Last night, after dinner, I got some new (marked down!) kicks. The original pair I wanted is apparently only made for ladies. I like the colors, but thinking about it now kinda makes me think that while I used to wear every color imaginable, most of my clothing/accoutrement is of two color schemes: blue/gray and brown/orange. Also, right as I was getting ready for bed at like 2:30-3 AM, I saw a very drunk person stumbling all around the parking lot from the porch. After coming dangerously to cracking his head open a couple of times, he finally ended up swaying -then falling- into a little shrub/ivy patch that I personally see at least 2 dogs pee in every day.

I'm pretty sure he would've passed out there if my laughing hadn't startled him back up. So for once, by obnoxious tittering did something useful. Take that, 10th grade chemistry teacher!

It was pretty much the best thing I could've seen before going off the bed.

Guy Fawkes day!

Is the Indira Gandhi Planetarium the coolest looking building ever?

YES.

Not like that crazy-ass one in Bochum, Germany. Don't try to sell me the Legion of Doom! I know the goddamn Legion of Doom when I see it!

That Andre Agassi was using meth for awhile during his playing days? Kind of a shock.

That his crazy, untamed 90s hair was actually a wig? HOLY SHIT!

Ping Pong was never played again

via fffound

Off to the library. Will act aloof to any comments about my appearance.

update. a guy circled me for 5 minutes, and then asked what happened to my mouth. I blew it and told him that it was a costume. Next time, I should look concerned, then taste my (fake, "mint-flavored) blood and smile at him.

I feel like the glasses help to make it look more authentic. I should also startle easily.



There's like a 70% chance I'm not going to get dressed up tomorrow. But I enjoy this.

Umm.....

From my National Geographic picture of the day: Ultraviolet Bath, Russia

Eisenhower inspects the goods

No good picture for the morning, because it's still dark and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to fall back asleep in a few minutes.

So I propose to you: What sounds better, a tofu chair or a Tetris chair?

At first I thought the latter, because it looks so damned comfortable, but wouldn't you hate having a chair that you would always have to point out to new people that it's a chair? Besides, I'll sit in anything tetris.

back to bed.

"O walls, you have held up so much tedious graffiti that I am amazed that you have not already collapsed in ruin"

I've been reading some of the graffiti found on the walls at Pompeii. There's some pretty crude stuff to be found there (thought I did enjoy "'Secundus defecated here' three time on one wall"), as well as sweet sentiments and weird inanities. I wonder if anyone thought to bring this up during Koch's major anti-graffiti campaigns in the early 80s. Judging by the article I linked there, it might not have done any good.

Anyway, a nice little read to start your morning.

Apologies for the delay since my last post, school has been mercilessly kicking my ass (I cannot understate this, especially considering yesterday). I'll get back on some sort of posting schedule soon, I promise. After al, time is running out before I hit my big 1,000th post spectacular, right?

Anyway, here's a pic I snapped at 5 this morning. I don't know what made me think of doing this (certainly not the screen in the way of the shot), but it was a peaceful scene after what an intensely long and shitty day. Maybe I'll take another one when I get up at 4 tomorrow morning (today?) to register for my next semester's classes. Maybe I should just turn this blog into a series of photographs I take without leaving the apartment. They'd all be of the cat and the mountains.

To answer your question, yes, that is a ferris wheel. It does not work, and is actually not even a whole ferris wheel.

oops

Huh. I wonder how Specter felt when he first saw that?

So wow.... 1975 was pretty messed up

Was Captain Lou Albano really most famous for being in a Cyndi Lauper video? I can't help but think of that Super Mario show. Oh, and the two decades of pro wrestling.

anyway, Carrie and I were talking about him like 3 days ago, for some reason that escapes me now.

Also, Philadelphia Will Do had one of the best/and most infuriating sports posts ever the other day.

Hey, you wanna watch this Spider Woman motion comic, but don't want to spend $10 on iTunes like I did? The good news is you don't have to. It's upon Hulu now (all but the last part, which I expact will be up in a week). I still don't know how I feel about the final result, I will probably prefer the print version in the end, but it still is an interesting foray into a new medium. Alex Maleev's art looked better in the book, but it still looks great here. What are you complaining about, it's free.

BTW I broke down and have a twitter account. It is a source of great shame, but at least now I can pay attention to the Best Show feuds. My favorite person to follow so far? Tie between Jon Wurster and Roger Ebert.

and God giveth us rain

We finally got the rain I've been whining about missing for the past 6 months. It's a nice cloudy day and even though I'm stuck in a library, I'm determined to make the most of it, even circling the block a few times before entering to get to work.

It's a nice cool day, and I'm listening to the latest album from Richard Hawley, which has never sounded more sincere and beautiful.

So, a devout Christian goes to a Phillies game (apparently time traveling there from 1961), and here' what happens. 

The comments, though cruel, are pretty hilarious.

Watching The Friends of Eddie Coyle's Criterion edition, which I didn't even know was released back in May. It's been ages since I've seen this movie, and even longer since I read the book in college. This was released in 1973, not long before The Rockford Files started, and as I mentioned the other day, this feels like the last great era for really good crime stories that don't involve electronic surveillance, DNA tests, etc... There's a reason why Criminal (which is back, and still the best noir/crime stories being told today) is so ambiguous with the period in which it's set.

  Anyway, go see this movie. It's a great story, with Robert Mitchum simultaneously at his booziest and most judicious. Peter Boyle (who remains one of the most puzzling actors ever) meeting him step for step the entire time, and Steven Keats as the young punk gunrunner... it's really a classic crime movie, without any of the flash and pomp that seem to go with these stories a lot of the time.

So yeah, go rent that. 

Okay, I really, really need to get back to my paper.

 The coolest Google Map find ever?

via Emma From Toronto, response to Ted Leo's mind.

Watching The Long Goodbye and just made 2 stunning realizations: A) Henry Gibson just died and B) he was from Germantown. Huh.

Is this not the most adorable beer of all time?

(hint: it isn't)

So, I've got this real bad habit of getting wrapped up in some album or TV Series or film, and then writing the better part of a post and shelving it. It's not that my interest in these things wanes, or that I move on to other stuff before I get a chance to finish. More often than not I just can't finish or won't. I've got half-finished, long-winded posts about The Sandbaggers, Underbelly, Eye of the Needle, Friends of Eddie Coyle, three character analyses from The West Wing, and a couple others. A personal favorite is my lengthy rant on why I'm pretty sure that Guy Ritchie has never read a Sherlock Holmes story, but I'm waiting for the film on that one.
Anyway, a lot of the time it's because I'm sure these are points you might have felt, or stories you don't feel like revisiting, or that my own take on it isn't all that astute. Right now, one of the 6-7 books on my coffee table is a book of George Orwell's essays, which are both comforting and embarrassing to read, when I consider the crap dredge that gets thrown up on this thing. Because while I don't post a lot of things out of fear of appearing a self-important literary windbag, George Orwell manages to write these things in such an approachable, hospitable way that it leaves me dumbstruck.
But this is neither here nor there. Because I'm not writing about anything today that's critically adored or obscure. I'm not even writing about something that's all that unpopular. I'm referring, of course, to The Rockford Files, which aired on NBC from 1974-80. It's a show I never really watched as a kid, probably because it was off the air when I was 2, and unlike Columbo, I don't remember all that many reruns peppering the airways.
Jim Rockford fits some of the noir-ish standards for a detective. He's almost always at odds with the cops, he has a shady past (including a stint in prison as an innocent man), and he's got a real smart mouth that gets him into trouble. He's poor, and his home is a dilapidated trailer outside of LA on the Pacific Coast highway. Oh, and he seems to end up banging half of his female clientele.
He's still not quite noir, though. He generally avoids a fight, and almost never carries a gun (he keeps it in his coffee pot to avoid rust form the salt air!). He's a lot more genuine in his concern for clients than Marlowe ever would've been, and he often will end up working for free or at a reduced rate if he has to. Oh, and his dad is around all the time. I really like this last part, because his dad is a cheap old drunk who wants him to get out of the private eye racket. Oh, and unlike a lot of the old stories, Rockford isn't wearing a fedora and trenchcoat. If anything, he dresses cheap and garishly, which is to say, normal for the Seventies.
So why do I like this stuff? Why is it that after a decade of reading detective fiction and watching all those old black and whites that I find myself enamored with this program? A couple things. One is James Garner. There's just something about him that you want to root for. Ever since I was a kid and saw him as Hendley the scrounger in The Great Escape, I've enjoyed that guy. I remember going through a Maverick phase at some point, too. There's also the time period. One of the reasons that the seventies work so well for crime/detective stories, is because it's the last really good time frame for this type of story. I guess the Eighties might work as well, but something about that decade I find hard to take seriously. Maybe it would have to be all about drugs, or funny hairstyles.
But anyone my age or younger will view this show as impossible. There's no way that someone could get away with some of the things that go on here. Part of it is technology, part of it is people wising up to giving personal information out, etc... To write a good detective story set in the last ten years is to write... I dunno, to write like Ed Burns and David Simon.
The bottom line is that I'm amazed how much I enjoy a network TV show that's older than I am and isn't hosted by Rod Serling. It's a testament to our pop culture. But the best part is that you can go watch this for free right now. There are at least 3 seasons up on Hulu, and the entire run of the series is up on Netflix. So go check it out if you're bored one night and watching some shitty celebrity dance show. Seriously, you can do better than that. If you don't watch TV, hey, more power to you. But I know most of you do, and watch some pretty appalling stuff. Just my 2 cents. This show has car chases! Non-Italian mob bosses! Pretty ladies! Awesome celebrity cameos (so far, Abe Vigoda, a young James Woods, Bill Mumy, Strother Martin, Ned Beatty, Lindsay Wagner, etc...), oh and one of the best theme songs EVER.

if you haven't seen it yet, go watch an episode. It's been making my week.

When I first moved to CA, I used to laugh at everyone that would be wearing sweaters and the like when it was like 70 degrees out. It just seemed so unnecessary. But here I am, in the same weather, putting on a hoodie. I sort of caught myself doing it, and then realized that I wasn't even cold, it was just cool enough justify putting sleeves on. It's been an absurdly long summer (since late April or so?), and one without a single drop of rain. As someone who hates wearing shorts, I haven't had much wiggle room as far as clothing selection, especially with a wardrobe far more suited to the East coast. Maybe it's the fact that I've had this brand new Sixers hoodie that I got super cheap just waiting in my closet to be worn. Of course, I prefer the cold weather. I'd much rather want to throw on an extra layer than want to remove a layer of my own skin. So maybe it makes sense that in some weird way I'm hoping to usher in the cold(er) weather by dressing the part for it. Of course, I won't be so lucky. It's supposed to be back up in the mid-80s by next week, and nary a drop in the forecast. I think that drop would be the most revitalizing piece of precipitation that ever fell to the ground like manna from the heavens.

Maybe it'll show up by Thanksgiving.

It's kinda sad that between the opening of the Phillies' playoff series and the opening of the Sixers' preseason, I'm more excited about the latter. Right?

Especially when one is the reigning champs and the other might well struggle to get into the playoffs at all. Either way...

World's Tallest Rocket: Taking Off!

Bitchin'!

Excuse the grainy/blurry photos, which I surprisingly did not take with my cell phone.  The demo derby was a lot of fun, as was the crowd watching there. It's hard to say you've lived if you've never seen a grown man scream at the top of his lungs "behind you!" to a guy in a running car, 250 yards away, and in the middle of the loudest field on earth.

I have to say that I still don't understand the scoring and tactics of the game, but I suspect that very few in attendance did. I did pick the winner of the second round, though. The girl in the pink car (below), who managed to get through the thing with barely a scratch on her car. Good for her.

I've got a whole bunch of photos I need to go through, and I might put some more up later, but right now I'm scrambling to make up for lost time with school work. I also got some more fair pics I wanna post after the weekend, including pics of my adopted goat. His name is Hefe.

A reference colleague related the following anecdote. In the course of teaching a reference workshop she would hold up photos of users, and the attendees would provide a background profile for them. She showed them a photo of an older gentleman in a plaid flannel shirt with his white hair sticking out at odd angles. Every public librarian in attendance identified the user as a homeless man. every academic librarian in the audience saw a professor emeritus.

- Julie Hersberger, "The homeless and information needs and services"

I think anyone who's ever been here knows my love of English Russia. I don't get there every day, since I find it incredibly time-consuming, given the simplicity of the site. It's not just the complete insanity of the commenters there (this is the only site I actually read the comments on), or the awesome cultural weirdness, but also the way you get to see all of these little things about the Soviet era that would've been swept under the rug of history were it not for the downfall of the regime. The submarine bases at Sevastopol, the Road of Bones, etc...
What's even more amazing is that these things are still there. The USSR ran out of money, and never bothered to cover these things up. Here, the greatest of efforts are made to urge the population to forget about our previous mistakes, and instead to focus on our triumphs, regardless of where they came from*.
So I was pretty shocked to discover on Mental Floss this morning that remnants of Manzanar are still there. Manzanar was one of the "relocation centers" to which we herded the Japanese-Americans on the West coast following the attack on Pearl Harbor. Interestingly enough, Japanese-Americans living in Hawaii at the time were relatively unmolested.
Anyway, I knew that it was made a National historic Site in the nineties, but I had no idea that any of it was still there. It just seems like the sort of thing we would bulldoze, put up a modest marker, and then move on. And while I'm sure they were pressured into doing so, I'm still happy to see that something was done. I have a friend whose parents were interned, and the stories she told me were awful. I like to see that we still wear this black eye.

Anyway, head over to Mental Floss to see the site as it looks today.

It's a road trip I should really consider making, and I guess that "I don't like driving through the desert" isn't really a viable excuse...

*It'll be curious in October, when we're celebrating the moon landing, if much mention is made that the space program which revitalized our national pride was the ultimate result of Nazi scientists and their slave labor. One of the reasons that we've prospered so much as a nation is that we've lifted technologies and methods from every culture around the world. Doesn't it strike you as odd that we feel obligated as a nation to be so proprietary about these ideas?

Cheese steak at Philly West. Not bad at all! Followed that up with n amazing night at Largo, a beer in Echo Park overlooking the city, and then a late breakfast, and you have one of the nicest nights I've ever had.

Beef squashed?

Okay, so I am positive that I've mentioned the Adidas/Puma rivalry and where it stems from on this site, but the search function appears to have lost it and I'm a little angry about it right now. The wheels come off at 961 posts, it would seem.

Anyway, it looks like a tentative step towards (sneaker) peace has been made, with Puma and Adidas employees holding a charity soccer match on Global (sneaker) Peace Day.

Not exactly ground-shaking, but still a nice thing to see.

Seriously, I'm wondering if those posts have been disappeared? I think it was also about the rivalry in the Houses of Huddle and Waffle. It might be time to pack up the tent and mosey on over to somewhere else. Maybe I'll switch at an even 1,000 posts. So look forward to 38 more posts about comic books and pictures of animals pooping!

okay, I updated that link to the mix. Everything should work fine if it didn't earlier. Sorry for the confusion

I don't know if you guys have noticed it, but English Russia has been killing it lately. A couple of weeks ago, they had these great old comic books listed*, and there seems to be quite a number of pagan-themed posts going on as well. Today, though, there's some photos of Lena's Stone Pillars, which is just one of the most amazing things I've ever laid eyes on. Anyway, check it out!

Incidentally, you'd be crazy to think that the pic I posted yesterday of a tank in a sunflower field wasn't from ER, but I actually found it while flipping through an old book and then scanned it.

*I've had that saved in a toolbar for weeks now and never got around to posting it. Apologies!

I have no idea where I found this, but check out this interactive graph of the American labor force from 1850-2000. I played with it for a while earlier and it's worth checking out for a little, even if it is a little scary in some ways...

http://flare.prefuse.org/launch/apps/job_voyager

Abandoned Russian tank on the Eastern front, WWII.

strangely gratifying....

Orange Herald

prepared for test at the Christmas Island Grapple series on 31 May 1957. Yield was 720 kT. The spherical implosion device is seen in this photograph housed in the centre section of a Blue Danube carcass with the nose, tail and panelling removed. The 32-lens implosion system can be clearly seen. The firing unit adapted from Blue Danube can be see at the top left attached to the tubular bulkhead, and with 64 cables radiating from it. Each of the 32 firing cables was duplicated.

huh. Pretty fun.

This whole story about the Phillies ball is pretty sweet, and a lot more in tune with Philly sports crowds than the most peoples' perception, so I'm all for it.

Plus, Judge Stiles gets quoted!

Who's Next?

Who's Next?

1. "Do you believe in the monsters?"
2. "Kiss With a Fist" - Florence and the Machine
3. "Can You Get to That?" - Funkadelic
4. "Lalita" - The Love Language
5. "Carly Simon" - The Haints
6. "Hope Dies Last" - Magnolia Electric Co.
7. "Going Back to Mexico" - Lula Reed
8. "March of the Dawn" - The Mummers
9. "Tattoo" - Petra Haden
10. "Look Back in Anger" - Television Personalities
11. "It's a Gas!"
12. "Deliverance" - Avenue A
13. "Indian War Whoop" - Hoyt Ming and his Pep Steppers
14. "There Goes a Girl" - Johnny Truitt
15. "The Grips" - Benjy Ferree
16. "The Last Kiss" - Aidan Moffett and the Best-Ofs
17. "Nothing but a Heartache" - The Flirtations
18. "You Know My Name (Look Up the Number)" - The Beatles
19. "Ingredients"

So, I haven't gotten to any of the correspondence that I've been waiting to get to, but I have had the bulk of this mix sitting on my desktop for the past 2 months. Some of this is very old and you might well hae heard a lot of it, but it's been played pretty steadily around here lately. This is a little more whimsical than most of my mixes tend to be, but I think it's still worth listening to. But then, that's your call.

download here.

updated link, for anyone having trouble with the last one

People Who Died: Jim Carroll

I just found out about this because I've been away from the internet for like three days. I've always enjoyed his work, from when my stoner English teacher gave me a copy of Book of Nods when I was in 9th grade onwards. He wrote a lot of crap, don't get me wrong. But his work that I like is amazing. I always enjoyed his second diary, Forced Entries, and I think I'll read it again while I have a few days off. Anyway, he'll be missed.

In the Finals that year, he compiled as complete a finish as you'll ever see when he registered a 3-pointer, a free throw, a steal, two rebounds and an assist on the go-ahead layup in the final three minutes of Game 5

Congratulations, John Stockton

I think I need a new nickname...


That could probably use some explaining. It came up in a search earlier. I'm in like hour 20 of working on my last final of the quarter, and I'm listening to a lot of Springsteen. This wasn't intended, just one of those things where I thought about it for a second, and then 20 years later I'd downloaded a bunch of old shows to help me get through the night.

At some point, my dad's favorite song came up. This is no surprise, Bruce played it almost every show. Still, it got me a little saw and since I'm working online, I was wondering if there are any pictures of him on the internet.

This is weird, and something I've never done. I don't keep many pictures, and I've gone to considerable lengths to keep pictures of me form being taken, let alone posted on the internet, but that's a different story. Anyway, my dad was different. He belonged to organizations and did charity work and for years was a township commissioner. So I was surprised when only one picture came up. I was even more surprised when I realized it was for one of my mom's high school reunions. and I just sank in my chair when I saw the picture.

It was late into the cancer. You hear people talk about it sometimes like they'll never forget watching their loved ones shrink away. That it's etched into your mind the way they just vanish so slowly. That's entirely true. It's long and shitty and you hate yourself for making the faces you make when you see them.

But what you never really hear about is what happens afterward. Or at least I didn't ever hear about it. Almost immediately, my memory just skipped over itself and the image of my father as this frail, fading man was practically gone. Almost as if by elastic, my mental image of him snapped back to the way he appeared my whole life before then. I can picture him with beard, without, whatever. Just there, you know? Actually tangible and not a whisper of the man who raised me. Of course, this is a good thing. I'm going to remember him the best way I can, and that hardly includes when he could barely speak from the pain. I guess this is some sort of cosmic right that allows people to cope easier. I'm grateful for it.

So seeing this picture was a blow for me. I haven't seen many of them, because frankly it's too fucking hard. The mercy of not seeing him like that was suddenly robbed of me for a few more minutes.

and I started to think about how unfair it is that it someone who didn't know him were to start looking for a picture of him right now, that's what would show up. It really upset me. Of course, he wouldn't care, and I'm not sure I should. But still, I m going to.

I have to get back to work, though. I cannot stop and think about this now, but I promise that first thing tomorrow I'm going to put up a better picture of him and then tag the hell out of it so that maybe google image won't be such a dick about things.

Anyway, that's all I got. Back to work. My dad would be pissed if he knew I put this stuff down for a half hour.

Anyway, cheerier stuff to come, I promise.

"We are all mutants", say scientists

probably my favorite headline of all time.

I know, I should be working on wrapping up Final #2. Well, I'm closing in on that. Halfway finished and have most of the research all lined up.

That didn't stop me from checking out Mental Floss on a study break.

When I hear the term Victorian, I tend to think of architecture. After that, it's Jack the Ripper, chimney sweeps, child labor, etc... you know, the fun stuff. But lately, what I'm realizing is that I should really just equate "Victorian" with "creepier than a haunted sanitarium".

I should point out that I don't mean that the Victorian-dressed goth kids are creepy. In fact, I admire their tenacity, especially in a subculture that has let itself go to a depressing (no pun intended) degree. I have no inclination to put on a corset and pointy hat and carry around a lace umbrella, but I respect that decision. At least more than the decision to wear ten year old Marilyn Manson t-shirts accompanied by a leash and acne.

But that's neither here nor there. Because what I'm talking about is the everyday Victorian-era items that are routinely used to terrify me. Like baby carriages, medical equipment, and the super-creepy practice of port-mortem photography. I mean, I get it, and I can sort of understand that having a portrait, any portrait of the deceased might be a valuable memento. I get that.

But Mental Floss went the extra mile by showing me a number of post-mortem pictures in which the deceased is posed as if they are awake and alive. Sometimes, retinas are painted on their eyelids.

I think I can blame a lot of my vear of all things Victorian on the slew of horror movies that make great use of these props (and often nothing else), but I still have nobody to blame but you, dead people of the era, for this insanity.

for shaaaaaaame.

Now I'm supposed to try and sleep? Great.

So, I just handed in the first of my 3 exams, and I've made myself an old-fashioned while I watch Mad Men to calm myself down from the crack-like symptoms of post-examity. I went out onto the porch for a minute, and for the first time so far, it actually smells like burning outside. Not like burning leaves or any of the other September burning smells I'm used to (including those from Mad Men tonight), but like burning earth. The fire is still far enough from me that I'm not to concerned, but still one thought enters my mind:


I've had dreams like this

it's going to be a long week.

Bomb shelter pictures!

These are from a book of Photographs taken by Richard Ross of one of my favorite things: bomb shelters.

While I don't have the time to ruminate right now, click on over and take a peek. They're pretty awesome.

Say what you will about Ted Kennedy. He was the last of a dynasty, he was the "lion of the senate", chappaquiddick, etc...

the fact is, he got more legislation passed than any of his brothers ever did.

I, like much of my generation, was raised to worship John and Bobby, but at the end of the day, they died before they ever got the change to make the difference they wanted. As a professor I had once stated, JFK never came close to LBJ when if comes to civil rights legislation. that's a fact. Even Bobby (my favorite of the bunch), never got the chance.

While Teddy didn't have the clime to have the same impact that his brothers dreamt of, he still accomplished more than they ever would. The guy reached colossal levels of influence (and I can complain as much as anyone the reasons that put him there), and he made the most of it. when he got sick a couple of years ago, everyone expected him to lie low and expect him to go gentle. But no, he decided instead to work through things. This isn't as common in the US Senate as you would think it is. So stop and give him a moment of your time. Believe me, regardless of your beliefs, he deserves it. I'm sure the next few days, he'll receive a lot of glad-handing, and her deserves it, but remember that he was more important to the Democratic party than anyone since Tip O'Neill. Which says far more than I can put into words than ever after just getting home from the bar. But if you care about bipartisanship, if you care about Irish-Americans, if you care about the little guy, shut up and respect for a minute.

He was always that great combination of the influence and te smarts/influence that we've sought in a leader, with the real background desired of a policy maker. He was never perfect, but always there for us over 37 years, and I like to think he was the one who made more of a difference than anyone else.

We like to think that the President is who gets things done. While he (so far) is who guides policy, it is the stalwarts in the Senate who really have a say. In that regard, there are few in US history who've had the impact of TK. He was there through the bulk of if, and though he wasn't there for everything I wish he was, he was still there. He is of that generation that made for the greater good. and I promise you that both sides will miss him.

that's all.

As a big fan of public-domain, early 20th century science fiction, it pleases me to know that they're making a Princess of Mars movie. I think it should to be pretty interesting, and perhaps followed up by 9 or 10 repetitive, but nonetheless entertaining sequels. I'm also excited by Dominic West playing Sab Thar (what's up with his role choices lately? Did he attend villain school after the Wire?), though I'm thinking they're going to have to CGI the shit out of this production. What I'm terrified of is that they're going to try to update this in some ultra-sleek, action packed movie, which is just sorta wrong and weird. Which isn't to say I don't shudder at the thought of a steampunk-inspired movie, either. But I guess it don't count as steampunk if it's set on Mars, does it? I guess the best course of action would be to just read the damn books. They're each like 60 pages long.
One of the things I always enjoyed about the books is just how surreal the whole planet is described, especially its' inhabitants, which range from dog-like creatures to a variety of civilizations spanning the planet. I always liked that notion that Martians, despite having advanced technology, still can't get their shit together enough to stop fighting with each other. Good on Edgar Rice Burroughs for including racism in outer space.

alright, back to work for me.

Eric Bruntlett!

This isn't a normal way for a cat to sit, right?

Though, I detest Philadelphia Magazine (and pretty much all of its ad-heavy overblown counterparts in other cities), there's a pretty interesting article in the new issue about what's happened to the Philly mob.

It's been a long time since they blew up the Chicken Man...

Whatever happened to the South Philly Mob?

(via Secret Dead)

National Geographic's picture of the day

See those mountains in the banner up top? Here's how they look today. Go smog.

I've been working constantly on web development and cataloging for the last... ugh, I don't even know. But I got real ambitious at 3 AM this morning and began a post about Mat Fraction's recent open letter to Philip K. Dick (as featured in the most recent issue of the comic adaptation of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep), Pink Floyd (particularly 1977's Animals, and the box art for the old Atari game Defender. As you can imagine, it was the sort of thing that will take me at least a few hours to write, and at the moment, I don't have that sort of time. I did get most of the ideas down, though, and I look forward to wrapping it up. In the meantime, though, I need to do some more work on Cutter numbers (seriously, I hate these things) and pretend I don't want to ram a darning needle into my ear.

I know this is kind of an empty post. Consider it a placeholder of sorts. But in the meantime, go here and check out some of the other Atari art. It's astounding to think about how much more entertaining this art is than the actual games were. Considering how many dumb movies have spawned from video games, I think we could get a good decade out of this stuff. Missile Command? Totally. Dodge 'Em? Oh, hell yes. Super Breakout? Holy shit, make it now. How did that art even come around? what about that game made you think "astronaut tennis"? It doesn't matter, I want Michael Bay's dumb ass working on it, stat.

Anyway, I'm gonna have a little break in a few weeks, at which point I'm going to flood this thing with poignant and well-considered posts. Or at least ones that don't trail off into nowhere.

and thus I find myself in the completely unexpected role of defending Michael Vick. As someone who is almost absurdly fond of animals and will readily admit that he's the least dedicated male football fan he knows, I can say it's a strange position.

Still, I can't pretend to be outraged by the Eagles' choice to sign Mike Vick. He's a talented guy and they got him for cheap. and I while I'm horrified by what happened at his house or farm or whatever, I also believe in second chances and rehabilitation. Vick did what he did (and while I read those initial reports, I'm not going to pretend to know just how involved he was in the whole thing), and he got caught and then punished for it. He got punished more than anyone has ever been punished for a crime like that. His fame and money put him in front of a bus, and he paid the fines and served his time. He lost a fortune and two of the most profitable years of his life, and I haven't heard him complain once.

Look. I'm sure that Vick regrets his little dogfighting adventure more than anyone. And I'm even more sure that considering the scrutiny, he's not going to think about so much as sneezing towards an animal for the foreseeable future.

So I'm fine with signing Vick. Shit, we have a better chance now than we did yesterday, right? Vick didn't circumvent the law. He didn't manipulate jurors. He did his time and how he's ready to play ball again. Good for him. and good for us.

I can't blame the Eagles for signing him. On the contrary, they'd be foolish to pass up on the offer. They're not condoning what he did. They're not harboring some unrepentant killer. They're giving the guy a second chance. and while I'm proud of the progressive mindset, I think it has far more to do with the Eagles organization's desire to win, and I'm just as proud of that. I want my team to have that desire. I want them to be willing to do almost anything to win, aside from cheating or doping or whatever. If you take a few knocks from PETA, so be it. There were worse people in the NFL than Vick 3 years ago, and there are worse people than him there today. I think he knows what he has ahead of him, and I hope we can help him do it. and maybe we'll impress everyone in the process.

update: there's a good article by John Gonzalez here that does a good job of summing up what you just read here. I'm pretty sure he wrote his first.

I am not ready for this

Rick Santorum seen skulking around Iowa.

hurk

this is one of the most disgusting things I've ever seen.

enjoy!

okay, I'm not going to brag/complain about my lo-tech razors anymore:

In the 4th century BC, Alexander the Great encouraged his men to shave so enemies couldn’t grab their beards during melees. Alexander’s subjects were often shaved using a novacila, a block of iron with one edge sharpened, which sounds like a great way to shred your face.

Julius Caesar supposedly preferred to have his beard plucked out with tweezers, although other Roman men used razors or rubbed the beards from their faces using pumice stones. (Ouch!)

I can't begin to imagine the razor (pumice?) burn these guys must've gone through...

So, I've been taking this quiz (cataloging, which a lot harder than I ever would've expected to be) on and off all day, and while I'm doing this I'm going through these big stacks of blank or unidentifiable CDs that I have. They go back at least 10 years, which means that they go back almost as long as I've had access to a CD burner. 1998? It was something like that. Anyway, It was such a revelation at the time, and years of crafting and shaping these mix tapes, I was blessed with the ability to make a mix in 5 minutes to last me exactly one walk to work. Thinking about it now, it's the first time I really could just dump a bunch of songs somewhere for later listening. I mean, I could do it with tapes, but it never really made sense, because two weeks later, I'm driving around listening to the damned thing and hating every other song, but still forced to listen to it because I didn't have a CD player in the accord.

But suddenly, I could go to the computer lab at Pitt, download 20 songs right there, browse Addicted to Noise* while I slap 'em on a CD, and then I'm walking out the door listening to them ten minutes later. The problem is that the files would never be labeled well, and I'd have no idea what I was listening to most of the time. This was also at a time, mind you, when the internet was a lot less slick than it is now. Even looking at the ATN sheets linked above I sorta cringed without even realizing. Like watching old basketball or football footage and when they flash the score at the bottom of the screen, you think "how did those neanderthals ever get by without graphics of little animated players or robots to deliver the score?". And then you realize that you were 15 when that game took place and you realized that yes, things do move by that fast sometimes. But I digress. Where was I?

Oh, the CDs. Yeah, they're mostly these last-minute collections of unlabeled songs, sometimes half a CD by one artist, and the rest of the disc crammed with whatever else I could find at the time. There was so much flotsam on the internet then for me. I wasn't thinking about discovering new bands through the internet just yet (and to be fair I'm not sure I was alone there), but I would exhaust every band I'd ever loved up until then looking for rarities and b-sides and the like. One year I think I made 50 CDs that had A) Beck covering a Rolling Stones song, B) something from the Matador website, or C) Ween's "Booze Me Up of Get Me High". What a weird time.

Anyway, I'd make them at work. I'd make them in the library. I'd make them for a drive just up to Wawa. and I rarely throw them out, because I forget if there's anything I want on them. I can also pretty much narrow them down to what year I made them, because for some reason there's been a pattern to what brand/type of CD I've used changing every year since 2000.

and it's nice. it's filling in these little blanks and forcing me to look up songs by googling the lyrics (yes, while I'm taking this quiz. Smart, right?), songs I would've never thought to revisit on my own. As I write this, I'm listening to what I'm pretty sure is a New Order cover (and an awful one at that) from somewhere around 2001. Then it'll go into Bob James and then something that I think is the Karl Hendricks Trio (who are still together!?) , but I can't be certain. It's like these little, clumsily-arranged time capsules left for myself.

What I should do, is arrange a CD of my favorite songs of the year, not label any of them, and then listen to it 10 years later and see how many I know right away. Hell, I guess I already am.

so that's what I'm up to. I've been writing so much about the internet lately for two of my classes that I'm sorta shocked my mind went here on it's own. Two themes for my online class discussions this week: The first was more or less the internet will destroy us all, once it's plugged into OUR BRAINS (trust me, I've seen a lot of movies). The second, and I'm quoting, was "The Library of Congress: Kinda racist, right?" Both were a little ridiculous, but both of them have spawned some interesting conversation, and that was the point, right?

anyway, I'm going to turn this devil box off and go watch some old-fashioned television. Now playing that Grand Funk Railroad song that Chief Xcel sampled for that song on Soleside's Greatest Bumps.

Have a wonderful week, everyone.

*holy shit, look at that list of artists! Ani DiFranco + Turntablism!!

Little known fact: Option Magazine had Thurston Moore on the cover of every single issue they printed in that 5 or 6 years.

This picture has been sitting in my bookmarks for months, and I think at some point I was going to make a mix called "Battletruck". I never got around to it (though I will be posting a new mix sooner than later), but I can't let this graphic go to waste. Thus, BATTLETRUCK.

Squeaky Fromme...free?

You know shit's just gonna go south now...

Flames consume a replica of the 17th-century flagship Prins Willem in Den Helder, northern Netherlands, early Thursday, July 30, 2009.

via riotclitshave
(also this one, which I love:)

Go check out some Russian space program snapshots at English Russia, because... wait, do you need a reason for that? If so, you really shouldn't be here...

For the first time in, I dunno, 18 years or so, my hair is turning blond again. So's my "beard", for that matter. I put beard in quotations because basically what I have is completely accidental and more a result of it being too hot to shave and my only having what could generously be described as the worst razors ever made. I don't mind using a 2-bladed razor. In fact, that's all I've ever used. But having those blades spring-mounted makes a huge, huge difference.

just ask my neck.

so what's next in my changing appearance? Perhaps glasses? I can't be that far off by now. An eyepatch? That might not be out of the question, either. I'd suggest a neck brace, but that seems awfully restricting.

There's one thing I can promise you: It won't be a mustache or any other ironic facial hair.

I considered posting a picture of this, but I've long decided that I'm too old to be taking cell phone pictures of myself in a bathroom mirror.

Steven Spielberg is remaking Harvey.

That is all.

The San Diego Zoo. I only took one picture, but I like it well enough.

The best part of this trip was when looking at the koalas (who, not surprisingly, were all asleep) and one started shaking for a second. I thought he was going into a convulsion or something, but it turns out he was just pooping from his tree branch.

He then scratched himself and went back to sleep.

This Sestak vs. Specter battle continues, with Arlen commanding a pretty solid lead.

I'm still not exactly sure why.

I didn't think I'd ever see this again...

Lonesome George: bangin' around

A couple years ago I talked here about Lonesome George, the last of the Galápagos Pinta tortoises. Well, it turns out he might be a daddy! Let's hope that these eggs give birth to adorable little turtles and that ol' George is progressive enough not to hold the fact that they're half Espanola. He's an old guy, after all. It's be nice to see him with the times.

It's been a long time coming...

...but the day has finally arrived.

HAPPY RICKEY HENDERSON DAY!!

That's right, perennial HDF favorite Henderson is getting inducted into the MLB Hall of Fame today, so take a moment and thank your local batshit professional athlete for all the good times. It's their day!

My stomach actually hurts from laughing at the Best Show this week. I still have 45 minutes left to listen to it, but listening to Tom and Paul F. Tompkins talk about the Gathering of the Juggaloes had my unable to breathe for a while. Unfortunately, it's slowing my work down, but it's a small price to pay...

Dear Hansen Beverage Company,

I would like to say that this is a fictional letter congratulating you on the quality of your product, or the business practices you've taken on out of concern for your customers. That's all well and good, and I say keep up the good work there. No, I've got a larger concern. Namely, your products -all of them, from your ginger ale to the radioactive sludge known as Monster energy drink, are fucking gross.
I've tried so hard to find a product of yours I like. You see, I used to drink soda all the time. You know those kids that aren't allowed to have sugar? I was like the opposite of that. I drank at least 3-4 of them a day, and loved it. Then, sometime in college, I really just started hating the taste of it. I tried all sorts of replacements, but in the end I had to go with sparkling water because there was nothing else.
When I found your products, I was ecstatic because I thought I might be able to enjoy some ort of soda again. Alas, it was not to be. For you see, unlike your regular customers, I don't like the taste of carbonated tree bark and squirrel farts. Strange, I know, but what can you do? I've tried no less than 5 different types of your soda, and all of them have this unpleasantness. The other night, I saw that you're making a Cranberry/Grapefruit soda. I thought to myself "alright, this is for me. There's no way I can not like this". Four minutes later, I was spitting it out into the sink and wondering how the hell you could've dropped the ball on that. It might've been the Splenda. Listen, I'm okay with sugar. If I was eating grapefruits and cranberries, there'd be sugar in them. All part of the... fruit game. So there's no reason to dump that lousy fake-ass sugar in there.
So Hansen's you just made the list. That's right, the brands-that-are-dead-to-me list. It's a short one, inhabited mostly by companies with nutjob lunatic fringe owners or ones that are Colorado-based beer companies. and you.
So sod off, Hansen. I've given you too many shots and I got boned by every one of them. NO MORE.

HOLY SHIT!!!

Family Guy is nominated for an Emmy (Family Guy!??!??)

Also:
Weeds is a comedy? United States of Tara? How do you nominate one guy over the other from Flight of the Conchords?

Feh.

However, after the Prego commercial aired on television in 1985, Wendy's mananagement decided to terminate her contract, contending that the Prego commercial "infers that Clara found the beef at somewhere other than Wendy's restaurants".

Just reading Clara Peller's wikipedia page (don't ask) and thought this line was too good to ignore.

Not much going on today; I'm in the middle of a quiz, but if you're sitting around and want something to listen to, go here and check out the second part of J-Rocc's (of the World Famous Beat Junkies) series of James Brown cuts. It's making my late afternoon and maybe it'll help brighten your day a little.

Stop and think for second how awesome Maceo Parker is. Because the dude can play.