather balls in holes and other special places seem like important Delta Squad Halo Terminator Globetrotter Ninjas-On-Fire Starship Trooper Dicks saving the planet and humanity thru...a game.

RantOff.

P.s My Bro Brendan saw REO play in Vegas a few months ago on the roof of Ceasar's, in town for a major covention, all the convention companies had parties with music acts. Said REO anniolated the place.

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In other news, my Carlin desk calendar today is great:

I've always wanted to place a personal ad no one would answer: "Elderly, depressed, accident-prone junkie, likes Canadian food and Welsh music, seeking rich, well-built, oversexed, female deaf mute in her late teens, Must be non-smoker."

Sunday Funnies

From the Washington Post Style Invitation, in which it was
postulated that English should have male and female nouns, and
readers were asked to assign a gender to nouns of their choice
and explain their reason.

The best submissions: ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SWISS ARMY KNIFE -- male, because even though it appears useful
for a wide variety of work, it spends most of its time just
opening bottles.

KIDNEYS -- female, because they always go to the bathroom in
pairs.

TIRE -- male, because it goes bald and often is over-inflated.

HOT AIR BALLOON: male, because to get it to go anywhere you have
to light a fire under it... and, of course, there's the hot air
part.

SPONGES -- female, because they are soft and squeezable and
retain water.

WEB PAGE -- female, because it is always getting hit on.

SHOE -- male, because it is usually unpolished, with its tongue
hanging out.

COPIER -- female, because once turned off, it takes a while to
warm up. Because it is an effective reproductive device when the
right buttons are pushed. Because it can wreak havoc when the
wrong buttons are pushed.

ZIPLOC BAGS -- male, because they hold everything in, but you can
always see right through them.

SUBWAY -- male, because it uses the same old lines to pick people
up.

HOURGLASS -- female, because over time, the weight shifts to the
bottom

HAMMER -- male, because it hasn't evolved much over the last 5000
years but it's handy to have around.

REMOTE CONTROL -- female...Ha!...you thought I'd say male. But
consider, it gives man pleasure, he'd be lost without it, and
while he doesn't always know the right buttons to push, he keeps
trying.

Genius

So over late night snack at Red Robin, Joy and I see reruns on the TV's of the All-Star game pre-game fun day at Detroit's Comerica Park. Billy Bob Thornton is interviewed on the sideline, he's there to wear a Bad News Bears cap and promote the remake movie he's in by just being there as a celebrity wearing his BNB cap.

I almost lose my mouthful of food onto the floor from a creeper laughter that wells within me as I think on Joy's spontaneous, earnest, pure comment about Billy Bob, a comment I think may well perfectly summarize the world's collective shared feelings about Billy Bob, yet has never been pinned to Earth with accurate words:

Joy: [in tired empathetic sincere voice] "Ya know, I wish that Billy Bob Thornton would just relax into being the dirty old man that he really is, and then we could all relax too and celebrate with him."

This NASA site has actual footage from when they shot that probe into that asteroid the other day. Almost looks like bad b-movie sci-fi.

Sucks that this isn't bigger more significant news. I mean, we bulls-eyed a moving asteroid and have actual video.

Oh wait, now I remember why...humanity is too busy trying to stop it's own evolution with terrorist bombs and goddamn cross burnings in my hometown

Yes, Goddamn. As in I indeed say God should damn these f#cking idiots.

Hey let go of my air!

Man Charged With Stealing Wi-Fi Signal

Ironically enough, while blogging this item, I'm listening to the song 'Stealin' by Uriah Heep.

A beautiful thing for music fans.

Don't know if you saw the LIve 8 footage (check AOL's music page for streaming reruns of it), but as someone who has listened to a load of Floyd (not nearly as much as you Zac J I admit), I could not get over the absolute complete power of the whole sound with Waters playing the bass lines. You'd think it would be boring as hell hearing the same old tunes again (and just getting off on the reunion aspect), but those tunes sounded amazing. Waters feel on bass was just wonderful. New life into those tunes.

One of those pure diamond unqiue chemistry things. The natural beautiful combination of those 4 guys and how they feel it together is un-equalled. Waters has a slight tug to his bass lines...not so much playing behind the beat, but a gravitational tug where you hear his note a nano-second after the pulse. Its in time, but you hear that bass line and Gilmour's guitar equally. Sonically...Gilmour's lead line is the front guy in the bobsled and Roger is smashed right up behind him with his sonic arms wrapped around Dave's waist, but he's still behind him physcially. Nick the drummer is behind Roger but in the middle centering the weight, acting as anchor, but its acting, not being. He's moving around here and there playing off the other guy's shifting weight ,and Rick the keyboardist is holding onto Nick nice and snug, head down, but kind of yelling for dear life under his breath. You can hear him, but you can ignore it if you want. But if he got quiet, you'd know something was wrong.

Team Floyd be competing at the next winter Olympics by the way.

Laugh all you want at the silliness, Mr. Rooted-for-the-Jamaican-bobsled-team-as-a-Joke.
Eh? EH!?

Rainy Midnight Drive Home

Perhaps the reason a song becomes popular, or referred to as "great" in mass culture, is because the scope of the song is as big or wide as the default scope of a human being's emotional conciousness. (Doesn't have to be good to be great. 'Great' means it was bigger than usual.)

This is how a song you never liked, preferred, or thought you really enjoyed somehow resonates in you at a later date. Because when you're driving home late thru the rain, sad and depressed about something significant and impactful in your life, the song you always skipped past on the CD (because it was the overkilled "super-single") suddenly is very comforting as it visits you on the radio....somehow at the right time.

Even though, technically, a "right time" should not be possible. You allegedly never liked this song, remember?

Maybe you don't. And maybe that's true.
But the guys in that band sure poured alot of heart and soul into it and it's apparent.

Maybe it's that 'heart and soul' baseline that's become your friend on the ride home.?
Maybe it was always a superb song and you just weren't ready for it when it broke?

These dudes might not be singing 'bout anything remotely close to what I'm going thru, but goddamn I know their feelin' something about their stuff the way I am right now about mine.

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Live 8 was a wonderful thing this weekend. I'm proud to say I remember tuning in thru the day of Live Aid back in the day.

What was even cooler about Live 8 was that no one knew it was also a secret public audition/screentest for the villains of the next Batman film...

Chris Martin trying out for 'Riddler'


Good Charlotte guy testing for "The Bratter"
(Toby Maguire is contractually bound to Spiderman, so they got next best looker.)


Bjork auditioning for "HellCat"


Elton showing he's the only one who can play "The Bugger"


Black Eyed Peas just "wants to be da' main bodyguard elite thug squad of whateva' fuck villain they picks mate..."


The producers don't even have a villain for this guy, but goshdamn he looks like someone smart enough to ruin Batman's plans...
Maybe 'Evil Morgan Freeman"?


Billy from Green Day walked in saying "I was BORN to play The Spinal Tapper, you hear me??!! This guitar shoots Death Darts, Lava, and I can fly on it too you cocks."


And of course, like anyone really thought he'd let us down, Stipe came in and, well, ...in underground theater circles, they'd say "He 'Stipe'd it." - nailing the part to the point of the casting director discretely off to the side whispering a phone call to Bellevue for a "special pickup."


Stipe from the audition:
"You see i could have worn a blue doo-rag mask of the same fabric to match my suit, but that wouldn't have expressed the deeper issues of my character's complex persona. He wants to be understood for his evil genius, and by using the exact color facepaint to symbolize, work as, yet not BE a mask, I'm not truly hiding the person underneath with a physical barricade. You see, "BlueQueBallser" is an enigma representing the power of sadness in our modern world and how a sad person can be as powerful in their rage as a mad person. BlueQueBallser will affect change in Gotham oh yes - while the idiot minions of Gotham's "elite" are mesmerized by the MagnaHumongaGiant JumboTron screen playing a looping DVD of R.E.M. videos, I will be underground poisoning the water systems of the entire city by crying my own mutant radiated Death Tears into the water. By the time I'm thru, Gotham will become my own living plaything...the world's biggest city now my own video-making playground of zombie-fied, permanently sad frowned citizen extras, heeding my every direction from atop my flying camera crane. My radiated Death Tears will have triggered the saddest song each person had ever heard in their life to constantly play in their head. Yet regardless of the millions of different songs internally at play, they will all walk in unison pacing among the Gotham streets to my delight!. From my crane I will direct them with my Atomic Bullhorn (with ragged NME sticker on side) to shout blocking moves and directions for which crowds I want to walk off the un-finished highway overpasses to symbolize the doom we ultimately all share. I figure within 3 years of modest (but budget-exploding production costs to bankrupt the city) video making, I will have accomplished my mission. And The Batman will have no one to save except maybe...his own record collecton!!

If he can ..."


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Watch this hilarious commercial campaign with a caveman being the spokeperson for Milk.