mikegerber.com

Owl Club manual FOUND

2008-09-24T17:47:00.000-07:00

Ahh, to be young and smart and funny and at Harvard and heavily influenced by McSweeney's...And yes, I smile as I say that.

Legion is a great-looking blog that I'm going to be checking out, and forwarding to my friend Ed Park, because THESE ARE HIS PEOPLE. The young rascals have found the manual for the Owl Club, one of Harvard's Finals Clubs, and mercilessly dissect it here. Thank goodness Yale doesn't have anything like that.

Keep up the good work, youths.

Eight Principles of Fun

2008-09-10T10:02:00.000-07:00

Life is for fun. Here's a short bit of Flash on how to make more.

Hari Puttar?

2008-08-26T09:24:00.001-07:00

A Bollywood film is being sued by Warner Bros. for copyright infringement. The Times of London's overview of the kerfuffle (I know, easy for me to say) can be found here.

Like The Beatles in 1961

2008-08-23T12:11:00.000-07:00

F.O.S. (friend of site) and boon companion Jerry Neufeld-Kaiser plays tuba in a Seattle-area "Balkan-inspired brass-and-drum band" called Orkestar Zirkonium. The Orkestar's homebrewed CD has just been reviewed by All About Jazz; here's what Elliot Simon had to say:

Balkan brass bands are large aggregations with lots of brass, a tuba/drum/percussion backbeat (one of the most infectious things on earth) and hot soloing by trumpets, saxophones, clarinets and assorted other instruments. They have for some time been drawing large crowds in NYC nightspots such as the Knitting Factory, Brooklyn's Barbes and even boast their own yearly NYC Golden Festival. Bands like Romashka, Zagnut Cirkus, Frank London's Brotherhood of Brass and Slavic Soul Party pay homage to the "old country" super groups such as trumpeter Boban Markovic's legendary brass band but do so by putting their own American take on the genre. They intertwine klezmer, Rom, Latin, funk, jazz and other ethnically driven musics into the overall mix for a sound that gets you dancing and, of course, drinking. Orkestar Zirkonium, from the somewhat unlikely quarter of Seattle, Washington, is the latest offering in this eclectic and highly danceable genre.

Things kick off with a literal hand-clapper entitled "Heavy the Foreign Land" that immediately showcases the hot polyrhythmic intertwines of percussionists Paul Kikuchi and Sari Breznau, bass drummer Anne Mathews and drummer Matt Manges. Zirkonium has a big full sound thanks, in large part, to Jerry Neufield-Kaiser's pumping tuba which sets a frenetic pace on the burning "Hot Coals," also featuring a slick clarinet solo from Kevin Hinshaw. A decidedly nasty trumpet section (Stephen Lohrentz, Ted Lockery and Samantha Boshnack) combine for great voicings that evince more than a hint of Eastern-European ethos while at times Latin, Spanish and jazz seep through for a great multi-ethnic stew. Such is the case on "The Mimbo" where Serbian and Latin brass find common ground against a pulsating beat, and the frenetic "Rusasca De La Buzdug" nearly careens out of control—but somehow stays on track—for a wild brass infested excursion.

While many of these cuts start out fast and get quicker there is a soft, almost elegant side to the band as well. This is expressed most obviously in the delightful new music composed by trombonist Colin Ernst: the beautifully meandering "Guillotine" slowly snakes to its inevitable swift conclusion, "A New Light" has a stately klezmer-esque feel and the emotive pathos of "The Purge" is portrayed as a classically injected Spanish symphony. A hidden cut is the perfect denouement as all solemnly reflect on what was one hell of a great ride.

This is great "tukhes" shaking music with a depth of composition and style that keeps it from becoming cartoonish—Orkestar Zirkonium is the real deal.

Anyone interested in communing further with said real deal can their site/buy their CD here. $14.95's a small price to pay for the precious boast, "Oh, them? I was a fan BEFORE it was cool."

New Elders: "Give Up"

2008-08-19T21:11:00.000-07:00

You too can "travel the world, humping."

Judging a "book" by its cover

2008-07-14T18:59:00.000-07:00

I'm taking a break from writing (blogging in particular) for the summer and maybe longer. But there is a controversy afoot, a tiny little tornado in a teacup that, like the ringing of Pavlov's bell, has wrung an inevitable response from me. I'm just as God made me, folks, a simple satirist and ex-magazine person and lover of GOOD magazines, and so must fling out my two cents, asked for or not.

Don't let the glossy intellectualized idiom confuse you: The New Yorker cover of Barack and Michelle Obama is bad satire--blurry in intent, flawed in execution, and...well, the kind of clunking, ill-formed thing that rigid hierarchies of smart-but-unfunny people create when they're determined to crack wise. Illustrator Barry Blitt has depicted the putative First Couple in the Oval Office, she dressed as Angela Davis with 'fro and bandolier, he as an turbaned Islamofascist. There's even a portrait of Osama bin Laden over a roaring fire, stoked by an American flag. The pair share a fist-bump in sly solidarity.

Blitt's objective was, I can only assume, to lampoon June's FOX News fantods over "terrorist fist-jabbing," as well as the right-wing's endless whispery smears of the Obamas as somehow unamerican. There's nothing wrong with this goal--the hysteria and smears ARE ridiculous, and legit targets--but there's nothing particularly right with it, either.

First off, it's old news. Six weeks is an eternity for political humor, and there's nothing lamer than an untimely attempt at timely satire. This would have been a fine cover (nothing extraordinary, but fine) if it had appeared within a week or two of FOX's fluttering (June 7, according to YouTube). Running it now makes readers go "Huh?...Oh, I remember that." It is this moment of confusion, followed by vague recollection--a timely joke delivered in a non-timely fashion--that is causing the negative reaction.

Second, the style doesn't match the satirical intent. The intent is to underscore the absurdity of Obamas-as-fifth-column, to show it to be a fever-dream born of rhetoric and paranoia. You can do this either by creating a grotesque fantasy--amping it one way--or going in the other direction, and anchoring it in reality. Blitt's slight, watery, wan style is exactly the wrong treatment. Maybe Blitt came to them with the idea; fair enough, pair him with somebody who can use Photoshop, have the pair of them create a seamless photocollage that takes the right-wing fantasy to its FARTHEST POINT. Make it graphic, make it punchy. Photorealistic or Felliniesque, it doesn't matter, but the finished product should insist upon the opinion you want the reader to take away: "this is absurd."

Whenever The New Yorker does a reasonably decent cover, the ancient Steinberg cover of Manhattan as the center of the world is referenced; but this comparison shows just why Blitt's cover is so structurally weak. To begin with, the Steinberg cover fit the venue; its satirical point was that many Manhattan-dwellers believe that their island is the center of the world. The presence of that idea on the cover of The New Yorker was completely appropriate, and allowed the reader to absorb that idea without having to decode its relationship to the magazine "behind" it.

The viewpoint of Blitt's cover is one diametrically opposed to the one held by your average New Yorker reader; therefore, it's understandable for readers to see it and think, "Why is The New Yorker saying that the Obamas are militants/Islamofascists?...They would never do that...Oh, I get it." Ideas like this--ones that require a second of mental processing--these are weak vehicles for satire, especially in our hyper-visual, hyper-distracted, information-dense era, when none of us have time to process anything very deeply, given the volume of crud that comes at us every minute of every day.

Furthermore, there was a fitness of idea and style in the Steinberg cover that does not exist here. Steinberg's style was cartoonish, idiosyncratic, exaggerated to the point of absurdity--all completely of a piece with the "NYC as center of world" idea he was trying to put across. Like Steinberg, Blitt's style is personal, artistic--but in this case, it confuses the reader; is this Blitt's fantasy, since it comes from his pen? If we remember the old news story, AND know the political stance of TNY, we realize, no, it's not--it's commentary. The idea Steinberg was putting across was a small, amusing one; a harmless affectation held by New Yorkers everywhere, grist for a witty, stylish cartoon. The whisper campaign against the Obamas is not such light-hearted material, and that the editors could not make this distinction shows exactly why they should be kept far away from the funny cabinet. It could potentially make for a great cover, and maybe even a great cartoon cover, but this ain't it. It ain't anywhere close.

Jokes don't get over when you ask the reader to spend too much time "decoding." This is where idea and execution must work together, sharpening and enhancing each other. Blitt's cover is blurry in all three facets, intent, context, or execution. Intent: "Is this pro-Obama or con-? It seems con-, but because I know that The New Yorker is liberal, I guess it's pro-..." Properly sharpened satire, not to mention top-notch magazine covers, do not rely on the reader's prior knowledge of the magazine. They answer this question automatically, unequivocally, viscerally. Laugh or don't, but we WILL kill this dog. Context: Why now? Timely satire must be timely; this cover is the comeback you imagine six weeks later. Yes, I know the mechanics of producing a magazine require a certain time-lag--so don't do timely satire. Execution: The style employed does nothing to aid or refine the satirical point, and unlike Steinberg's style--or the photorealism of the famous NatLamp cover--actually blunts its impact...Which is, of course, completely intentional on the part of The New Yorker.

See, the problem isn't that the cover is blah. The problem is that the cultural turf staked out by TNY means that it cannot produce satire, and lacks either the good grace or self-awareness to abstain. Good satire is almost by definition excessive, and that runs counter to the "timeless intellectual arbiter" brand TNY strives so mightily to maintain (for commercial reasons). The reason that Tina Brown fizzled is because you cannot simultaneously pull stunts in the belief that all publicity is good publicity, while at the same time relentlessly harkening back to the Good Old Days when men wore suits and Shawn despised adverbs (or was it Ross?). One or the other stance always feels false. When Roseanne guest-edits, it feels like they're slumming; when they print this cover, it feels like they're giving authority to ideas that should be ignored. They can't win, so they shouldn't play.

But strange as it may seem the people at The New Yorker envy the people at The Daily Show; they envy them their relevancy, and their reach, and their hipness. Just like the people at The New Yorker in 1975 envied those things about SNL. The difference is, TNY in 1975 knew what it was, and what it was for, and today's New Yorker does not. That's why this cover doesn't work, and also why the pundits are rallying 'round to say that it does, because if they admit that it's just a ham-handed attempt at what things like The Daily Show, Colbert Report, and (yes, even) South Park do regularly--and effortlessly--they'll be forced to see just how many steps behind they really are.

So laugh, or don't, but know that it isn't a big deal--magazines don't matter in America, and haven't for 30 years--and we wouldn't even be discussing it were it not for the media's preference towards stories about itself. But given the poisonousness of the Obama-as-traitor meme--and the skill and persistence with which the right-wing smears Democrats--I personally wouldn't have run it. Unless, of course, it was really fucking funny.

It isn't. Moving on...

PS: When Kate read this post, she suggested that it either be done in a pure tabloid style (to which I replied, you could do it as a sideways spread inside the mag), or if you had to stick with TNY's house style, have McCain in a grocery store checkout line, reading a Weekly World News-type thing that reprinted all the lurid Obama-smearing. (I particularly liked that idea.) Kate also said she'd cancel her subscription, but felt that people who did that over objectionable covers "are asshats."

Clay Felker, RIP

2008-07-01T10:25:00.000-07:00

Legendary editor Clay Felker has died at 82; here's the NYT obit.

Along with his one-time Esquire-mate Harold Hayes, Felker has always been a bit of a hero of mine. His New York continued in the 70s what Hayes had demonstrated in the 60s: the vision of a magazine as a beautiful, lively, important thing. "Beautiful" because it was written and designed passionately, by artists like Tom Wolfe and Milton Glaser. "Lively" because it was fully integrated into the culture, not apart from it, and examined it all. (In a magazine like Hayes Esquire or Felker's New York, nothing was too small that it did not deserve a bit of intelligence to illuminate it; nor too big that it could escape a bit of puncturing wit.) "Important" because it had some power of its own.

The great magazines of the 60s and 70s--Esquire, New York, Rolling Stone, National Lampoon--these were the last batch that introduced ideas into the culture in the way only TV and movies do today. Not coincidentially, Felker's generation was the last group of really top-flight creative people to enter the business, and I would guess that was because they grew up before TV began rewiring our brains. There is something about having to come up with the images on your own that gives print and radio a different kind of imaginative rigor, and all our misplaced populism about TV and movies (really a sort of wishful present-ism) doesn't change that.

In Felker's magazines there was a willingness to address any topic, in any way that suited it best. This is a function of intellectual confidence, in themselves and their product and above all their readers, that editors simply don't show anymore. (I suspect they could have it, in the right environment; my friend Ed Park did some great editing at The Believer.) Heading down the chain of command to artists and writers, the uncertainty only increases--a magazine's content is only as audacious as the editors controlling it.

And so people with the capacity of a Felker or Glaser or Wolfe don't go into magazines today, because what a magazine is, and what it is for, has devolved into something unworthy of them. With very few exceptions, the American magazine business can be seen as an arm of advertising, and shares with advertising all of its flaws: its lack of substance; its obsession with surface; its confusion of currency with importance; its manipulative aspect; and above all its tendency to repeat itself. But unlike advertising, there is no driving force behind the modern magazine. In our time, selling something is an utterly elemental pursuit; a magazine is simply a vehicle, one among many, no more beautiful or necessary than a billboard.

Most really intelligent people aren't interested in, say, Justin Timberlake; and those really intelligent people who must force themselves to keep up with such things are, in my experience, gloomy tending toward miserable. Successful or not, they live in the chilly shadow of their own wasted potential. You cannot work in American magazines without ceding some portion of your brain over to topics that really only enthrall 13-year-olds, and though the same thing is true to a certain extent in TV and movies, the brute amount of money flowing through those industries means that a lot of offbeat and interesting stuff happens in spite of itself. Not so with magazines.

Felker said, "I believe that print — now that broadcast has become the dominant mass media — has to be aimed at educated, affluent people.” This is undoubtedly correct, on both the ad and edit sides, and grows more so by the day. As print retreats, its few gestures towards mass appeal are merely cross-promoting truly popular forms like TV or movies. But it is a shame; there are certain things that print can do better than other media, and need to do if we're going to have a well-functioning country. The newspaper experience can be replicated via internet; for the moment magazines are still trapped on paper. Killed by the old technology, not yet saved by the new one, those few magazines that still insist on their own territory--that demand the reader come into their sphere, not simply consume more facts about famous strangers in a slightly different way--are more irrelevant than ever.

Felker's New York probably hastened that slide, in that what it spawned wasn't a new generation of Glasers and Wolfes, but a puffy lifestyle magazine for every mid-sized city. Art is difficult, and the gap between success and failure large and obvious. Commerce is a much more predictable transaction; and so without someone at the top who is completely committed by the idea of creating a new world of the mind via ink on paper, a magazine inevitably declines into just another way to make a buck, and a not very efficient one at that.

Maybe if we all close our eyes...

2008-06-08T11:26:00.000-07:00

...this wonderful parody of Google News will become real...Except for the Cubs winning the Series, of course. That's only okay if they could share it somehow with the Redbirds.

"The Second Gun"

2008-06-05T18:08:00.000-07:00

Today is the fortieth anniversary of RFK's being shot here in Los Angeles. (He died a day later.) Though his murder is commonly thought to be open-and-shut--"crazy Palestinian enraged over the sale of fighter jets to Israel, et cetera"--unfortunately this is not the case. While it has never taken on the Byzantine permutations of his brother's murder, as with the Martin Luther King assassination, the passage of time and the accrual of information increasingly suggests dark dealings were afoot.

The main discrepancy in RFK's murder is how the number and direction of the shots fired by Sirhan do not match up with the wounds suffered by Kennedy and others, most specifically RFK's fatal shot, which LA Coroner Thomas Noguchi put at behind the ear, from roughly point blank range. Given that there seem to be shots from two directions, and too many shots for Sirhan's eight-shot revolver, the question is: who else was shooting? The main candidate is right-wing rent-a-cop Thane Eugene Cesar.

This theory is put forth in the 1972 video below, which I've attempted to find for years; it's out-of-print and nobody could ever get me a copy, so I thank whoever posted it on Google Video). While some aspects of its construction (reenactments, suggestive montage) make it obvious that it is far from objective, its points are succinctly made and difficult to refute. And there's a wealth of footage and photography.

Fascinating, and depressing. I embed it below...with the knowledge that perhaps there are better ways to honor RFK. Given my choice, I'd opt for vigorous sex with movie stars. I wouldn't even care if the FBI was taping it.

Me? Number one?

2008-06-03T09:07:00.000-07:00

(Folks, I wrote this a couple of weeks ago for fun. I had vague notions of trying to sell it, but realized over the weekend that I couldn't possibly do so in time. The wheels of publishing grind ever-so-slowly. So, enjoy.)

I JUST WANT TO HELP THE TEAM

All of us who follow NBA basketball were a bit shocked this week when we heard that the Chicago Bulls snagged the number one pick in the upcoming draft. Mathematically, they only had a 1.7% chance of getting the pick, and since Michael Jordan left in 1997, the franchise has seemed, well, a little snake-bit. Fluky injuries, a lot of bad draft picks, some trades that haven’t panned out…Put it this way: it’s been a tough decade to be a Bulls fan.

So the sudden good luck was surprising. But what was even more surprising was the news that they plan to select me.

I don’t mean to be ungrateful, It’s a huge honor and I will absolutely try my best, that goes without saying. It’s just—I guess I’m still trying to wrap my mind around it. I didn’t realize they could pick anybody. Then again, when you’re talking the kind of money they mentioned on the phone, who’s going to say no, right? I like working from home and everything but…damn.

I found out the day after the draft when John Paxson, the general manager of the Bulls, called me here in Santa Monica. I was out doing errands on my tricycle and he left a message on my machine. That was what, Wednesday morning? I haven’t called him back yet; I know I should, but to be honest, the more I think about it, the more it freaks me out. I mean…wow. What a life-change. Having to shower with your co-workers.

The main reason I’m freaked is because I’m not technically what you’d call a professional basketball player. But my wife Kate reminded me that none of the other players in the draft are professionals either. “Some of them haven’t even finished college,” she said. “Didn’t you get most of a Master’s Degree? They’re the ones that should be nervous.”

I love my wife.

Still, optimism doesn’t change the fact that I am only 5’6” (well, 5’5—or maybe 5’4” if I haven’t done my yoga). But then again, how tall was Spud Webb, 5’2”? Of course he had tremendous leaping ability, whereas at 38 (39 next month) I have to stretch every day or else my lower back gets really tight. When that happens, everything’s uncomfortable, even sitting on the couch. But that’s why they have trainers, right?
And on the other hand, whenever we used to play “HORSE” on the hoop next to the garage, my dad always said I had a decent jump shot. We didn’t play often, because I got sick of losing. Honestly, I couldn’t afford it; whenever there was money on the line—even, like two dollars—I’d totally freeze up. I’d have to visualize missing, just to relax enough to hit the rim.

Even though my shot is all right—I probably make five out of ten when I’m “on”—after about twenty shots, the ball starts getting really heavy. I wonder if that’s ever happened to LeBron. You’re playing HORSE with your dad and doing all right, then all the sudden, it’s like heaving a boulder, and he starts asking if you want to play “double or nothing” and you can hardly breathe and have to start visualizing shooting the ball so it gets wedged behind the backboard where all the spiderwebs are, just so you can quit with dignity. “Sorry Dad, I would finish the game, but you know how I feel about spiders.”

I probably shouldn’t tell Paxson all of that, at least not until after the contract’s signed. I’ll go to the park and practice, that’ll make me feel more confident. Maybe somebody in the building has a basketball. Or better yet, a soccer ball—they’re a bit lighter.

Number one picks are really about the future of the franchise. In that case, I think I can see why they picked me. I mean, I’m not likely to get any worse, especially if I’m going to be getting a lot more exercise. If they think I’m good enough now, when all I do is sit at my desk…What I’m trying to say is, I’m happy to be “a cornerstone.” That doesn’t seem like it will require a lot of physical activity.

Obviously, I have no problem mentoring the young guys. Dating, careers, investing—we forget how tough it is when you’re that age. Especially if you’re suddenly famous and have a lot of money. Don’t worry—it won’t go to my head. Except for the money part, that might be a little tough. And having people recognize me, how weird. Maybe I should change my name.

The one thing Mr. Paxson did say in the phone message was that “I seemed like a high character guy” and that they were always looking for those. Well, I may be short, and pretty weak in my upper body, and I think legally I’ll be obligated to tell them I have a slight case of cerebral palsy (people usually just ask, “Did you twist your ankle?”)—but if you’re looking for high character, I’m your man. I won three “Human Relations” awards in high school, and I’m still a pretty solid citizen. The people downstairs are always calling to see if I can watch their 11-year-old, and I usually say “yes” even when it’s not totally convenient. Hey, whatever. What goes around comes around. Although to be frank my wife ends up doing more work than I do, the kid being a girl and relating better to her. But—and I swear this is totally true—I found a twenty dollar bill at Whole Foods last year and tried to turn it into the security guard (he told me to keep it).

I guess Kate’s right, that kind of good deed does pay off!

The trailer for the new Coen brothers movie...

2008-05-31T21:19:00.000-07:00

looks AWESOME.

Have at it.

Paul! Yale! Right on!

2008-05-29T13:07:00.000-07:00

Ed over at Dullblog has posted the happy news that Yale has given Paul McCartney an honorary degree.

I wonder if they'll hit him up for money? "Your Class Dues, Mr. McCartney, cover the costs of your Alumni Magazine..."

Buy Ed's book!

2008-05-21T09:46:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine (and fellow Dullblogger) named Ed Park has just had his first novel come out. It's called Personal Days and its website is here. Now, because the publishing business is fantastically messed-up, the performance of one's first novel is very, very, oh-so-very important--either the beginning of a beautiful relationship, or cause for recriminations and broken hearts on both sides.

So if you're looking for something to read on the beach, buy Personal Days. Ed's a funny guy and great writer.

$7500 spent; carbon reduced by 90%

2008-05-12T10:14:00.000-07:00

Jon over at Tiny Revolution linked to a very interesting column about one man's successful (and surprisingly cheap) efforts to retrofit his house, eco-style.

John Cleese on comedy

2008-04-28T10:51:00.000-07:00

This podcast of John Cleese breaking down a few pages of a comedic screenplay with some students from UCSB makes me think we should start cloning him. We have the technology, and it would only require a swab from the inside of his cheek. Trust me, any petty moral concerns would fall by the wayside once we saw how much funnier the movies were...

I'll start a petition.

The Greatest Cartoon EVER is coming back...

2008-04-23T11:18:00.000-07:00

Dear wife just turned me on to this bootleg video: it's a preview of Season 3 of The Venture Bros. TiVo being set NOW...

Martin Luther King, RIP

2008-04-04T16:29:00.000-07:00

Spare a thought today, from the heart, for Martin Luther King, probably the greatest citizen this country has ever produced. Assassinated forty years ago today.

Also consider using the phrase "by gum" in a sentence.

Those interested in how the world really works should consider listening to these two podcasts, courtesy of radio station KPFA's "Guns and Butter" program. In them, lawyer and writer William Pepper outlines what took place on April 4, 1968. (Hint: it wasn't one crazy guy going crazy.)

http://www.kpfa.org/archives/index.php?arch=24212
http://www.kpfa.org/archives/index.php?arch=24329

Attention all lovers of D&D

2008-03-29T17:59:00.000-07:00

In some random gambolings around the internet, I unearthed this great piece about E. Gary Gygax from The Believer. As I was reading, I could almost smell my pal's mildewy basement rec room (along with the lingering scents of sexual frustration and Doritos). Looking back, I'm sure that much of Barry Trotter was lifted directly from my hours as a teen playing D&D. So blame that, if you wish.

The line in the article that particularly struck me was, "in a society that conditions people to compete, and rewards those who compete successfully, Dungeons & Dragons is countercultural..." It certainly felt that way to me, as I played it way back when. D&D had its roots in war games, and could often devolve into fantasies of rape and rapine--but like improv, its outside hides a core of authentic rebellion, the kind you get whenever someone is given a method to tap into their unedited self.

Dungeons and Dragons' authentic power in this regard--in its unleashing of the imagination of its participants--is as plausible a reason as any for the anti-Satanist anxieties that accompanied the peak popularity of the game. Remember, this was the Reagan-era Cold War, a time of binary choices: capitalism or communism, God or Satan, Coke or New Coke. Never mind that it was a false choice--that the USSR wasn't primed to roll across Western Europe, or that the "Leave It to Beaver" lifestyle was a much a fantasy as free-love, or that New Coke was a brazen hustle designed to increase market share. The Sixties and Seventies were still fresh in everybody's minds; we all saw what happened then, didn't we, when people got a little too creative, a little too cute...I'm just riffing here, but is it any wonder that a game based on imagination, and cooperation--where the whole point is to envision a new world, and working together to succeed in it--would threaten the authorities of this one? The irony is that D&D is above all an orderly world; for me, playing it never felt like a trip through chaos. More like time serving under a different God. Characters who acted before they thought, or were merely self-indulgent, usually didn't last long.

The backbone, the self-sustaining myth of our current junior-varsity dystopia is simply "that's the way it is, always has been, has to be." That's crap, of course, but it's not crap to fear the power of the liberated mind. To imagine is an attack on the flaws of the present. And, as ineffectual as it seems, the mother and nourishing root of any change. Just as every tyranny comes from apathy and stupidity, every innovation is born first as a whim. So I think the more imagination humanity can generate, the brighter our collective future will be. I wonder if they could teach D&D in schools?

There is no "q" in team

2008-03-26T10:55:00.000-07:00

...but there is "eat me." Or there would be, if they hadn't been so chinzy with the e's. It's like that friggin' novel, what was it called, "Even Though Great Literature is Incredibly Difficult to Write, and One Could Claim, With Quite a Bit of Evidence, That Novels are Dead as a Cultural Force in Our Society, I Think What the World Needs is a Book With No 'E's In It"? Was that the title?

Anyway, Dirk Voetberg has a funny piece up at McSweeney's today. Check it (but don't wreck it).

Rutles 'n' roundup

2008-03-19T16:30:00.000-07:00

Check out my latest post on Hey Dullblog here.

Other things I like:

The BBC sketch show "Swinging."
"Top Gear."
The Apu Trilogy. (Rex Reed: "So good apu'ed myself!")

Elders take on Project Runway

2008-02-26T09:52:00.000-08:00

Watch and be amused.

Where am I these days?

2008-02-25T17:53:00.000-08:00

I'm posting quite a bit over at Hey Dullblog, a group blog focused on The Beatles. You are encouraged to check it out.

2008-02-12T08:58:00.000-08:00

Those of you determined to resist Obama-mania, or simply amused by the novel gender politicsl embodied in the latest Clinton candidacy, should check out these snappy Bill for First Gentleman items. The creator of the merch, Lee Tyler, says that "proceeds go towards the production of South African electro and funny comedy shorts." And who can't get behind that? Wallets open, forward march!

Sex, Lies, and Hollywood

2008-02-12T08:39:00.001-08:00

Friend Dave Hanson has joined the Web-olution! (That seems just lame enough to be a word.) He's writing for a new site called Sex, Lies, and Hollywood, where browsers can satisfy their need for snarky gossip as quickly and efficiently as a deep-net trawler scours the oceans free of all life.

Seriously, there's a picture of Aretha Franklin that'll make you lose your appetite. Forever.

Man after my own heart

2008-02-05T19:16:00.000-08:00

Believe me, fella--I understand.