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People always talk about the dangers of exposing children to violent and sexual imagery in their media. Granted, I don't feel comfortable swimming because I saw Jaws when I was 5 or so. That was the same year that I saw Halloween. My folks were fine with death, but they'd cover my ears if someone said Bowels. At the rate children are acclimating themselves to the visceral fake realities of media culture, show them Psycho in the womb. The real dangers are the seemingly innocuous but, by extension, more formative swill we shovel into their little bowls. Bad guys lose. Good guys win, and again by extension, win possession of the girl. It's all going to work out, and true love exists. I hate to sound like a lemon, but true love exists when two people are mutually dissatisfied and they bear with it. If it's not about fucking or obsession or possession, then it won't last. Walt Disney ruined my life...
On a lighter childhood note, I found a picture of one of the villians from the new Spider-Man flick. I'm stoked, because the Sandman is classic Spidey Foe, yo.
Cyndi Lauper has a new album dropping on Tuesday. The last one was mostly Jazzy Ballads. It even featured a duet with Tony Friggin' Bennett. Sam Cooke never understood why paople went so apeshit for someone that sang offkey. Oh Well. It's like I always say about cooking. When you're dealing with an impossible ingredient, deepfry it.
Russian Paint by Numbers Porn.
I've been at work since 4:30. I got home at noon. Between the intense labor, lack of sleep, and factory air, I feel drunken. Bear with me. I, myself am gonna ride the train. It will be nice to have a hangover that consists of feeling rested and renewed. People will comment "you don't look like shit.Well, not total shit." Flatterers...
As a recap, I'm home, awake, and thoroughly befuddled. I've been listening to the excellent Chinese Rock post on WFMU. Go download songs by NO. I like very much.
I'm going, I hope, to Blington this weekend. I commissioned a portrait of KJP, and I need to pick it up from Amor Loco. When I go, I think I'm going to rent a hotel room. That way, I won't have to sleep on a couch+I'll have Hi-Wi-Fi. I'm going swimmingin the pool, too. I'm going to swoop up anything of mine left in that place. I'll give my friends a squeeze and a solid wish, and that's it for Blington, for me. I'll eschew the flowing Pagan Sun God robes in that swimming hole, but I will come up for air and be new.
Swimming...
I could have worse hobbies...
Our favorite son of Krypton, Kal-el, and I were discussing instrument names as names for children {Don't worry. I'm not pregnant}. We got about as far a Gamelan and Banjo.Howzabout Sosso Balaphone?
I found a clip from Mondo Magic today. Out of the whole Mondo canon, this title is hard to find, particularly because it's nothing something for which one looks. I stumbled into possession of a bad VHS dub of it years ago. I was living in the second floor of a house. The exterior of which was wrapped in a unconvincing faux brick coating, bright-red. My living room was bisected at a 45 degree angle. While it sucked to have half of my already small space rendered intimidating, my television was small. It looked bigger as you walked it across the room. That's where I watched the contents of a blank titled in thick permanent letters.
Essentially, keeping in spirit of the other Mondo flicks, it's footage of people doing what people would left to their own devices where habits can have habitats, back in the woods & deep in the jungle. Not to belabor the particulars, but one sequence always resonated as being redolent with an appreciable sensibility. In a nutshell, a remote Amazonian village has one central policy. You fuck up; Stick to the dome. For example, in cases of infidelity, the cuckold gets one good shot at his little Lothario with a big stick. After that, easy by easy and fair is fair.
I find it comforting that, in this pristine, balanced and primal{primitive? Be a hippy, and perceive a deep fullfilling beneficent EarthmotherHowWeShouldAllBe kind-of-a-feel here} society set in the throbbing jungle heart of the planet, most of the fellas have a good couple of scars on their head.
I guess it's like Darwin said," A difference in Complexity does not imply a difference in Nature." Word.
Does anyone speak Francais around here? I think I found Mummyporn. It might be art, but I kind of hope it's porn.
If I'm going to have a little flavor parade for the eyeballs, let's unload some lil' old things.
Meat
One Huge Eye...
Visual Cognition. Look at Dr. Angry & Mr. Smiles, then lean back and squint....
Quirky MP3 Blog. I think it's Russian.
Fake Pet Fish...
Chinese Rock...
Jesus wants your Socks. I hear George Michael might be interested, as well.
Russians...
How long until you can run a train on the darlings of the white supremacy movement?
Labies and Gentals, I give you Shigeo Fukuda. Trust me, and spend some time looking here. I think it's positively gorgonic.
Amazing, but true; I wasn't ever really that into Star Wars. I do, however, like watching Yoda rap and breakdance...
I'm not sure when the political climate shifted from voting for, as opposed to against, candidates. This dreary climate does little to dampen my enthusiasm for politics. It's my sports. It does, however, lead me to be a little disaffected as far as action is concerned. I vote... and I'm going to flip a Hummer the Bird tomorrow. They make those fucking things in my town. Get mad. Make a statement.
I have to work again this weekend. That means no trip to Blington for another week. That sucks, as I miss Ms. Yo and Amor Loco desperately. I'm going to have well over 110 hours on this paycheck. That means sushi dinner. I'm going to rent a hotel room, so I can go swimming, too.
SQUIRMy Japanese Theremin. {Gratuitous Sex & Violins}... You find funny things when you are trying to find a justification for an awful pun and a silly picture. Hip-Hip Hotty? Check, Maxim Steez... Origami? Hai! Double GUITAR! Dirty Jew Talk? Kevin Federline (Britney's Babydaddy) Rapping? Is anyone still with me?
Sun Ra on SNL, yo.
From where do German babies come?
I collect vintage pictures of couples. Some people collect pictures of women with dogs.
If asked to encapsulate America, I might just point here... Speaking of which, a cowbot was in my warehouse today. Tall and lean like Hank WIlliams, he was. He had the hat and boots and everything. He came in with a group of salesmen and my Dad. Pops and I, as always, smoked simultaneous cigarettes as a greeting. The cowboy whipped out a pack of Reds, and partook, as well. "Where's y'all's rehstroohm eht?" I said "down the end of that aisle, door on the left." "Thank yeh kahndly," as he swaggered towards the john. That was fucking perfect, I said to myself, grinning as one who's seen too many movies.
This site was in one of my very first posts. I stumbled across it again today, and I smiled again. P.S. What is Swedish for "frottage club"?
Hail Satan.
20 JFGs has Bonny Prince Billy & Tortoise covering DEVO...
I'm going to live here... It makes me feel like a real cool cat. Maybe I should buy a beret. This move is happening just in time. My job has been uberhellish. We called the new owners today, and asked if they could send a person over to lend a hand, because my coworkers haven't been showing, and, when they do, they always HAVE to leave early.
"Why are you leaving when we have so much left to do, yet?"
"I've got kids."
I shit you not.
We called the new bosses, and explained the increasingly dire situation. They said "Suck it up."
Again, shit not. Being spoken to in such a manner by one who's grown makes me want to overreact.
Suck it up? I hope you're talking about you and my nuts, you dick. How many more masculine metaphors can I cram into this rant... cram.
No wonder that I go home and stuff my head with fractal cabbage and see stars.
Speaking of dreams, watch one about my small love.
Wow, check this out...
The cool thing about getting certified to teach ESL, is that I can do it anywhere in the world. I want to spend a year in Brazil, I think. I hear that they pay you very well to teach in the Middle East.
Bo Diddley... 'nuff said. Hell, let's do some music videos. Crispin Glover?
Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Karen O is completely capable of having a crush had upon.
Vincent Gallo's Paris Hilton Panty Rotisserie? Yes, please.
Avalanche!
I can't overestimate the importance of the role that one Syd Barrett played in to formation of my musical taste and obsessions.
Did you know that you've always known a Sun Ra Tune?
I think I'll wrap up this spiel with the Tom Waits song that we all sang along to in High School.
