Tuun-La: Not of This Earth

The same. sort of.

i was at the mall when it happened

So after working on it for about 6 of my last 8 waking hours, I've managed to put together one mix. I have the other one three-quarters done, but don't hold your breath for it because this one was goddamned infuriating to make. I like it a lot, though, and haven't gotten tired of listening to any of these songs despite having to re-load and re-sequence them more times than I care to think back on. The forthcoming mix will have some older stuff on there and hopefully not as many creepy samples, but I'm not going to make any promises on that latter point. I know this posting has been erratic lately, and the link fever of yesterday was probably annoying if not frustrating with the same-colored font. Pretty much everything with a chip in it lately has been acting up on my in the last week or two, including my brain and robotic arm. Also, it looks like I won't get to go to the demolition derby tonight because I gotta do something for work, so boo on that. Anyway, I'm hoping this thing will load okay for you, and the artwork seems to have messed me up some, but the biggest problem is that the sound quality is sort of screwy. I didn't mix this all together because I know some people won't like some of these songs here, but as a result things can go from very loud to very quiet and I just wanna give you the heads up.
Anyways, enjoy. It's slit up into 2 parts again because Mediafire doesn't like me. Those bastards. The title is from a Doug Coupland end-of-the-world story.

i was at the mall when it happened

-
On That New Thing - Madlib
We're a Winner - Curtis Mayfield & The Impressions
Lamb of the Lam (In the City) - Band of Horses
No Time to Chill (f. Little Brother) - 9th Wonder
Tea Leaf Dancers -Flying Lotus
Heavyweight Champion of the World - Reverend & the Makers
Could Be Worse - Eef Barzelay
-
What'd I Say - Elvis Presley
Aretha, sing One for Me - George Jackson
The Sweeping Wind (Kwa Ti Feng) - Jonathan Richman & the Modern Lovers
Mercy, Mercy - Don Covay
The Hand that Leads You - Percee P
-
Accordian for Raj - Madlib
Heartbreak - Celebration
Backed Out in the... - Kevin Drew
Window - Double Deuce
-
I'm Sorry for Saying I'm Sorry - The Arrivals
Wrigley Scott - Future of the Left
Setting Vs. Rising - Sunset Rubdown
-
Children of War - Buffalo Killers
I Wish I Knew (How It Would Feel To Be Free)
-

total run time: 1:01:23

Part 1
Part 2

The Dog Shouterer

Want a lick? PSYCH!

Last night we were at the bar talking with a guy and his dog, which was adorably reminiscent of a bear cub. Anyway, as we're hanging out and having a beer or two, this guy stumbles out of the bar (I'm pretty certain that 2 of his friends were just thrown out of the bar) and kneels down in front of the dog and looks up at us, slurring "Watch this! Watch this! My cousin is Cesar Romero!"
All 3 of us: "who?"
Guy: "Cesar Romero"
Me: "The guy who played the Joker?"
Guy: "No, the dog whisperer, man!"
Dog Owner: "I think his name is Cesar Millan"
Guy: "I think I know what my cousins name is"
Then he proceeds to shout in this little dogs face and struggle to maintain upright for a few minutes. At one point he loses his balance and smacks his head on the side of the building. His friends are yelling back at him telling him to hurry up.
Guy (to his friends): "Goddamnit in a minute!I'm doing my dog trick" (and then back to us) "watch this" This went on for a few more minutes. Then the drunk guys ran their friend into a plate glass window (it didn't break) and got in a truck and drove off. Terror on the road in Claremont last night.

Rented the Tarentino half of Grindhouse last night, hoping to see the fake trailer that Edgar Wright made for the release, but was soundly disappointed that none of the fake trailers made it to the DVDs. Then I got treated to 2 hours of Tarentino's foot fetish. This is getting out of control. Make a goddamned real movie already. Quit delaying the inevitable.


So, remember when I said I was gonna make a mix in a week...urm, 2 weeks ago? Well, last night I sat down to actually get things all set up and decided I have about 2 mixes worth of stuff at least. This is largely because I got about 250 of the weirdest and therefore most usable audio clips I've heard in awhile and god knows I love filler. Anywhy, this morning I wiped my ipod after copying all of this, so this so-called mix project is still coming, it just might be a few days. For real this time. I have sequencing worked out and everything.

You can now get fined for puking in bars in PA. Blammo!

Asterisk!

Japanese peeping toms!

Ninjas. The threat is fucking real already! If I find out that this is someone I know from college +10 points.

oh dear god!

you know what gets me homesick? Ridley trash fires!

You know who I don't want asleep? The people guarding NUCLEAR REACTORS. The dudes in Art museums are like spry cougars, but put someone in charge of something that can melt my family and it's bedtime for bonzo.

Torrey Pines State Reserve

the rarest Pine in the US. Yes, this is what my life has become.

"a sweet boyfriend who will bring her presents."

Why does it seem like every single man in a position of power in this country seems to be actively involved in trying to HAVE SEX WITH OUR CHILDREN? Bloody hell, this is ridiculous. a 5 year-old girl? What's worse is when he will invariably try to pin this on drugs/alcohol/hippies and then find jeebus in an effort to soften his punishment. No dice, Chachi. Hope prison is impossibly cruel to you.

"Don't diss my homies"

While Greenspan did just admit that the war is, after all this, about oil. But Ray McGovern (a former CIA analyst who has gotten arrested countless times in the last few years for trying to call these guys out on their bullshit) has a great article here delving deeper into this and proving for real that as high and mighty it is to tell the world, to tell our soldiers, that we're fighting for an ideal that we can't even maintain on our own shores, they're in it to make a lot of money for some already superfluously wealthy fat white men. shocking, I know.

"Wait until they've heard what I can make up this time. Obama bin Laden!"

As excited as I am for TV to start back up, between OJ 2 (threat-filled boogaloo) and Alan Keyes announcing that he's gonna run for president again, the next few months just got hilarious. Cue the goddamn carnival music.

blech. fun fact! There are both male and female pine cones. and Giant Sequoia cones are no bigger than eggs! fascinating!


Funner fact! Donald the Duck's middle name is "Fauntleroy", which has cracked me up consistently for the past few days.

I'm still making that mix. I keep getting new music though so I want to sort through this becore I make a final list. Keep an eye out.

300 (not the homoerotic comic book adaptation)

2/3 of the world's Polar Bears will be gone by 2050. You think that's depressing? Also, every single dog you've ever met on this earth will be dead. Terrible, I know.

Another to be filed under perpetual doom and hysteria:

Notice: Continuation of the National Emergency with Respect to Certain Terrorist Attacks

Consistent with section 202(d) of the National Emergencies Act (50 U.S.C. 1622(d)), I am continuing for 1 year the national emergency I declared on September 14, 2001, in Proclamation 7463, with respect to the terrorist attacks at the World Trade Center, New York, New York, the Pentagon, and aboard United Airlines flight 93, and the continuing and immediate threat of further attacks on the United States.

Because the terrorist threat continues, the national emergency declared on September 14, 2001, last extended on September 5, 2006, and the powers and authorities adopted to deal with that emergency, must continue in effect beyond September 14, 2007. Therefore, I am continuing in effect for an additional year the national emergency I declared on September 14, 2001, with respect to the terrorist threat.

This notice shall be published in the Federal Register and transmitted to the Congress.

GEORGE W. BUSH

300 posts. sweet jesus that seems like I've wasted a lot of time. I was going to post another mix up this week, since both of you that downloaded it seem to have enjoyed it so far. This will be an older son-oriented, single track mix, but that'll have to wait a bit, because my desk at work is weeping from the amount of shit I've placed on top of it.

Anyway, Nelson sent me this link of abandoned plane wrecks of the North, which is probably the most entertaining site I've been to in weeks.

and keeping in line with my Soviet Russia fascination, here's a fucking awesome site devoted to the posters of that era.

other than that I got nothing but to get back to work. It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia premieres tonight, and for the love of fun please watch it, because I want to be able to enjoy it in the future and it needs you to do that. Anywho, it's supposed to shoot back above 100 this weekend here, so who knows, maybe I'll be pushed into making that mix sooner than later. ta.

I'm frantic like a bastard today, and just had the following conversation:
I'm in one room trying to quietly grab my lunch from out the fridge when I overhear 2 of the people I'm on a holiday party planning committee (that I clearly did not volunteer for) with. I overhear them talking about the party:

co-worker 1: We should call Cotton in here so he can get caught up
so of course I pick up me pace and start ti tiptoe out of the kitchenette with my salad.
co-worker 2: Cotton, can you come here a second?
my brain: goddamnit!
me: um, okay. I'm just getting ready to eat my lunch though.
co-worker 1: okay, we'll be quick then. We were going over the budget, and-
my brain: awwwwwww. there's no fucking way this will be quick. just run out of the room. quick! ABORT! ABORT!
co-worker 2: Since we're paying so much for a band we were thinking you could break the contract with them that we all agreed to
me: I'm not sure if we should do that, for the obvious reasons.
my brain: this will so result in my getting drunk tonight.

(sigh).

anyway, Lucy: Daughter of the Devil premieres all over this weekend on Adult Swim. This is written and directed by Loren Bouchard, who was about half of the creative force behind what might be my all-time favorite TV show, Home Movies. He's the half that didn't go on to do Metaloclypse, which is also awesome. Anyway, Lucy is a lot more like HM from what I've seen of it, and has already resulted my totally having a crush on a second cartoon character.

Go watch the pilot here. It's funny, I swear. or clips here.
It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia starts up again nect week, too. So I'm gonna be writing a lot of TV stuff. and laughing. and probably feeling a little homesick.

on a good note, it's cooled down here considerably. Now all I gotta do is wait and laugh at you jerks during the Winter.

Lonesome George: Bangin!

and just so you don't start hating him just because he's too busy sexing it up outside of his species and not even bothering to wipe the food off his face, he's also got a little buddy:

My Melting Life

It was 109 degrees here yesterday. It's been over 100 for the past 4 days. I am not made for this. All I can do is sweat, and move as little as possible. Lizard mentality is what I've been reduced to. shit is just melting everywhere around me. I tried to write on this project I've been working on, but pretty much sat there hallucinating for an hour. I got less than 3 hours of sleep last night because even with the crappy A/C window unit on, it was too hot to sleep. I know that I won't mind this when it's December and I can wear shorts, but right now I just want to blow up the sun. so miserable.

In better news, I put together a mix. I was going to actually mix it and have it all on one track, but my patience was thin enough last night that I was just happy to have finished it. So there's that. It's mostly spaz-rock songs with a lot of clips. Hope you like it.


My Melting Life
Intro
"Grape Nuts and Chalk Sauce" - Blockhead
"No Need to Be Rude" - Black Hollies
"You've No Clue, Do You?" - King Creosote
"Serious" - Richard Hawley
"Easy Street" - Cheeseburger
"Hangers On" - Dan Sartain
"Wall of Death" - Dax Riggs
"No Regrets" - King Khan & the Shrines
"This Mic" - Special Ed
"LCD Soundsystem Vs. Franz Ferdinand
"You Made Me Like It" - 1990
"What Comes After the Blues" - Magnolia Electric Co.
"Rolling One Sun Blues" - Wooden Wand and the Sky High Band
"My Shadow" - Jay Reatard
"Maria Bartiromo" - Joey Ramone
"Ride On Josephine" - Bo Diddley
"Humble Me" - Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings
"Bellies Are Full" - Portugal the Man
"Simmerin'" - Weston Prim and Backlash
"Miles From Nowhere" - Cat Stevens
Part 1
Part 2

Lonesome George

The next time you're feeling a little depressed or lonely or like there isn't anyone in the world who you can talk to, just imagine what it must be like for this poor bastard. Can we at least clone something for him? COME ON, SCIENCE.

Dear Alberto Gonzales,

I can't say I'm not glad to see you go. I can't really even say that I wouldn't enjoy hearing that you'd been devoured by a mythical whale, or chupacabra. What I believe, though, what I truly believe, is that you’ve used the U.S. Constitution as your assrag for the past few years, and that we won’t even be learning about the really horrific stuff for a few more years to come. I’m willing to bet you even snuck in some parting shot on your way out. We’re going to find out in October that W is legally our Emperor. I don’t care about that shit, though. I don’t even care that Michael Chertoff is being considered as your replacement. At this point they could nominate Chester Cheetah as your replacement and I wouldn’t even blink. I’d just start stockpiling whatever cheese I could scrounge up.

No, I’m pissed that you have to keep inciting the hardships of your father and grandparents when you make any sort of public appearance. You’ve gone to great pains to do this, and with GW sitting beside you nodding, as if he has a fucking clue of what you’re talking about.

Now, I am not one do dispute your family’s hardships. I’m sure that it was no pleasure to deal with the hostility and racism that accompanied being an illegal immigrant in their time. What bothers me is that you have gone out of your fucking way to incite more hostility and racism for immigrants of today. Guest worker programs* aside, you have helped whip up a furor over the exact same conditions that have led to your being born here. On top of that, you are resigning amidst allegations of because of your program to strike LEGAL immigrants off of the voter rolls to give advantage to your administration’s party. How can you justify that? How do you sleep knowing what you’re doing is curtailing the rights of these people, who came here legally and envisioning the “American Dream” you refer to so lovingly? Is the American Dream pissing all over the citizenry? Bullying the underdog? Probably. It certainly seems to be a running motif.

And what bothers me the most about all of this is that in addition to perpetuating the litigious shanghai of our fundamental rights, you’re also opening the doors for all sorts of fuckwitted programs. Now they can make up all sorts of crazy shit and cite you as precedence. So thanks for that. Your legacy will live on in the slow decline of this country. Your administration might well be looked back upon in the future as the nail in the coffin of the era of the United States of America as the cultural and moral leader of the free world. So please stop hamming it up for the cameras. Don’t keep mentioning the plight of your ancestry. Just shut up and go off to your lecture tour and let some other idiot come in and finish what you’ve started.

With fiery mind bullets of outrage,

Your pal Cotton

*honestly, I can see how you'd think these would work, but there's still no way this isn't just further exploitation of a migrant labor force. and until you can guarantee that these people will be granted the same rights as other workers in this country, you've pretty much just legalized slavery. Thanks for that one as well.

"Radio Nowhere" - Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band

THE RED PLANET

I had a dream last night that the United States had somehow terraformed Mars, or at least parts of it. There were 500,000 people living there in 2 settlements (named "Indiana" and "Pittsburgh") that were primarily a workforce for huge mines and greenhouse agriculture fields. Oh, and of course the bulk of the workforce consisted of immigrants, some of whom were allowed to bring their families. There were Burger Kings and the place looked a lot like rural Utah, though I bet if I could take another look around, rural Iraq would probably be more like it. Especially with the Burger Kings.

It was like a high-tech version of the mining/logging/railroad camps of the early 19th century. By and large, the settlements were lawless and many carried weapons. Also, there were 2 large conspicuous fake mountains next to the settlement I dreamt I was in ("Indiana"), which were clearly silos for nuclear weapons which were aimed at the earth. It was also a widespread assumption that somewhere on the other side of the planet there was a massive compound where the earth's "elite" would be in case the missiles were ever fired.

The reason I was even on Mars, though, was because a good friend of mine had settled there, and in true pioneer fashion, had set up an adult theater for the workers. It was wildly popular, and not the sort of porno theater I was expecting, since the only movie I remember seeing was a crudely animated burlesque feature. There were prostitutes (with cybernetic enchancements) working outside of the theater, but my friend had nothing to do with them, since he seemed to be making a killing with this theater. So much so that he needed serious help running it, which his why he had snuck me out on a mining freighter (the only way to sneak onto the planet without a worker pass from the industrial businesses set up there) to be his partner in the Martian pornography business. Though, in my dream, they referred to themselves as "Areans". Creepy, I know.

I'm not sure what else I remember about the setup, but I have more scrawled next to my bed at home. There were paramilitary helicopters (how the hell would that work?) all of the cars there were pre-Catalytic converter, because for some reason they were easier to modify to run in the atmosphere. By the end of my dream, I had become ingrained in a class struggle and revolution of sorts. It was pretty drawn out. What was even stranger is that I had come to Mars from settlements on the Moon, which was completely settled at that point and wasn't strange at all to be living on. Huh.

This isn't the sort of dream I usually have. Normally, I dream about waterskiing on a cheeseburger and punching a dolphin in the nose or whatever, and then I wake up and it's gone. This was something that I remember during the dream thinking "write this down". It's clearly a culmination of things I've been reading/watching lately, namely the John Carter of Mars series, Deadwood, my mounting paranoia, Transmetropolitan, Robert Capa's photos of the Spanish Civil War, and God knows what else. But I'm wondering if I should try to write this out further. Historically, I can't write sci-fi for shit, but I'm sort of interested in this. I don't know, I'm just thinking with my fingers at this point.

So yeah, I woke up this morning thinking I was moving to Mars. Then I went to the bakery up the street (which is, in fact, the greatest bakery in the world) and was buying my almond croissant and coffee when I saw a couple of ladies gawking out the window at the news van parked across the street. The following exchange took place.

Lady #1: That's ! She's here because Money magazine just named us the 5th best place to live in the country!*

Lady #2: ooooh, neat!

Lady #1: Well, I think they mostly chose smaller towns for the survey, but it's pretty wonderful that-

Me (jumping in): That's true. I actually just moved here from the #9 town on that list, and-

Lady #2: Well, is it better here?

Me: Well, I don't think I'd use the same criteria as Money magazine, but-

Lady #1: yeah, but you notice the difference, right?

Me: Well, it's warmer...

Then they ran and grabbed the news lady, offered my unique perspective, and she interviewed me off-camera (the equipment wasn't set up yet) for a few minutes and I told her pretty much the exact same thing as above before I left on my way to work.

Then, ten minutes later, I was walking down the driveway to my workplace, through the construction area that's been there for some time and will continue to be for some greater time. I was walking in the dirt on the shoulder of the driveway when I heard a giant truck horn blare just feet behind me. I turned and saw a cement truck that was wider than the driveway itself.

"What are you, retarded? GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE ROAD" the driver yelled.

It's been a long morning. And it's shaping up to be an even longer day. Anyway, I'm sorry to describe yet another dream to you this morning, but this one was too weird not to.

*this is true, but it happened like 2 months ago. Go news.

Early in WWII, the powers on all sides were scrambling to master whatever domains they could that might give them an edge on the battlefield. These included burgeoning high-powered artillery, submarines, and atomic weaponry, and even the supernatural. But most important was aerial warfare, which was finally becoming safe enough to be a viable option. Technology and the manufacturing line produced thousands of planes, from the MiG 3 to the B-29 Superfortress to the rocket-powered Messerschmitt Me 163. Science was allowing great leaps and advancements in the field, and the collected war efforts could hardly keep up.

From early on in the war, though Hitler had championed another sort of flight, almost a reverse engineering of the advancements that were taking place: the glider. The glider was cheap to produce and only required enough fuel to launch them. They were silent, which was not a luxury that the science of the mid-20^th century could afford, and made them ideal reconnaissance planes and light troop transports, and even in some cases light assault planes. Thinking that this could prove a valuable weapon, Hitler scoured the countryside for glider pilots who could fly is silent air force.

His recruiters were met with great resistance and scorn. Why, the pilots would say, would we want to fly into hostile air space in a practically unarmored plane? The heavy steel of the Messerschmitt was far more appealing to anyone with a shred of sanity left in them. But the recruiters did keep hearing one name: Karl Müller.

Müller, you see, was a famous stunt pilot, and had been legendary among the flying show tour for his wide loops and crashing dives performed in his famous glider, the Whispering Banshee. It was named for the quiet whistle the glider –the only one of its kind- would let out as it flew. It was not loud, and hardly recognizable as a glider, but those who knew it could hear it well. Karl Müller, the pilots all said, that man is mad enough to fly into the mouth of hell. So they visited Herr Müller at his house and tried to persuade him to lend his services to the war effort. But he refused. He had a beautiful wife and small children and he did not want to leave them. He also did not support the Reich’s ideas and he would not lend his talents to their bloodshed. The recruiter insulted his sense of honor and his decency, but still Müller would not budge. Herr Müller, they cried, you do not need to drop bombs or fire weapons, only scout the enemy troops and tell us where they are. Think of the Many German lives you could save! He took his young wife’s hand in his and stated calmly that this was not his fight. The recruiters tried everything they could think of. They sent high-ranking officials, even Hermann Göring himself, to try to reason with Müller, but none had any luck.

It wasn’t until his wife’s brothers joined the army that he called the Luftwaffe back to his home. “I cannot bear” he said, “to know that my family could be harmed while I could be their eyes and ears”, so he offered his service to them on two conditions. 1) that he would be equipped with no weapons and 2) that he fly the Whispering Banshee. They thought him mad, that he would intentionally fly a plane that made noise when there were silent ones at his disposal. “Yes, it makes a noise”, he said to them, but a noise that no man that hasn’t already seen her would ever expect from a plane”. And so they reluctantly agreed.

Frau Müller was devastated. She had been so proud of her husband for refusing to fight, and now she felt that her own family was the cause of his undoing. She begged and pleaded with him not to go, but he only repeated himself, that he had to watch over his new kin. She wept as he was picked up and driven to the airfield, and put her crucifix around his for luck before kissing him and sending him off to the front. He looked her in the eyes and spoke quietly, but with purpose: “I promise to you, my love, that I will return”.

That night of his first mission was a dark night with heavy fighting. Karl Müller’s plane saved entire regiments with his reports, and his plane spooked the enemy soldiers more than any weapon could, as they were superstitious and feared that the forest they were camping in was haunted. The night was long and hard and when the sun rose the next morning the German line had held off the invaders, but Herr Müller’s plane had not yet returned. They waited hours and hours for hi, but there was no sign of him or the Whispering Banshee. The scoured the countryside for the wreckage of his plane, but nothing was found.

Days turned into weeks turned into months. Nothing was found of the missing pilot. The tide of the war began to turn against the Germans, and the neighbors and residents in the Müller’s small town began to forget -as a small town during wartime is wont to do- of his heroic actions and began to whisper amongst themselves behind the widow Müller’s back. They called him a traitor. How could anyone refuse to serve in the Luftwaffe so many times and them say yes? How could we be losing this war so suddenly? Why has no wreckage been found? Frau Müller knew of these accusations and ignored them, knowing full well that her husband would never betray her or the family he loved so dearly. This never stopped the catcalls in the market though, nor the vandalism, nor the black eyes her children received in school Herr Müller was a spy, the whole town felt.

Years went by and the as the war ended, so did the memory of its exploits. Life resumed in their sleepy hamlet as everyone tried to forget what they later learned of their effort. The widow Müller, though, had never forgotten. She had gone mad with anguish and could be seen on the streets, weeping for her husband years after his disappearance. Her children grew and moved into the city, hoping to start new lives, but she remained in their little house, unwed and waiting for her husband to come home. She had become an old crone before she had turned Thirty-five, hardly recognizable from her days as a beautiful young lady. She would spend days in the fields, hoping to hear again the noise of the Whispering Banshee.

Then, as it happened, she was in the fields one day with her old dog, picking some downed branches from a terrible storm the night before and quietly singing when she heard it. She thought for a moment she had finally gone mad, that her mind had actually forced her to hear the sound of her long-gone husband’s legendary plane. She shook her head but it was still there. It wasn’t until her old hound perked his head up that she knew it was not her imagination. The Whistling Banshee had returned.

And sure enough, far into the blue she even saw it, soaring in wide arcs as it descended from the skies. She was beside herself with glee and wept with joy as she saw the plane approach and began to skip as a little girl would to the place she was sure it would land.

And land it did. She took a few minutes to catch up with it, but grew more ecstatic as she saw the familiar gold paint of the Banshee, and she pushed herself faster to reach her husband. She finally reached the glider where it rest on the field, and wiped her tears from her eyes, wanting her husband to see how she had waited for him, that she still wore his ring and magically, she began to resemble her former self. Her eyes were light and her smile betrayed the aging she had undergone. She brushed her mane with her fingers for a second before reaching for the lever to open the cockpit.

When she opened the hatch, though, she cried in disbelief. It was Karl Müller, to be sure. His flight suit and helmet were unmistakable, as she often patched it for him and knew it like she knew her own skin. And there also was the crucifix that she had given him on that last night, still around his neck. “I promise to you, my love, that I will return” he had said. And he had. A patchy, grinning skeleton looking up at her from the cockpit, keeping the promise that he had made so many years before.

What Frau Müller had not known, what nobody hadn’t known, that the night that the Whispering Banshee had last taken off, Karl had found himself lost and off course in the dark night, and his radio had broken. In the pitch he had managed to fly himself right into the forest where the enemy front lay and lodged himself between two trees. He feared for his life in that stranded plane, but knew that the enemy had no hope of catching him as long as he made no noise. And he didn’t.

The Banshee betrayed him, however, as soon as a strong wind blew through the forest. The wind in the wings had let out that that eerie whistle and a superstitious Russian solder fifteen feet below him had shot his weapon into the air several times, firing right through the wooden glider and killing Herr Müller. There he lay, lodged between those trees for twenty years until a strong night storm dislodged him and sent his glider on one last ride back to his loving wife.

I didn’t make this story up. It’s not true, either, though most of the setup is. I had a teacher who told me a very similar story (I added a lot of stuff, since I couldn’t remember anything but the general premise) on Halloween when I was in 6^th grade. He was probably the best storyteller I’ve ever known and was an amazing guy to listen to. and today I woke up and saw a news story that suddenly made me feel like I was twelve years old and fidgeting in a darkened theater, so I did what I could to remember this and type it up. If it’s written shoddily or seems hurried at the end, I apologize, but I only had a lunch break to write this out and it took slightly longer than I initially thought. In any case, think of what Leo Mustonen's family must be feeling right now. this sort of thing apparently happens quite a bit (I found at least 4 news stories taking place in the last 4 years like this) and I thought you might want some good Tuesday creepiness.

In other fun stuff, I was up late last night watching a car chase live on TV. I think this officially makes me a Californian for now.

P.S. I don't know why the font is so large, but I can't seem to fix it so you'll have to make due. my apologies.

R.I.P.

Max Roach just died.

I was actually in the midst of setting up (or at least starting to) a series of posts about my favorite drummers, and he was among the first names to pop into my head. His influence cannot be measured, and he (along with Kenny Clarke) took the entire format of drumming to new places and his social activism was well known. Tonight I'm going to pour myself a drink and give Money Jungle a listen. We'll miss you Max, but your legacy isn't going anywhere.