It's been awhile.
Check this out, and I hope it makes up for it.

1500 videos

From a response of mine to a drinking buddy who commented he doesn't think he'll be able to party at all in 20 years:

Dude, It will be like our Dads did - sipping on a fav drink at functions and not getting too wild.

That's when our kids start to learn from observation "what Dad's drink is". Which they'll think has always been our drink (because we don't tell them how much we actually got shitfaced back in our day). Then when oure kids get older, start cutting back, and settling on that one thing they know they like and doesn't tear them up, then they realize the generational chain of it all.

Circle of life.

I'm proud of that one.

August Nights

I was on phone with friend last night, in my easy chair, windows open, dusk time on a summer August Sunday night. I flipped over and saw the last minutes of your Amereca's Funniest Videos. That finishes and they cut to the outdoor shot of the host, with a location audience in the main street of Disneyland behind him, the Disney Castle in the distance behind him. (The Mouse/Disney/Buena Vista owning everything in the world, they film so many one-off clip shows, game show moments shows at Disneyland)

I had this sensory, full body flush of memory that was really cool and overwhelming:

Growing up, young enough when you didn't go out at night (except to spend night at your friends), or be playing down the block after dinnertime on Sundays, the TV shows my family plopped and watched was usually whatever was on ABC Sunday nights, which was always some Disney special, or Disney sponsored movie. As the summer wound down, weekend trips or vacations were to a minimum, and part of the summer wind down experience (sliding into school year schedules) was watching TV regularly on Sunday nights again. Those cool August nights, that "back to school tomorrow" feeling.

That experience, that sensation rippled itself thru me instantly last night when my brain registered:
- Channel 7/ABC
- The light blue, lit-up Disney castle in background
- Family entertainment
- Cool, beautiful dusk August Sunday night
- me watching TV at that moment.

I was totally 6-7-8-9-10 again.I felt the summer winding down like I did when I was that age.

Probably moreso than I have since I was little because I packed in enough fun and adventures this summer (concerts, partying, mini-trips) that paralleled as many bike rides, dirtclod fights, family vacations, "kill the guy (with the ball)" ('smear the queer' as you may know it), Goonie and Stand By Me expeditions around your suburbs, 7-11 trips for baseball cards and candy, and touch football in the street.

When I was little, the last image I saw (and dreaded) was the end credit sequence that signed off that that night's show was brought to you by Disney, and they had this animation of the star arc'ing over the castle. That was the visual sign of "bedtime" for me.

I know Fast Food Nation can prove some evil inherit in that perfect kiddie branding/brainwashing, but a shooting star at night time arc'ing over a castle ain't so bad for a kid to associate with bedtime.

When i was young we had 2 Lhasa Apso dogs.
The male's name was Toshi.

My Mom chose it, though I don't know how or why. We had him I think before Star Wars and I didn't name him. In star Wars, Luke wanted to go to Toshi Station to pick up some power converters. It wast the local hangout for Tatooine young adults.

I had a dream last night and Toshi was in it;

I started running a footrace, like a 10k or something, in the countryside. among many people in the starting line Bo, Luke, and Daisy happened to running the race too. Eventually I was running alone, and got on a giant new skyway/beltway (like how a highway runs around/thru a city but up way high, like Baltimore, Philly, Toronto.) I'm alone running uphill on this perfect, new black asphalt lane that felt like a running track. It's night time. Muggy, super quiet, and humid. High up. Moisture in the air like last night was, every surface like it's sweating. A giant Sears Tower to the left, the only structure in and against the dark grey foggy giant sky that surrounds the skyway lanes. Colors lIke I'm on Kamino, the cloners rain planet from Attack of the Clones, but it's not raining. I'm thinking "I guess that's Toronto's Sears Tower. Hmm!.

I start getting up to the highest part of this beltway where it levels off and there's this lone box, like a shed in the middle of the road lane. I get to it and Glenn Close is stooped against it, like she was in the race too, catching her breath. I stop to chat with her and we both start looking back down the beltway and deducing we must have missed a turn in the race route because no one is coming up the beltway. Or did we? But at her feet, milling around like normal milling, is my old dog Toshi. LIke he was her dog and was jogging the race with her.

I'm in that deep REM sleep of a dream where it's so vivid and real to the senses that I start realizing I'm in a dream and begin thinking about what the dream means from within the dream. I begin piecing the elements together, separating the suboncious message meanings from the easier things that are just recent dashes of normal life into the dream sauce -- muggy and foggy (the drive home last night from band practice), lone uphill new asphalt beltway, up at top, Glenn close and I made a wrong turn maybe?, Toshi my old dog is there (thinking about Toshi station from watching Star Wars/your website)

Then the giant outtro chorus of Mellencamp's "Pink Houses" yanks me from the dream into my bedroom as my alarm clock goes off with 107.1's morning playlist. I lay there mad about this. I finally get up for work and have the thought in me that Lawrence Kasdan needs to trick all the actors of the Big Chill into a secret conf call. So he can get Glenn, Kline, Goldblum, JoBeth, Hurt, Berenger, and the others on the line to get honest feedback on his serious idea of a Big Chill 2, but the same characters at the age they'd be now in 2006. Because if he sent message to all of them (via their pubicist's) saying "I'd like us all on a call to discuss a Big Chill 2", some of them would vote their opinion by blowing it off.

That was my Thursday morning. How was yours?

Liz

Good. Good for her.


I bet Paris Hilton is happy Liz won't be slimming down to compete with her. Glad Liz feels that she could be a threat if she felt like it.

Elsewhere in entertainment, a young inner city child, born of criminal, drug addicted parents was given a chance to express herself via a small play put on in her class. This moment of expression and release instilled in her a sense of achievement and boosted her self-esteem enough to see, for the first time, a way out of the sad and depressing life she foresaw for herself every time she cried herself asleep... asleep to the screams, angry noise, and despair coming from her parents bedroom.

After this moment, the knowing teacher saw for the first time a sense of strength in the young girl. An instance of clarity for both of them, that she would be allright.

But goddamn't, we don't have time for such drivel.
THE WORLD MUST KNOW LIZ WILL WILL EAT WHENEVER SHE WANTS.

Look here's the bullshit man, right here:

True friends understand you're human.


Blah blah fuckin blah, all the way to the gourd of omnipotent disclaimers that validate and correctly temper the legitimacy of subtle dishes which poke and jab at political correctness in self-expression....


but fuck all ya'all... (in a good way)


Try to lay down some heavy concientious high maintenance diatribe b.s. while REO Speedwagon's 'Roll With The The Changes' is blaring thru your headphones while typing.
The simplicity of Life and the neeedlessness of b.s will greet you much faster than it took me to write this sentence.

5 beautiful pitchers with treasured friends hours earlier doesn't make it easy [to type]. But it makes the Valhalla ending [of the REO tune] really effing awesome.

Get over yourself. Live a little.
The humidity hasn't been that bad yet,


JAM!!!!!!

To quote Porchsleeper...

Vince Neil - Drunk Again

Read about it here, from melodicrock.com:

"CORABI TO THE RESCUE:
Press Release / June 30 in Tampa, Florida Vince Neil headlined a show at the St. Pete Times Forum, with special guests Ratt. John Corabi, one time singer for Motley Crue has worked with Ratt for several years now, and he and Vince have had a very amicable working relationship, having shared several bills over the years, and working with many of the same musicians at one time or another.

It is no secret that Vince Neil has had some issues with alcohol over the years, and unfortunately those issues reared their ugly head in Tampa. According to eye witness reports, Vince took the stage already inebriated. He began his performance singing off key, mumbling, and staggering around the stage. At the twenty-three minute mark, Vince wandered off to the side of the stage, where some reports have him collapsing on stage. His band, which featured Jeff Blando (guitar) and Dana Strum (bass) carried on without him, performing three Led Zeppelin songs with Jeff handling vocals. The band carried on in the utmost professional manner. They deserve all the respect in the world for this as musicians and performers.

Meanwhile backstage, management approached John Corabi to head out on stage to help them out of this already ridiculous situation. John accepted and took to the stage to pick up the set with Live Wire. John performed about half of the song while holding up a shaky Neil. Who at one point in the song grabbed the mic and announced "I love this mother-fucker" referring to John. Corabi got a good laugh out of this and seeing that Vince was determined to carry on, finished the song and took a bow, and left the stage. The show ended shortly after with Vince not being able to carry on.
Considering Corabi's past experiences with Motley management, his taking the stage for any amount of time was not something that he had to do. His actions speak volumes as to the kind of person that he is, and that he is truly a professional! Not to mention that he sounded incredible, there is video of some of the incident on the web.

I have to say that I have all the respect in the world for Vince's band, and John Corabi, and feel that their professionalism should be emulated throughout the music business. With a huge tour with Aerosmith looming this fall, Motley may need to think about having Corabi open the shows as an insurance policy, so should Aerosmith! The fans are speaking out on message boards all over the web, and www.john-corabi.net would love to hear from you at info@john-corabi.net."


See some of it here:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dnlzu-KHtbc

Horribly hilarious. The few times he manages to get his drunken howling out of his mouth (to attempt the English language) is worth waiting for as he meanders around the stage.

Go to Bonnaroo next year.


**************


And to make up for such a long absence (May was a bitch), here's a great story about a program that has prison inmates help raise puppies to be guide dogs. It helps the puppies and it helps the inmates tremendously.

SHOES

Turn_it_up.

Blade Runner is getting a fancy new re-re-re-re-release


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I'm gonna own the new re-re-re-re-release of Smokey and the Bandit this week. You should too. Cuz it was fun.


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I'ma big fan of Robert Fripp, as a person and musician. He holds quite sacred the performance, power, and relationship that music is to people, especially in terms of performer and audience. He requires audiences no recording and photography of his performances and or King Crimson's. He recently reiterated why this is on his online diary. I thought it was good:

[RF responded to someone posting this quote on the a message board: "When you hear music, it’s gone... lost in the air... you can never capture it again." ]

As a player who has long argued against recording live music, there is much here that resonates with me.

The very attempt to capture a quality, as if it were a thing & material object, prevents it being "captured". A quality escapes our attempts to pin it down. Rather, when we abandon the attempt, and enter the moment, the situation has just changed: the moment becomes available to us. The question is then, are we available to the moment? This is a practical question, and available to practical answers.

A moment may be transitory, brief if measured by the clock; but a qualitative experience takes us into the eternal. Like, do we remember the first embrace with our Love? Do we recall the opening notes of ... (enter a title of your choice). Even, how can we forget a passing smile of a Mother’s love?

So, what do we do to remember a moment which is, in its nature, ephemeral? There are techniques, and forms of practice, to help us develop a deeper relationship with transitory events. Exceptional events, which present themselves unbidden, impress themselves upon us, regardless of our practice or experience. A qualitative experience, an entry into creative time, by definition puts us into a different relationship-in-time with the moment.

The fragility of the creative moment, its delicacy & vulnerablility, its richness only-to-be-held by letting it go, is a tragedy of the creative life; and also what makes it real. So, a reformation of the statement…

When you hear music, it’s arrived, and present in the air… you can never capture this moment, and it will never return. But the quality of this moment is eternal: you may embrace it & carry it with you, as it is also embracing & carrying you.


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The older I get, the more youthful my fascination becomes with sensing myself age and grow.


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Shatterpoints exist in the heart and mind, just like glass. A truthful push at the truest spot in a true moment can truly bring someone to pieces. And like a glass, we're puzzled as it felt like we barely squeezed when it broke in our hands.

This is a Talent Show

Watch this guy present the Evolution of Dance.

He's got it down. Wait for it.

MIA

I'm alive, I swear. All 8 of you can rest assured.

Coming soon with fun stuff.

The BIG 35

So technically yesterday was my birthday as I blog this near 1am after my bday night.

The big 3.5.

Joy threw me surprise party that I completely had no idea about. Gathering wonderful friends of mine at the Ann Arbor sushi place Godaiko after work. I just had helped enable a surprise party for good friend Steve Bekkala 3 days before on Saturday, and had spent the days since that moving from our house to my Mom's for a week as our hardwood floors were being refinished.

I'll spare the details on how much other stuff was going on that helped me never think something was being planned for me, but I honestly had no idea. We were just having our "date night" at Godaiko but for my birthday, and would sit in one of those little enclosed Japanese rooms where everyone sits low with no shoes on. As I left work with Joy to drive the mile to Godaiko, it just so happened that my Mom called from Delaware where she was helping my Grandpa install a big plasma TV he bought after winning 10,000 in a lottery there. No rouse, for real. I had no time to think or suspect or see clues of friends cars in the lot - I was on the phone the whole time into the restaurant lobby.

I finally get of phone, turn corner to where i think we're to sit and see infamous friend Star Wars Mike sitting there with a bunch of people in the enclosed Japanese room and it hits me. A surprise party. Bam. Got me.

It was great. I never thought this year of all years it would happen, as I have had 3 surprises ruined or foiled before. It was cool to have it finally occur and experience the fun of it. Joy did an excellent lovely job, and I'm so grateful.

ON TURNING 35 --

I've never had a "thing" with any age the way most people freak or squirm at the thought. But 35 has been kinda walloping me. There's absolutely no excuse with this age and the numbers after it -

- getting busted by cops for hijinks
- being concerned with stuff from teen years
- jumping jobs out of boredom

The list goes on.

Even the phonetics of it - THURDY FIGH-VA.
The 'Th' and 'FI' and the 'uv'. All fuzzy sandy slidey sounds. Not much grip or traction audio-wise. 34... 4 is under 5, almost halfway yet not.
4: Even number. Even Keel, divisible by 2. A building block numeral. 2 to 4 to 6 to 8 to 10. Do it all over again, but add numbers in front of it. 12, 24, 36, 48...

But then what about 36? Yeah, but 36 is after 35. After the "halfway point to 70" which 35 is.

6 is an even number, yet still has the "thurdy" in front of it which lisps and slobbers on 6 which is sleek, sexy and also divisible by 2, though it can hang with the odd crowd like 3 and 9.

3 is ok, the quirky kid who only needs 2 friends to be himself and have fun, those are 1 and 2. 9 you have to watch out for - he has enough friends (eight of them actually) that thinks 9 is a cool dude, probably a buddy to 10 by living next door to him. But he's not as gifted as 10. So he shortchanges other number friends. Add anything to 9 and you come up short: 9+5=14, 9+7=16. 9 is so close to 10 that kids like 7 & 8 think that running with 9 might get them to the big teen leagues, so they go with him instead of 10 and take that leap. But it's always one short. 9 is like a bad Hollywood agent - promising A-list parts but once on set you realize he got you the best friend role. 7 signs with 9 hoping to get a 17 role, but only 16. So painfully close.


10 is mature, older, stronger. A pillar of strength. Dependable. So much so that exponentials use 10. Ya ever see giant numbers calculating the universe being to the power of 4?? You're closer to authority when you're closer to a 10. You know what ou get when run with a 10. 10 is all there with who are. You're a 5? Then you're 5 with a 1 in front... 15.

Just a sidebar to see if you're still paying attention, remember that the secret to life is 44% Lettuce


Anyway, point is that 35 is kooky number for me. The first one to really play on my mnid and make me feel like a true, can't bullshit myself otherwise, full fledged adult. I don't think even the sweetest 90 year old Aunts would say at the reunion "Oh, you're 35? You still have loads of time to figure it out."

And by the way, I'm officially not worried about by Corporate Advertising. No longer in the 18-34 group. They're most likely pissed at me for not already having soon-to-be-teenage kids hijacking me for CD or iTunes money.

I was sent a letter by Doritoes, Mountain Dew, and MTV saying the memorial service they held for my demographic PIN number was lovely, went smoothly, and no babies screamed and filled their diaper during the service. I was told Anthony Michael Hall delivered a great eulogy, as Ewan McGregor was "not available." His excuse was that he didn't know who I was.

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Like footage of Rock and Roll accidents?

Widescreen DOH

A full-length feature film of the Simpsons. 2007.

Go see 'V for Vendetta'.
Don't read reviews, don't investigate who's in the movie, don't read up on it.
Just go see it and let the fun of wondering who's behind it all put you in league with the characters of the film.

The guys who made the Matrix movies delivered this. It's not Matrix, but if you liked the premise of the first Matrix, you will enjoy V. Great acting, wonderful vibe of "what's coming next?" throughout, and the Matrix-ey message of empowering people to not fear challenging the world they're handed by the powers that be in charge.

A great line that reflects the main theme: "People should not fear their government, the government should fear it's people."

It's a smart, engaging, sophisticated ride. Portman is great in it. The masked character is master class acting - like Boba Fett doing Shakespeare. So fun.

Don't ruin it and read who's in the movie. Just go see it and enjoy.

Please find another planet NASA

A perfect example of where Goerge Carlin got the idea for his bit that suggested a good reality-based political campaign slogan would be "People Suck. Fuck Hope."

This piece of shit family launched a disturbing campaign to tarnish the funerals of fallen soldiers. They get other like-minded shitheads to tailgate military funerals with signs that read "Thank God for IED's" and "Thank God for Dead Soldiers."

They say the soldiers are fighting for an army that represents a country that accepts homosexuality. So in their mind the best answer it seems is to harass the mourning families of soldiers who died and act glad that they lost their kids.

Fucking morons. I hope they get run over.
But, Check it out to see the gang of people harassing against them. The universe hates a void, holes left get filled (in this case with intelligence). Actions get equal opposite reactions.

*( Btw, I swear because they deserve it. Resolution this year was to swear only in deserved situations.)

Oscar Recap

I think Michelle Williams was the prettiest woman of the night, regardless of the big bird dress. In terms of "Wow, she glamored up really great." Plus she didn't have that look in her eyes of "it's incredibly important that I come off as obviously knowing that I'm at the Oscars and looking glamorous." In other words, she wasn't being Nicole Kidman.

Yes, Jake is a class act, as Datawhat.com mentioned in his great recap.

I felt Clooney would get at least one Oscar. Hollywood was going to thank him somehow just for being GC - taking on O Riley, hitting issues, and being a good dude about it all. 'All' being, like, everything.

Hate to say, I think Jon Stewart not so much bombed as he more perilously landed the plane with one wheel, on fire, and got himself and his (writing) team off before it exploded. No one really died, but the CO probably won't think he's got the right stuff for the same mission next year. Though I think he does and should get to host again.

The timing/delivery of the opening monologue was, imo, filled with pregnant pauses of "Wow, I knew this would be like no other room I've played to before, but holy shit!, the vibe in here is more overwhelming than I imagined." The order/calibur of the jokes was weighted towards the end of the monologue, which in one perspective was great because it saved him when he needed it.

The Jon Stewart we love recovered and relaxed into the timing and flow we're used to as the night went on. I think if he gets a second hosting chance, he'll kill next time from Minute 1. He's gonna study his game tapes and learn from it. He admitted in press interviews beforehand that he was intentionally being careful because, "hey, it's the Oscars and I'm not here to piss anyone off" basically. Maybe being so aware that with such topic-heavy movies and themes abound, and knowing he was made host because he really skewers hot topics and themes well, he was worried that he could easily go too far perhaps? I don't think from the years doing the Daily Show that he's seriously undertook the exercise of pulling his own reigns back. Why would he/when would he have to? The Oscars were that first exercise.

He played it safe, and for good reasons I think. Maybe too safe for Stewart fans and Oscar watchers. You could see it in his eyes, hear it in his cadence. IMO, the killer instinct he definitely has for doing 'the Jon Stewart thing' was tempered juuuust a bit too much. I'd bet someone an ice cream that as I type this, he has or will share a drink at the after party with Ben Stiller to chat/ask about how Ben learned to be fearless at the Oscars. Every bold comedic personality had to find that fit of their personae with the Oscar night. From Jim Carrey to Whoopie, the first times they let loose their thing, they had hopeful/scared eyes. Dreading that moment of silence after a joke that screams telepathically from the audience "Um, this is the Oscars, and we're not giving you points for that one. See the signposts and drive a little better now please." We've all seen that moment. Now it's old hat to them.

All Jon needs is his first Oscars after party to sense and receive the real feedback from the celebs. Next time he'll be fine. And his good buddies will be honest with him when he's drinking with them this week to decompress from Oscar week. And share with his closest buddies how hot such and such is in person and how much a dick such and such dude is. And how gay so and so is and how everyone knows it but keeps it on the d/l.

To get off that topic, I thought I'd check Drudge to see how the smug extreme Right would bitch and comment about the Oscars. Unfortunately Ann Coulter's Oscar picks were actually pretty close, though I don't care for the commentary.

I gotta say...when I read it, her attitude and personality that comes through in her writing brings to mind the image of the desert Sarlaac Pit from Return of The Jedi, that Jabba tried to throw Luke and the boys into. The original Sarlaac pit I'm talking..., before it was re-edited to diminish the "angry vagina lined with fangs" characteristics. Get the drift? (The first re-edit for home video Sarlaac- before the special edition's extra tentacles and Dune sandworm mouth.)

Great, Dave...send yourself off to bed with that imagery...

Joy'll need a water glass to wake me out of it -
"I was being yelled at by a leggy aryan-like Sarlaac Pit in an Ally McBeal suit. It kept berating me with "Whuuuut... does little Lukey Liberal need a hug?"And Boba Fett was agreeing with it and rooting it on, though bound by tentacles to the inner cheek of the thing like the old man in the dungeon in Pythom's Holy Grail. In a disappointed Outback Steakhouse voice thru his headset "Shtupid woynee Jed-oi... they's what's pussifoy'en this galaxy..."

MOTHER NATURE'S ARMORY

A mail flyer for a whizbang new composting method reminded me of the walk Joy and I took last weekend thru the Arboretum. We walked around the way back and saw these 2 giant compost piles within a cinderblock enclosure to section it off.

I noticed that there was steam coming off these giant hills and Joy mentioned it was from the natural gases reacting during the composting process.

I'm sure in Joy's mind, it made her think of girlie things like how wonderful nature is that it can recycle, rejuvenate, and create even more fertile material for new life.

I thought "Ya know, I'll bet McGyver probably rigged one of these to explode naturally right when the enemy's Jeep came banking around it."

Surgery To Become A Virgin Again.

Ya know, seeing this kind of thing happening gives a little legitimacy to the argument of fanatical Eastern religions who see Western culture as depraved, spoiled, and completely obsessed with sex.

It just gives them more reason to believe it's right to keep their wives and mothers bound and controlled so they can't eventually get this frickin stupid. Save your money, buy him some new golf clubs and do some Kegel exercises for Pete's sake...

As buddy Jan says:
"If you read carefully, you'll see that the main client for this is muslim women who've been fooling around before marriage and want to appear as if they've behaved like proper muslim ladies... or be put to death when their new husband finds out. Chalk another one up for the "Religion of Peace"!"

Testing.


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