my brain right now:
40% vocabulary words + 20% cold medicine + 15% geometrical equations + 10% considering the sludge that would ooze out of my brain after self-trepanation with a leftover chopstick. oh and 15% phlegm. Sorry.


This might be the delirium, but I'm nearly certain I just heard Bob Odenkirk doing the voiceover for an Outback commercial. Can't we give him better work than this, people?

and since I'm not watching enough TV right now* I have to say I'm super excited for this HBO series starring Danny McBride. I can do without a remake of Land of the Lost, though.

*I'm not really watching that much TV at all. I tried to watch Pushing Daisies tonight, but I got distracted and studied instead. I basically am stuck on Thursday and Sunday TV until Lost comes back in mid-2010.

Okay, I'm off to bed now for real, because I feel like there should be a tranq dart sticking out of my neck right now as it is, but I just thought this picture was super awesome, and possibly reenacted from a thought bubble of Otto from the Simpsons. Anyway, it's pretty great. I should point out that the last few weeks of pictures have been great over at riotclitshave, but the front page has lots of wolf spiders and albinos on it, two of my biggest fears. Although, note the albino squirrel balls are pretty funny. Go little dude!

um....what?

Award winning Berlin based artist Natascha Stellmach has acquired the ashes of Nirvana frontman, Kurt Cobain, and has transformed the grunge icon’s remains into an installation investigating suicide and the power of desecration.
Stellmach’s work in which the ashes of Cobain are rolled into a joint to be smoked at the completion of the exhibition, now claims an ephemeral place in the life story of the Grunge star. “This final act”, Stellmach said, “will release Cobain from the media circus and into the ether.”

I was never the biggest Nirvana fan and I think time has only diminished the band's appeal for me (between the legal battles, Foo Fighters, and Cobain being labeled my generation's John Lennon, I sorta just walked away), but I can't dispute the impact they had on me as a youngster*. And while most of my wants to slap this artist for doing something stupid, I hardly feel like this is the most insulting thing that's been done to this man after death. So carry on.

*I just typed "youngster" and didn't even register it. It might be the soporific effects of the cold and cough medicine I've taken today (along with what seems like half the universe, I'm really sick right now), or it might be that I'm just getting old and ridiculous. Either way, I'm not letting it get to me. So hooray for that. Goodnight, all. Happy October.

Paul Newman

Once, when I was a no-good kid and I got caught doing something stupid with one of my no-good friends, his father screamed at us. For hours. I wish I could remember what he'd caught us doing, but considering my age at the time, it probably involved setting something on fire.
My friend and I really thought we were some badass kids. Smoking cigarettes and bottle rocket fights and sneaking out all the time. I think his dad was just finally sick of his 13 year old son being such a pain in the balls. He yelled at us until he was blue in the face and then he disappeared for a minute. He came back a few minutes later with a VHS tape in hand. "You boys think you're hard" he muttered, shoving the tape in the VCR, "watch this".
To this day I'm not sure what he was trying to teach us. I'm not sure how he hoped forcing us to watch "Cool Hand Luke" would impact us in a positive manner, but two hours later, we were completely enthralled. It was the first black and white movie I ever truly loved, and it remains a favorite. I haven't seen no-good friend in over a decade, but if I ever bump into his dad, I owe him a word of thanks.
Despite watching a lot of news this weekend, it somehow escaped me until just now that Paul Newman is dead. His health has been on the decline for about a year now, but this doesn't diminish anything for me, since he is one of my favorite people that has ever lived. Not just because I like most of his films. It's not just because he was a great philanderer, or that he got himself on Richard Nixon's enemies list. It's because the man was just a class act, all around.
He had senses of humor and modesty. He carried himself with dignity and grace, and when he spoke, it was usually worth listening to. If you ever get the chance, watch the episode of Iconoclasts that Redford made on him. Or hell, watch the man's movies. I, for one, will be watching Slap Shot, The Verdict, and The Young Philadelphians, to start with. Here's to a strong and lasting legacy.
Godspeed, Paul.

and check out some of the trivia: He was the visual inspiration for the original illustrations of superhero Green Lantern/Hal Jordan.

"I've Got a Pen"

Did he bring a prop to the debate?


Also, what's up with the bracelet-off? Who's gonna be the first to go balls out and wear 4,000 of those puppies?

also, WHO BRAGS ABOUT BEING FRIENDS WITH HENRY KISSINGER? Are you serious? Isn't the man not allowed in half of Europe because he is wanted for war crimes? Fuck man, somebody just confirm that he's a war criminal already.


With all the mention about Ole Miss and the James Meredith riots of 1962, they've had all sorts of Mississippi alum on the radio talking about how embarrassing it was to be attending such a racist institution at the time, and they stress the progress that has been made. and I'm sure it has. But you have to figure that a sizable portion -if not the majority- of the student body at the time was opposed to the admission of a black student. I wonder who those people are talking to. Probably their children. Sigh.

I know I said no more pictures today. I really meant it. But honestly, did you expect me to find something like this and not post it? Seriously, I'm halfway towards having it blown up and airbrushed on the hood of my car. (I wonder how that would look on toast...).
anyways, here is the HDF-exclusive of
"smoking woman offering booze to baby lion".
a/k/a the greatest photo I've ever laid eyes on.

I just thought this was amazing. Enough to steal outright from English Russia, anyway. That's enough pictures for one day.

Fountain in the Detroit Airport

via Oobject

"Slime molds" at English Russia.
These are pretty beautiful. How many have you eaten?

Scan Toaster

Yes, the greatest piece of cooking technology in the last century.

Japan, 1973

While I'm not positive yet, there might be a lot more pictures like this being posted in the near future. I'm not sure yet. The idea of posting someone else's travel photos is slightly bothersome, but some of these are too great not to.

Hot Cop, age 3

Bird-Man

This guy was thrusting in front of me at the Eagles' home opener. Apparently, he drives up from Virginia for every home game, some beer cans spilling out of his pickup as he pulls into the lot. Nice.

I completely forgot it until now, when I went to empty out the pictures on my cell phone.

Tried to watch TV last night after a long day of work that seemingly got me nowhere, and couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. I missed most of last season of Heroes, but did it always have the red carpet hour before the program? What the hell is going on? Was Chuck as popular as NBC keeps telling me? Why is 30 Rock taking so long to come back? Oh well.

We probably coulda used that...

In other Iraq news, a former Iraqi official told the Senate Democratic Policy Committee on Monday that more than $13 billion sent by the US for reconstruction projects in Iraq was wasted or stolen through elaborate fraud schemes.

While I know that I'm going to mess this up, I'm still super excited to construct my own little Usagi Yojimbo using the design I found on Cubecraft. I'm even buying an exacto! My craft expertise is something awful, but I'm sure you can do better than I can. So go make one of these. If someone can pull off the Duck Hunt dog, I will bow to them in public and proclaim you to be the greatest person EVER. Suck on that, Abraham Lincoln.

How can she still be doing this? Has nobody called her on this? Really?

Also, who the hell gave Bill Maher a movie? Really? Was Michael Moore so popular that we thought we should smarm him up by 200% and remove whatever semblance of blue-collar roots and location he may have had?

DFW

Because I spend a fraction of the time I used to on the internet, and most of that is used downloading podcasts, I tend to miss out on any news that isn't relayed secondhand to me about pig lipstick or how everyone's money is going to shit. So I missed David Foster Wallace's death. I mean totally.
Last night over dinner I was recommending an essay of his to friends of my mother's who were going to Maine next week. When I borrowed a computer to find and print it, I first came across a eulogy to the man. He hung himself a week ago in Claremont.
I have to state here that I am at best an intermittent fan of his writing. I think his verbosity, occasionally meandering train of thought, and barrage of footnotes have always distracted me from the meat of the stories he tells. Which isn't to say I dislike all his work. His essay on 9/11 remains my favorite piece ever written on the Horror. His Girl With Curious Hair is a fantastic collection of short fiction, "Lyndon" in particular being a personal favorite. But I still have yet to find the meaning of god in Infinite Jest, as many others seem to have, particularly in my writing seminar late in college*. I think it may have had somewhat of a serious impact on my opinion of him, since not long after I began to view him more as
pretentious hipster lit. a Proto-Eggers. and While I wasn't wrong, I was much further from being right. Backlash is backlash and just as stupid as anything that inspires it.
In any case, about two weeks ago I'd downloaded the audio version of his Brief Interviews with Hideous Men, which I'd read very casually years ago but regained an interest in when I saw that John Krasinski from the Office was adapting it for film. I'm curious to see how this project turns out. In any case, I've been listening to it between newscasts and music binges. The thing about audio books is that I rarely get entranced by them like I do actual books. They're more like background music.
In any case, I was enjoying my favorite coffee on the planet yesterday and running a few errands when I had to stop and scribble down a line of his in my pocket notebook. I do this relatively often, and recalling through it later I find lines from movies, notes from news clippings, and pieces of conversation overheard in line at the sandwich shop. But every once in awhile it's something that I just can't shake, and know I'm going to try to steal and use for something else at some point. More often than not, I don't, but it still functions as inspiration.
So, last night, as I read of this author's death, who I've recommended persistently and followed with an interest for the past ten years, I pulled the notebook out and looked down to my half-assed and completely unintentional nod to the man:

"It seems impossible that everybody could really be this bored"

in my clumsy script, written on my knee while crouching on 19th Street yesterday afternoon.
I don't really have much else to say, other than really, go download that 9/11 essay linked above if you've never read it or heard it. It really is an amazing piece of writing. And while I always appreciate it when an author will read their own audio books, I especially enjoy his voice, which has such a genteel quality to it.

P.S. I know the picture above is completely tasteless, but it also cracks me up. As does the Onion headline about NASCAR cancelling the rest of the season in his memory.

*As someone suggested to me the other day, if The Stand is the heavy metal of books, Infinite Jest is the Aja. I know how stupid that sounds, but it made sense in the context it was in. (Yes, I like footnotes, too).

So this GM employee discount deal... actual employees get like an extra discount, right? It's something that starts to bother me every time I see that commercial. That is all.

Buffalo Carcass, Zakouma National Park, Chad, 2007

I love National Geographic picture of the day.

Huh.

Attempt made on Ahmad Chalabi's life

hunh.

Haven't heard from him in awhile. I'm not going to wish this man any specific harm.

that's it.

Secret Weapon!!!

Does this new secret weapons program that Bob Woodward is talking about scare the crap out of anyone else?

"This is very sensitive and very top secret, but there are secret operational capabilities that have been developed by the military to locate, target and kill leaders of al-Qaida in Iraq, insurgent leaders, renegade militia leaders. That is one of the true breakthroughs," Woodward told Pelley.

"But what are we talking about here? It's some kind of surveillance? Some kind of targeted way of taking out just the people that you're looking for?" Pelley asked.

"I'd love to go through the details, but I'm not going to," Woodward replied.... "If you were an al-Qaida leader … and you knew about what they were able to do, you'd get your ass outta town."

ummm, okay. Now I'll sleep okay. Anyway, here's some speculation as to what this might be. Remember that high-powered microwave beam we were supposedly testing in Iraq a few years ago? Or was it this I was thinking of?
anyways, you ask me, I think I know what our new secret weapon is. Hordes and hordes of WHIRLING DERVISHES

James Jean

So, it may seem hard to believe, but I almost never talk about comic books with other people. Well, at the moment I hardly talk with other people to begin with, but more specifically, I don't talk about comics with other people because most of my friends don't read comic books. Come to think of it, most of my friends make fun of me for reading them. Which is fine, a hobby like that is pretty fair game. But then, so are all hobbies.
As a result of this, I don't really bring them up. I barely speak to anyone when I'm in the comic shop. I occasionally read some of the sites, or listen to a podcast, but for the most part my reading of comic books is completely insular. and I'm pretty much okay with that. I like to think it relegates my nerdiness to a covert status. Which believe me, I could use. God help me if I ever find myself in a bar with Patton Oswalt, or something.
Every once in awhile, though, and this is really rare, but every once in awhile I find myself at a party or a bar or something and some drastic and lengthy discussion of comics comes up with people who also find themselves in my boat. What usually results is a stuporous, impassioned argument over some of the stupidest topics imaginable.
Somewhat recently, though, I found myself at a bar in Portland discussing Fables. Fables, even within the comic-reading community, is a pretty divisive book. Lots of people seem to hate the book, especially those who have never read it and never plan to. I was certainly in this category for some time. Then, one day I had $12.95 or so burning a hole in my pocket and so I went out and picked up the first trade paperback, based on the sworn testimony of a podcast I listen to on occasion. It was okay. I said as much. "Keep reading it", a friend of mine emailed me when I asked him about it. "Everyone hates the first story arc, but it gets a hundred times better, I promise".
So, like a goon, I went out and bought the second trade. And to his credit, the second one got much better. And the third. And so on, and so on. In short, the book impressed the hell out of me. And this conversation I was discussing a few minutes ago, that exact same thing happened again. But that's not why I brought this up. But check out that series if you're looking for something to read.
Returning to my point though one of the more ecstatic points made in the aforementioned conversation was that Fables cover artist James Jean is probably the best artist that has ever worked in comics. And I did not dispute this. Because if you've ever seen the exterior of an issue of Fables you'd be inclined to agree*. He has employed a number of methods and techniques to cover a range of topics (and fables) in this job, all while retaining a very distinct style of his own.
It's not that I believe that comic artists aren't talented. I guess I just look at comic art as more utilitarian than say, fine art**. Which would only aid James Jean's case, considering that as a cover artist, he's not really bound by the requirement to tell a story as much as he is to paint a pretty picture. And there are regular comic artists whom I consider "fine" art. Jason Shawn Alexander. Mike Mignola. Jock. Ben Templesmith. Gene Ha (particularly in Top Ten: The Forty Niners). Jae Lee (particularly in The Dark Tower series). Sam Keith (particularly in The Maxx***. Oh shit, and Dave McKean (whose Arkham Asylum work still scares the shit out of me). Alex Maleev. David Mack. Michael Lark. John Cassaday. Alright. Well, the point is, there's a lot of them. But this post is about James Jean.
I just found out that in a few months, Jean will be leaving the series after drawing 81 covers. It's a shame, because I've grown to anticipate the covers just as much as the story. But I guess it was inevitable, with Jean's work growing in profile (gracing the cover of Giant robot last month!) and Fables showing no signs of slowing down. That said, I'll miss his cover work and I hope his art is as universally renowned as it should be. you can see every single Fables cover here.
In any case, you can buy the complete Fables covers here. Or read the book. Because I can assure you, it's totally worth reading.
Also, this is a pretty neat site for finding comic art by artist which I just cound today.

*Which is not to take anything away from interior artist Mark Buckingham, who is also quite talented.

**This is a really stupid statement coming from me, considering that one of my favorite paintings ever was drawn to serve as illustration for a children's book. Come to think of it, most of N.C. Wyeth's most famous paintings come from comissioned illustrations. So I'm a dink, and disregard everything I said. Ever.

I wish it was time for Cheers, but it's not. It's time for vengeance!

I've been thinking about the animated Maxx series, made for MTV in the mid 90s, and how gorgeous that was. It was perfectly animated, and the story actually made me go out and find the comic, and this long after my first era of reading comics and well before my second. I still remember staying up and watching that series, and Liquid Television (remember that show about the dude with the giant head? WTF?) and Space Ghost: Coast 2 Coast. you know what? Screw Adult Swim, I was pretty spoiled with animation in high school. and you know what? The Simpsons didn't even suck yet. What a blessed life I've led.
Anyway, the reason I started this footnote was because just a few weeks ago I was looking at the IMDB page for the series, because I was certain I heard the guy who played the voice of Mr. Gone in some other show. It wasn't him. How could a voice that great not be used more often? That dude should be this generation's Chris Latta or better yet, Frank Welker (The latter being the greatest voice actor EVER. Go ahead, click that link!).
I was sitting around thinking about my old Maxx VHS tape, though, and found out that the series still hasn't officially made it to DVD, which pisses me off. Anyway, just reading through the dialogue page on IMDB reminded me how great this show was:

To be first in the soil, which erupts in the coil, of trees veins and grasses all brought to a boil. Wait, it's different somehow, cause this land isn't mine, and my brain has been freed, I'm not thinking in... poetry stuff.

Man, I shoulda never thrown out all of my old VHS tapes.

Watching the Daily Show tonight (no, I don't go out anymore). and it might be that I've been watching the first season of Deadwood, but hearing Ian McShane narrate ANYTHING, makes me love that guy. Hell, I'm considering going to see Death Race just to see more of him. NICE.

Also, this show has been on point the past two weeks. and I'm usually not a giant fan. I know that Obama staffers watch that. and I hope to god they're smart enough to use some of this. Really.

Ice cream truck being pulled over on a windy woodland road. Yes, the music was still playing.

I circled around and i still couldn't get a decent picture.

I don't even know where to start on this Lieberman speech. I really, really don't.

Do you think Al Gore cringes every time he sees that guy? Do you think they still talk?
I wonder if Gore totally ignores him when they see each other at parties.

Sarah Palin as VP candidate

I don't think any of us saw that coming.

Still, it's SMART. Western reform Governor, wooing the Hillary vote. Also, announce it immediately after the DNC.

of course, iut's condescending to think that this will woo women voters just because she's a woman. Or that it'll woo reformists just because she's new at her job and [sic] calls herself a maverick. Still, it's an interesting pick.

I call myself all sorts of things. I'm not certain that maverick has ever been one of those. Except for a weird Top Gun phase in the late 80s. But that was different.

Sitting in an empty house, getting ready for the big speech tonight, getting ready for Casey's speech, and even more, Sebelius's speech. And then the bug event. Columns? I still need to see it to believe it, but surely by now Obama's people have heard the grumbling about the columns and have figured something out. But none of that has started yet. Right now we're still outside the building, watching the nutjobs and the weirdos and the commentators.
-There's a woman pulling for McCain in the parking lot, and I think Chris Matthews almost snapped when she tousled his hair.
-Glenn Beck interviewing Bob Barr. yikes.
-A guy in the background of MSNBC with a bullhorn, repeating "9/11 was an inside job" over and over and over while David Gregory pretends not to notice. It's that guy's right to protest. Hell, I truly believe he's got the right to be out there and say whatever he wants. But I also firmly believe it's everyone else's right in that parking lot to take that bullhorn away from him and punch him in the adam's apple. Seriously.
I'm trying to figure out who makes the party look worse, the yahoos with the buttons and shit on the inside of the building or the nutjobs with the bullhorns on the outside. I'm gonna say the latter, but not by some huge stretch.
I think that the press should really be covedring the protests outside of the building. I do. Because they truly are talking about some of the important and overlooked issues (what's up with that Blackwater contract? Remember that telecoms scandal?), but when some idiot with a bullhorn can effectively neutralize a major news outlet for 40 minutes... well, that's kinda awesome. But still, someone shoulda taken him out.
Now they're interviewing will.i.am. Shut.up.
sigh.
i think i need a drink.

40 years ago today: listen to it. Refamiliarize yourself with it. Use it for context. Sure, nothing's been fixed. But at least remember how far we've come. What can I say I'm big on optimism at the moment. I promise it won't hold up long.


Speaking of context, now listen to JFK giving his nomination acceptance speech at the L.A. Coliseum 48 years ago. Of course, you probably won't see these until long after Obama gives his speech, but it's not going to hurt you to listen to these speeches again.

My comic book tattoo has nothing on these guys' comic book tattoos.

Link Vs. Gannon

Scott Belcastro via I Am 8-bit

Travelling Pantsuits!!??????

Are you wondering Why it still doesn't seem over for Hillary? Yeah, that's because it isn't. She's doing the right thing, mind you, rallying around the reunification of the party and rejuvenating the entire party. She's rallying her base behind Obama and praising Michelle Obama, but she's also addressing the ideas that Obama was voted in on and knows that he won't be able to put a dent in within a term. She's talking about her candidacy as much as she is about Obama's.
Listen, I like Obama. and I think he means the best. But, with luck, he'll be able to tackle half of that in his first term. If he's really lucky, he'll be able to undo half of the truly scary shit that Bush did in his 8 years. The odds of Obama running 2 terms are ridiculously low. and she knows that. Do you think Obama will Get every American covered in healthcare? Do you think he'll end either war? SPOILER: He won't. He won't come close. She knows this, and so should you.
Which isn't to say there's no difference between him and McCain. Nor is this to say that Hillary could, either. Frankly, there isn't a person in the world that we could elect as our next president that will do either of these. And Hillary knows this. She also knows that in four years we'll still be yearning for these things. So she brings them up. After all, Youtube will still be around in four years. Obama's speech at the last DNC is what got him here, why can't it work the other way?
I don't blame her, mind you. I mean, she's angling for the next election. This is what politicians do. With the amount of speculation up about what her supporters will do, she needs to rally them behind the Democratic party. But she also needs to keep them in her pocket. Hence, this speech.
There's a reason she's still giving stump speeches, because she's still on the stump. Or at least a stump. I feel like this should be a new day. I feel like this should be the brightest moment in American politics in a long time. But as I watch AT&T thanking the Dems that immunized them from prosecution, as I watch the Captain Morgain chillout tent (sponsoring both conventions), I feel just as disheartened as I did earlier. I want real change in this country. I don't want some shitty neoliberal agenda just like I don't want some shitty neocon agenda.
So in the end, I can only swallow my bitter pill and hope, truly hope, that in the end, this is a beginning of change. I can only hope that the rest of this country won't give up on politics when this great experiment doesn't work in the first four years. So hope with me. Pray with me. Maybe this is it. Maybe politics hasn't gotten smart enough to fool everyone, but the idealists are finally in power. Because honestly, what else are you gonna do?

In the end, nothing. Vote for who you want and hope it works out in the end. Maybe that's what's so sad to me in the end....

The Best Video Game of All Time

Holy crap I forgot how much I loved this game. Play the whole thing here.

St. Petersburg, 19th Century

A beautiful group of photos.
via English Russia

sigh

quick question:

Does anyone have a copy of these mixes?

Pop Smear
Rock, Flag & Eagle
I Was at the Mall When It Happened

because I don't. and I can't remember most of the songs on them at this point. My ipod can't seem to hold contents for longer than a few weeks at this point, which means I'm just gonna start setting up mediafire accounts all over the damned place.

I know, a pretty weak update. I'm sorry about that. Things have been...complicated. I hope everyone is doing great.

In any case, I'll try to post something realistic as soon as I can.

In the meantime, yes, the Olympics have been awesome. Yes, I'm more excited for the Sixers' upcoming season than ever.

BEWARE

via Bighappyfunhouse

Not to take anything away from the US teams, but my favorite moment so far of these Olympics has been this guy from Togo winning that country's FIRST EVER MEDAL! The dude broke his paddle over his own boat!
I will say though, that the US Men's Gymnastic team winning the bronze, then running around flexing and loudly exclaiming "This is how we do it!" was a little demoralizing. The swimming... well, you probably already know about that.

I will say one thing, though. When did fencing opt for these shiny electronic suits? Call me nostalgic, but now it looks like you're watching robots fight. and we all know there's been enough robot bloodshed. or oilshed.

and Russia... sigh.
(Hey Condi, nice vacation?)

"not every wrong, or even every violation of the law, is a crime"

wait......what?

Another Bernie Down

Damn

Stark Landscape of Being

1. "Afro Father's Fight" - RZA
2. "Mercy" - The Lucky Dragons
3. "American Hearts" - A.A. Bondy
4. "Love Barge" - Big Dipper
5. "Open the Door" - Clive & Naomi
6. "Abandon" - The French Kicks
7. "Old Old Fashioned" - Frightened Rabbit
8. "Captain Tennille" - From Bubblegum To Sky
9. "I've Seen Better Days" - I Love Math
10. "There Is a War" - Leonard Cohen
11. "Moanin' the Blues" - Lucky Millinder
12. "Faraway From Cars" - Mercury Rev
13."I Wonder If They Ever Think of Me" - Merle Haggard
14. "In the Pineys" - Strapping Fieldhands
15. "Count It Off" - The Saturday Knights
16. "Long Agos and Far Aways" - The Small Faces
17. "New Country" - The Walkmen
18. "Blue Against Sky" - The BellRays
19. "Adam and Nathan Totally Kick Ass" - El Ten Eleven
20. "The World is In the Terlet" - Ted Leo & the Pharmacists
21. "Thought I Was a Gun" - Tim Fite

download HERE

dunno what else to say. Some of this I've been listening to for months. Some is newer. It's not exactly the most upbeat mix I ever made, but that's because of the universes of shit I've been going through. Try to bear with me. Anyway, that's all I got. The Ted Leo song is kind of a curiosity, written and recorded over one episode of the Best Show on WFMU, with the lyrics written by callers and strung together by Leo.


http://www.megaupload.com/?d=UJZSHBNS

Greg Palast puts McCain's Nuclear Energy Plan in terms I can finally understand: The Simpsons.

Get Your War On, the SHOW

I almost forgot, there's a Get Your War On animated show. I guess it's coming out weekly, so go here and check it out. It's absolutely as funny as you should be hoping it is...

Bernie Brillstein R.I.P.

Bernie Brillstein died last night from a chronic obstructive pulmonary.
You might remember Bernie Brillstein as the crazy-looking beardo in the card games of The Sopranos, or maybe from that documentary about Saturday Night Live. But the Truth is, Bernie Brillstein had just as much to do with the face of comedy than half of the comedians or actors you love. Without Bernie, "Mr. Show" would never have made it on the air. Nor would "The Larry Sanders Show". Ditto "Newsradio". or "Just Shoot Me"*. Oh, and "Saturday Night Live". This isn't even going into the movies he worked on, serving as executive producer for The Blues Brothers, Ghostbusters, Spies Like Us, Summer Rental... and a little movie called DOCTOR DETROIT. Yeah, it's a stupid movie, but it was 1983 and neede to serve as the sober yang to Trading Places' raging Yin.
Anyway, for Newsradio and Mr. Show alone, I owe this man a huge debt of gratitude. Thanks, Bernie.

*While it's not as funny as the other two, I still think this show has its merits. David Spade, however, does not.

More of Cotton's Irrrational Frears

I'm not quite certain where my fear of gasmasks came from, but it almost certainly stems from the The Wall movie and and the Wilfred Owen poem, "Dulce Et Decorum Est". It's pretty surprising how deep of an influence both of these had on me, and both around the same time.
The first time I saw The Wall I was in 5th grade and more or less walked in on my siblings watching it excitedly. I remember thinking I was probably too young to be watching it, but the only things that really disturbed me were the animated scenes of fascists in gas masks beating people with sticks and the scene where young Pink finds himself on a World War II battlefield and encounters some sort of sanitarium escapee*. Both of these scenes terrified me, and years later it was the first VHS tape I ever bought.
The Owen poem was one that I memorized and recited in front of my 6th grade English class. It was part of my requirements that I had to do this with 2 poems (the other being the old standby "Stopping By the Woods on a Snowy Evening"). I think it first it was just the imagery that drew me to the poem, first stark and bleak, followed by this frantic burst of activity, and finally this dreamlike terror. It still sort of freaks me out. It wasn't hard to discern that the voice was one opposed to war and its tactics, but upon learning the translation of the title**, as well as the fact that Wilfred Owen died just one week before the Armistice, never seeing an end to the war he was so mired in.
Anyway, yeah, I'm terrified of gas masks. This was only exacerbated later with movies like E.T. and (oh, man) Outbreak. So you can imagine when I saw the Oobject topic for the day. Yikes.
I was thinking that the one above would be the gas mask that scared me the most, but that honor, obviously, goes to the British mask from 1915. I honestly shuddered when I saw it.


*I can't seem to find any sort of reference to this anywhere. Di d I make this up? h, God I hope not.
** "How sweet and fitting it is to die for your native land"

Groups Predict Spike in Prostitution at the Republican National Convention

I just thought this was a funny story. Surely Denver would face the same problem, right? Which makes me wonder whether Pros from other cities would be bussed into the Twin Cities and Denver or if the residents would just be working overtime.

huh.

I was walking down the street today and lying there, next to an auto body place -I wish I'd thought to take a picture of this- was a pair of sneakers and someone's clothes. Laid out like that and everything. It was sort of unsettling, for a minute I was thinking that someone was probably just walking down the street and boom. Spontaneous combustion. How neat would that be? I'm not going to even pretend to know stuff about spontaneous human combustion, and frankly, I don't want to*. But I do like the idea of a guy just zapping out in front of you as you walk down the street. Maybe a really bewildered-looking dog, its leash untethered, trying to figure out what the hell to do now. Or maybe you, the passerby, would be showered with burning chunks of fatty tissue. Actually, that would pretty much suck. I can think of few punishments worse than that.
Oh, and someone would die.
So maybe neat isn't the best word to use.
but still, it'd be a pretty wild site.
Later I figured out that of course nobody combusted on my street. It was some kids that stole somebody's clothes at the community pool a few blocks away and ran off with them and threw them in the street. So yeah, no combustion.
Still, it was a pretty neat scene.

*I actually started to look it up, and then realized I definitely prefer my own idea of how something like that would happen over the quasi-established methods of human combustion.

turning 30

is very samey as turning 29.

Patton Oswalt's Hich School Graduation Speech

Patton Oswalt was invited to speak at his high school's commencement ceremony, and I just finally read it. and of course, it's awesome. So yeah, here it is. Click it to get top his site, which is funnier:

First off, I want to thank the teachers and faculty of Broad Run High School for first considering and then inviting me to speak here. It was flattering, I am touched and humbled, and you have made a grave mistake.

I’m being paid for this, right? Oh, wait, there’s some advice, right off the bat – always get paid. If you make enough money in this world you can smoke pot all day and have people killed.

I’m sorry, that was irresponsible.

You shouldn’t have people killed.

Boom! Marijuana endorsement eleven seconds into my speech! Too late to cancel me now!

It’s dumb-ass remarks like that which kept me out of the National Honor Society and also made me insanely wealthy. If I move to Brazil.

I graduated from Broad Run High School 21 years ago. That means, theoretically, I could be – each and every one of you – your father. And I’m speaking especially to the black and Asian students.

So now I’m going to try to give all of you some advice as if I contained fatherly wisdom, which I do not. I contain mostly caffeine, Cheet-o dust, fear and scotch.

I know most of you worked very hard to get here today but guess what? The Universe sent you a pasty goblin to welcome you into the world. Were The Greaseman and Arch Campbell not available?

So, 1987. That’s when I got my diploma. But I want to tell you something that happened the week before I graduated. It was life-changing, it was profound, and it was deeper than I realized at the time.

The week before graduation I strangled a hobo. Oh wait, that’s a different story. That was college. I’m speaking at my college later this month. I’ve got both speeches here. Let me sum up the college speech – always have a gallon of bleach in your trunk.

High school. A week before I graduated high school I had dinner, in Leesburg, with a local banker who was giving me a partial scholarship. I still don’t understand why. Maybe he had me confused with another student, someone who hadn’t written his AP English paper on comparisons between Jay Gatsby and Spider-Man. But, I was getting away with it, and I love money and food, so double win.

And I remember, I’m sitting at this dinner, with a bunch of other kids from the other local high schools. And I’m trying my pathetic best to look cool and mysterious, because I was 17 and so into the myth of myself. Remember, this dinner and this scholarship was happening to me.

And I figured this banker guy was a nice guy but hey, I’m the special one at the table. I had a view of the world, where I was eternally Bill Murray in Stripes. I’d be the one with the quips and insights at this dinner. This old man in a suit doesn’t have anything to teach me beyond signing that check. I’ve got a cool mullet and a skinny leather tie from Chess King. And check out my crazy suspenders with the piano keys on them. Have you ever seen Blackadder? ‘Cuz I’ll recite it.

And then this banker – clean-shaven, grey suit and vest – you’d never look twice at him on the street – he told me about The Five Environments.

He leans forward, near the end of the dinner, and he says to me, “There are Five Environments you can live in on this planet. There’s The City. The Desert. The Mountains. The Plains. And The Beach.

You can live in combinations of them. Maybe a city in the desert, or in the mountains by the ocean. Or you could choose just one. Out in the plains somewhere, perhaps.

“But you need to get out there and travel, and figure out where you thrive.

“Some places you’ll go to and you’ll feel yourself wither. Your brain will fog up, your body won’t respond to your thoughts and desires, and you’ll feel sad and angry.

“You need to find out which of the Five Environments are yours. If you belong by the ocean, then the mountains will ruin you. If you’re suited for the blue solitude of the plains, then the city will be a tight, roaring prison cell that’ll eat you alive.

He was right. I’ve traveled and tested his theory and he was absolutely right. There are Five Environments. If you find the right combination, or the perfect singularity, your life will click…into…place. You will click into place.

And I remember, so clearly, driving home from that dinner, how lucky I felt to have met someone who affirmed what I was already planning to do after high school. I was going to roam and blitz and blaze my way all over the planet.

Anywhere but here. Anywhere but Northern Virginia. NoVa. You know what a “nova” is? It’s when a white dwarf star gobbles up so much hydrogen from a neighboring star it causes a cataclysmic nuclear explosion. A cosmic event.

Well, I was a white dwarf and I was definitely doing my share of gobbling up material. But I didn’t feel like any events in my life were cosmic. The “nova” I lived in was a rural coma sprinkled with chunks of strip mall numbness. I had two stable, loving parents, a sane and wise little brother and I was living in Sugarland Run, whose motto is, “Ooooh! A bee! Shut the door!”

I wanted to explode. I devoured books and movies and music and anything that would kick open windows to other worlds real or imagined. Sugarland Run, and Sterling and Ashburn and Northern Virginia were, for me, a sprawling batter’s box before real experience began.

And I followed that banker’s advice. I had to get college out of the way but once I got my paper I lit out hard.

Oh this world. Ladies and gentlemen, this world rocks and it never lets up.

I’ve seen endless daylight and darkness in Alaska. I’ve swum in volcanic craters in Hawaii and saw the mystical green flash when the sun sinks behind the Pacific. I got ripped on absinthe in Prague and watched the sun rise over the synagogue where the Golem is supposedly locked in the attic. I stood under the creepy shadow of Christchurch Spitafields, in London’s East End, and sank a pint next door at The Ten Bells, where two of Jack the Ripper’s victims were last seen drinking. I’ve fed gulls at the harbor in Galway, Ireland. I’ve done impromptu Bloomsday tours of Dublin.

I cried my eyes out on the third floor of the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, all those paintings that Vincent and his circle have to each other as gifts because they were all broke some cold Christmas long ago. I’ve eaten crocodile in the Laneways of Melbourne Australia and ortolans on the Left Bank of Paris, France.

I’ve been to Canada.

I’ve been to every state in this country. I’ve been to hidden, subterranean restaurants in New York with the guys from Anthrax and eaten at L.A. taquieras with “Weird” Al Yankovic. I held the guitar that Hendrix torched at Monterey Pop and watched Woodstock ’99 burn to the ground. I’ve lingered at the corner of Bush and Stockton in San Francisco where Miles Archer took a bullet in The Maltese Falcon, and brooded over the grave of H.P. Lovecraft in Providence, R.I. I’ve hung out with Donny Osmond and Jim Goad, Suge Knight and Aimee Mann, Bill Hicks and Don Rickles.

I’ve done stand-up comedy in laundromats, soup kitchens and frat houses, and onstage at Lollapalooza and Coachella. I’ve toured with bands, been to the Oscars and the Superbowl, and been killed in movies by vampires, forest fires and air-to-air missiles.

And I missed the banker’s lesson. 100%, I completely missed it.

In my defense, he didn’t even know he was teaching it.

Telling me about the 5 Environments and urging me to travel? That was advice. It wasn’t a lesson. Advice is everywhere in this world. Your friends, family, teachers and strangers are all happy to give it.

A lesson is yours and yours alone. Some of them take years to recognize and utilize.

My lesson was this – experience, and reward and glory are meaningless unless you’re open and present with the people you share them with in the moment.

Let me go back to that dinner, 21 years ago. There I was, shut off from this wise, amazing old man. Then he zaps me with one of the top 5 pieces of information I’ve ever received in this life, and all I was thankful for was how it benefited me.

I completely ignored the deeper lesson which is do not judge, and get outside yourself, and realize that everyone and everything has its own story, and something to teach you, and that they’re also trying – consciously or unconsciously – to learn and grow from you and everything else around them. And they’re trying with the same passion and hunger and confusion that I was feeling – no matter where they were in their lives, no matter how old or how young.

I’m not saying that you guys shouldn’t go out there and see and do everything there is to see and do. Go. As fast as you can. I don’t know how much longer this world has got, to be honest.

All of you have been given a harsh gift. It’s the same gift the graduating class of 1917, and 1938, and 1968 and now you guys got – the chance to enter adulthood when the world teeters on the rim of the sphincter of oblivion. You’re jumping into the deep end. You have no choice but to be exceptional.

But please don’t mistake miles traveled, and money earned, and fame accumulated for who you are.

Because now I understand how the miraculous, horrifying and memorable lurk everywhere. But they’re hidden to the kind of person I was when I graduated high school. And now – and it’s because of my traveling and living and some pretty profound mistakes along the way – they’re all laid open to me. They’re mine for the feasting. In the Sistine Chapel and in a Taco Bell. In Bach’s Goldberg Variations and in the half-heard brain dead chatter of a woman on her cell phone behind me on an airplane. In Baghdad, Berlin and Sterling, Virginia.

I think now about the amazing thunderstorms in the summer evenings. And how – late at night, during a blizzard, you can stand outside and hear the collective, thumping murmur of a million snowflakes hitting the earth, like you’re inside a sleeping god’s thoughts.

I think of the zombie movies I shot back in the gnarled, grey woods and the sad, suburban punks I waited on at Waxie Maxie’s. I think of the disastrous redneck weddings I deejay’d for when I was working for Sounds Unlimited and the Lego spaceships my friends and I would build after seeing Star Wars.

I think about my dad, and how he consoled me when I’d first moved to L.A. and called him, saying I was going into therapy for depression, and how ashamed I was. And he laughed and said, “What the hell’s to be ashamed of?” And I said, “Man, you got your leg machine-gunned in Vietnam. You never went to therapy. Humphrey Bogart never went to therapy.” And my dad said, “Yeah, but Bogie smoked three cartons of cigarettes a day.” And how my mom came down to the kitchen when I was studying for my trig final, at 2 o’clock in the morning, and said, “Haven’t you already been accepted to college?” And I said, “Yeah, but this test is really going to be hard.” And she asked, “What’s the test for again?” And I said, “Calculus” and she closed my notebook and said, “You’ll never use this. Ever. Go to bed or watch a movie.” And how when I got my first ever acting gig, on Seinfeld, my brother sent me a postcard of Minnie Pearl, and he wrote on it, “Never forget, you and her are in the same profession.”

I didn’t realize how all of these places and people and events were just as crucial in shaping me as anything I roamed to the corners of the Earth to see. And they’ve shaped you, and will shape you, whether you realize it now or later. All of you are richer and wiser than you know.

So I will leave you with some final advice. You’ll decide later if this was a lesson. And if you realize there was no lesson in any of this, then that was a lesson.

But I’d like all of you to enter this world, and your exploration of the Five Environments, better armed then I was. And without a mullet. Which I see you’re all way ahead of me on.

First off: Reputation, Posterity and Cool are traps. They’ll drain the life from your life. Reputation, Posterity and Cool = Fear.

Let me put that another way. Bob Hope once said, “When I was twenty, I worried what everything thought of me. When I turned forty, I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. And then I made it to sixty, and I realized no one was ever thinking of me.” And then he pooed his pants, but that didn’t make what he said any less profound.

Secondly: The path is made by walking. And when you’re walking that path, you choose how things affect you. You always have that freedom, no matter how much your liberty it curtailed. You…get to choose…how things affect you.

And lastly, and I guarantee this. It’s the one thing I know ‘cause I’ve experienced it:

There Is No Them.

I’m going to get out of your way now. Get out there. Let’s see which one of you is up here in twenty years. If you’re lacking confidence, remember – I wouldn’t have picked me.

JET PACKS: FOR REAL

FINALLY. Of course, I can't imagine having $100,000 to drop on one of these babies, and I'm sure the gas mileage is atrocious (how about a hybrid, Glenn Martin?).

and yes, this is the best image I could find of the Arrested Development jet pack. Other than a youtube clip of the instructions, which would sort of be beside the point.

junk stuff

Ted Stevens indicted.
wow. This is a pretty big deal, though it's been a long time coming. It's going to make November a little more interesting, though, which frankly, it needs. I'm refusing to care about the PUSA election until early October at this point, so it's stuff like this to keep an eye on.

that is, of course, unless this case moves fast enough for Bush to Pardon him along with everyone else, including torturers, mass felons, and um...Michael Milken.

also, I have stated this before, but I love Barbara Boxer for many reasons, but speaking out on this EPA stuff is pretty important at this point, especially in California, who is trying to tighten up their own state environmental legislation without federal mandate and getting shot down.
I wonder if anyone will talk to investigators.

Olympic Fever! (sort of like Rubella)

Is it weird that I'm still excited for the Olympics? and not even just for the basketball. I like that I can barely remember the last summer games without thinking of a Bronze in b-ball and that one swimmer spitting into the other girl's lane. Oh, and Michael Phelps. I flipped through an issue of SI the other day that had like a 14 page photo spread of that guy. Okay, so that diminished my expectations some, but that also reinforced my belief that by avoiding TV and magazines like Sports Illustrated, I've immunized myself from the hype wear that surely would've ruined it for me months ago had I been watching/reading.
Sure, I've read about who's going to boycott the opening ceremonies. and I can understand that, really. But I'm not gonna miss that for anything. Are you kidding me? China? Do you have any idea how eager those people are to prove themselves in a high-profile even like this? I mean, you realize that they're risk everything to make this show awesome, right? Oh, and uh, FIREWORKS. If you still have a fireworks hangover or missing digits from the 4th, T.S. my friends. Because China is totally getting psyched up to remind us who invented them. Still not enough for you?
What about them CONTROLLING THE WEATHER? Seriously? Are you going to tell me that doesn't mystify and amaze you? Well, if must hurt to be reading the internet when you're made of wood.
Sure, China has a pretty spotty record with human rights violations. We all know this. But does anyone think that boycotting the Olympics is going to change that? I'm not sure who started the impression that the IOC is in a position to affect anything other than endorsement deals and who loots Detroit or wherever when they're not picked as an upcoming site. My point is, if you want China to acknowledge their horrific actions is to beat them the same way we beat the Nazis. By besting them in athletic competition after they describe us as genetically inferior. That's how it worked, right?*
In any case, the Olympics aren't about rooting for your country, or even about rooting against France. It's about picking out those teams on the opening night. The teams from Cameroon or somewhere like that, that only sent four athletes. THOSE are the people you root for. It's hard to earnestly root for the US teams when you see our athletes swarm the track that first night. Our guys make up like 40% of the total athletes there. So I mean the odds alone should have us bringing home more medals than we usually do anyway. Hey, I'm all proud of them and everything, but I always like the idea of of someone from a tiny country winning, and making their people swell with pride. Do we do that here? I'm not sure what the Olympics mean to the average person in terms of national pride, but I'd think it's just another reason to stare at Bob Costas and drink beer with the rings on the can. I mean, look at how well we treated Jesse Owens after he saved our asses. Anyway, just try to remember that it's fun to root for the underdog.

Anyway, I know that's rambling and incoherent. I've been away for awhile. Some other notes about these games:

• Wait, wouldn't it be even better if the Chinese female athletes totally bested all of their male athletes?
• Chinese Feline Death Camps? Okay, that's pretty fucked up right there. Still, I can't help but assume that Salt Lake City was firehosing homeless people and jive-talking bison out of Utah before the TV crews showed up there.
• I'd say the same thing for Afghanistan, but since their national sport involves riding on horseback with a goat carcass, they might be waiting awhile for that to be admitted into the games. Hell, I'm still waiting on the Caber Toss**.
• If nothing else, the Olympics is to remind us that Goldschläger is disgusting and should only be ingested as punishment on the biennial opening ceremonies, as I've done since Atlanta 12 years ago. My god that is depressing. So yeah, join me for that night of shame.
• um, did you see the Olympic mascots? HOLY CRAP DRAGONBALL!!! Though it's curious that they'd throw a Tibetan Antelope in there, isn't it? You'd think they'd be trying to divert attention from Tibet...
  

okay, it's late and I'm too tired to go into gymnastics (Romania!) and the futility of the Discus (look out for Gerd Kanter!), but I've still got a week or so to get into that. So until then, adopt a cat or something because that feline death camp thing is gonna give me nightmares.

* Seriously, though. If you're upset about the way China conducts themselves in with era human rights or environmental capacity, or if you wanna bitch about John Woo or whatever, don't expect an international sporting competition to be your outlet. Write a letter to your congressman or senator, or the head of Nike, or someone that they actually give a shit about. YOU should be doing something about it, not expecting this sort of thing to right itself when there's billions of dollars to be made. This pretty much goes for anything. If I can watch our State of the Union addresses, then I can certainly watch some insanely expensive Chinese eye candy ceremonies. I'll write letters about both, too.
**Hot Dog Fingers in no way endorses or even understands the Caber Toss. It seems like it would be pretty funny to watch. But then so, probably, would that goat thing.

via riotclitshave

Pet Cemetery Portland, OR

it was right next to the street, and I had to stop and wonder for a moment how many years these people have been living there. and how many of these pets were fish.