Purpose: Determine a band’s leader by analyzing a publicity photo.
Disclaimer: A band’s inclusion on this blog reflects neither an endorsement nor a criticism of its music. This post is merely intended as a spotlight on the inner political workings of a collection of individuals who are in the midst of a cooperative, creative endeavor.
Band: American Hi-Fi
Genre: Power Pop
Website:http://myspace.com/americanhifi
The Verdict:
I’ve been tagged with a laser-pointed, one-blogger-at-a-time meme by SamuraiFrog.
THE RULES
1. At the bottom of your post, include your version of the statement, changed or not.
2. Pass it along to one single blogger.
3. Link your post back to the original here.
4. Link back to the person who tagged you: SamuraiFrog
The frog must have been gargling styrofoam popcorn while speaking with me, because it was a bit difficult to make out his message. I did try my best I to decipher it.
THE MESSAGE
Jesus hip and dice cards, yo’ thighs man, your claws would accept two to win my hand. I won’t wear your warm cereal until I warm you the red fins or be some dumb thing-a-reeny in a monkey, okay?
Bubs, you have been tagged.
As far as the current political scene goes, my opinions probably most likely do not vary greatly from those who occasionally read my blog. Like minds attract like minds, I suppose.
Having said that, I must state, as a matter of conscience, that I am thoroughly undecided regarding the latest brouhaha developing between Dr. Zaius and Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein.
They are both vying for the highest level of office of these grand United States.
I must mention that I have added Dr. Zaius, Dr. Monkey Von Monkerstein as well as Dr. Von Monkerstein’s advisor and/or puppet Samuarai Frog to my blogroll, in my attempt to see all sides of the Simian issue.
Now, Dr. Von Monkerstein and Samurai Frog have graciously added *me* to their blogrolls. And as for the blogroll of Dr. Zaius? The tumbleweeds blow there, having not felt the life-giving moisture of Splotchy.
Why, do you ask? I do not know. I *do* know that in a hotly-contested political race, all votes are precious. Perhaps even more important than my vote is my influence. Dr. Zaius, do you want the full force of the Splotchy apparatus upon your simian head? For example, do you want me training my ample resources on investigating the status of your US citizenship? I think not.
There is an easy remedy to the sticky wicket you find yourself in, Zaius.
Add me to your blogroll, and I promise to advocate fairness and reasoned discussion, and will represent the views of both yourself and Von Monkerstein honestly.
If not, you’re in for a big shitstorm.
Best Regards,
Splotchy
From today’s Chicago Tribune:
Sober report on Iraq
Progress review mixed; Bush says ‘surge’ needs time
Wistful president talks of politics, principles
By Michael Tackett
Tribune senior correspondent
Published July 13, 2007
WASHINGTON — He rode into office on plain speech and core conviction. In the years following the Sept. 11 attacks and throughout the Iraq war, that persona of tough resolve had only hardened. But on Thursday, President Bush found himself almost wistful, conjuring a rocking-chair moment at his Texas ranch when he will reconcile his unpopularity with the knowledge that he honored his principles about the war.
In a notable departure from his typical approach, during a White House news conference beamed out to the world, the president acknowledged the personal toll of sticking with his beliefs when they were so profoundly in opposition to those of the American people.
…
Like students complaining about the questions on a test, the Pentagon tried to help the president, arguing that the benchmark tests set by Congress were in effect designed in such a way as to ensure they would not be met.
The full article is here.
The print article actually has an accompanying image that its online version does not. It’s pretty much the same kind of image I’m including on this post.
The inclusion of a picture of a sober, tight-lipped Bush alongside an article about how something he was involved in went horribly wrong is getting a bit old for me.
I think it’s very appropriate that the author of this article makes the analogy of Bush needing help in school.
When I see these kinds of articles + images, Bush reminds me of a lazy-ass summer school student, who you, as his teacher, are admonishing for his poor performance on a test. He is wearing the expression for your benefit, so you’ll feel that he is listening at you, and in the future will be determined to do a good job. However, in reality, he just doesn’t give a shit, and will just muddle through your class without the slightest bit of effort.
I’d say flunk the bastard, but I’d rather just have him out of my school system.
…as you’re walking to work from the train, listening to your MP3 player, The Bee Gees’ “Night Fever” drops into your shuffle.
Do you remember way, way back, when I stated I’d like the freedom to be occasionally offensive?
Well, this is one of the stories I had in mind. My main reason for writing this story isn’t to offend. I just thought it would be a funny, horrible story to tell. Hopefully it turned out okay, but that’s not really my call, I guess.
So, without further ado, Splotchy presents another dreadful reimagining:
The little railroad engine was the tiniest of engines, with the smallest boiler and the smallest furnace.
Little Engine mostly just helped out at the train yard, pulling freight cars off and on the switches. But one early morning a long-line of freight cars came into the yard. They asked a large engine to pull it over some hills. The large engine replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t.” The freight cars asked another large engine, but it too replied, “I’m sorry, I can’t.”
Finally, the freight cars asked the Little Engine, who replied, “I can! I can! I think I can!”
So the freight cars hitched up to the Little Engine, and off they went into the sunny fall country.
The freight cars were many, but still rather light. At each small town, the Little Engine stopped. With every stop the freight cars grew heavier and heavier.
The Little Engine came to a small hill. He pushed up the slope with a huff and a puff, and came back down on the other side. As he came down the hill he met a red engine.
“Hi, Mr. Engine, how do you do?” asked the Little Engine.
The red engine frowned, “I’m alright, I guess. As good as can be.” The red engine raised his red eyebrows. “Are you sure you should be pulling your long line of cars?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Engine, that is my job! My job is to take the cars where they go!”
The red engine sighed, “You shouldn’t go, you really should not. But I wish you well. Good day.” And off puffed the red engine, and then he was gone.
The Little Engine stopped at several more towns. And with each town the cars grew heavier and heavier. “My, these cars are making me huff!” thought Little Engine. “My, these cars are making me puff!”
Again Little Engine came to a hill, this one twice as big as the one before. With mighty huffing and mighty puffing, Little Engine finally made it over the hill.
As he came down the hill he met a black engine.
“Hi, Mr. Engine, how do you do?” asked Little Engine.
The black engine sighed, “I could be better. But I’m as good as can be.” The black engine looked at Little Engine then whispered very close, “Are you sure you should be pulling your long line of cars?”
“Oh yes, Mr. Engine, that is my job! My job is to take the cars where they go!”
The black engine muttered, “You shouldn’t go, you really should not. But I wish you well. Good afternoon.” And off puffed the black engine, and then he was gone.
The Little Engine stopped at one more town. And then he came to the largest hill. The Little Engine never had seen such a hill. The freight cars were so heavy, and he was so tired. But Little Engine spoke aloud to himself, “I think I can, I think I can.”
And with that Little Engine started up the hill. It took all of his huffing. It took all his puffing. Little Engine’s wheels strained with every bit of his might. And he said again, louder, louder than before, “I think I can, I think I can!” And the Little Engine went faster and faster. “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!”
And with that the Little Engine came over the top of the hill. Little Engine smiled, and said to himself, “I thought I could! I thought I could!”
And Little Engine, tired, more tired than ever before, rolled to a stop. Hundreds of people got out of his cars. Soldiers escorted the people in through a gate. The Little Engine looked up, and read a large sign:
Little Engine saw another little engine, whose eyes were droopy, staring at the ground. “What do the words on the sign mean?” Little Engine asked the other little engine.
The other little engine replied, “Work shall set you free.”
The Little Engine smiled. “Yes!” he said, “Yes. Work shall set us free. I thought I could! I thought I could!”
THE END
The word “taint” popped up multiple times on July 9th for me, including a post of my own.
michael k, in a comment on a post by Grant Miller that very same day mentioned a beloved sketch on the wonderful HBO comedy series Mr. Show.
It bears worth including here.
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun to hang around
Feelin’ that same old way
No fun to hang around
Freaked out for another day
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun my babe
No fun
No fun to be alone
Walking by myself
No fun to be alone
In love with nobody else
Well maybe go out
Maybe stay home
Maybe call Mom on the telephone
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
No fun to be alone
No fun to be alone
Hang on
Don’t you lemme go
No fun to be alone
I said to be alone
I said to be alone
Now Ron, I say Ron
C’mon an lemme hear you tell em
Lemme hear you tell em
How I feel
I say lemme hear you
Tell em how I feel
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
Well come on
It’s been a few weeks since I posited my idea for a new musical — The Road Warrior.
You didn’t think I was going to just let it drop off, did you?
Here’s the next song.
“Just A Boy”
Sung by: The Feral Kid
Description: It’s about how nobody really understands him.
I am just a boy
Playing with my toy
But I see the apprehensive faces
When I kill a man from fifty paces
People say that I’m a runt
Ratty hair and monkey grunts
Yet my heart is filled with poetry
Climb the wall and watch the moon with me
I’m alone again
No one wants to be my friend
Only Max seems to understand
But he eats his meals from dog food cans
I am just a boy
I only seem to annoy
I’m just a student looking for a teacher
Maybe someday I’ll grow to be a leader
But for now
I’m sad
Dreaming of the life
I wish I had
I am just a boy
Just a boy
I know virtually every blogger has done this eight-factoid meme thing, but I have been tagged with it for the first time by J.D..
So here goes.
THE RULES
1. All right, here are the rules.
2. We have to post these rules before we give you the facts.
3. Players start with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
4. People who are tagged write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
5. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
And now, THE FACTS:
1. I embarrassed a respected independent filmmaker.
Back in the late 90’s, a friend of mine and I made a 16mm feature film (we cowrote, he directed).
Not too long after the film was completed, he had tickets to see the movie director Monte Hellman speak at a screening of a new print of Hellman’s little-seen 1978 movie, China 9, Liberty 37.
My friend wanted to see the film, but he also was toting along a VHS copy of our finished movie, which he hoped to pass off to Mr. Hellman. He called me up — one of the people who was supposed to go with him couldn’t make it, so he had an extra ticket.
I jumped at the chance to go. I had seen some of Hellman’s other movies — Two-Lane Blacktop, Cockfighter and The Shooting, and had really enjoyed them.
After the film (which was kind of disappointing, despite having one of my fave character actors Warren Oates), Hellman took questions from the audience.
At that point Hellman hadn’t directed a movie in about 10 years. The last movie he directed was Silent Night, Deadly Night 3: Better Watch Out!. I asked him what was the story behind him directing that movie. He sort of laughed the question off. But then I pressed him, “No, really. Why did you direct that movie?” All of the sudden I felt like I was part of a tense, awkward moment. I could feel people looking at me, and I could feel the embarrassment of Mr. Hellman. He then said that he been sick with a fever, and finally gave in to someone who had been pestering him to direct the movie.
I honestly wasn’t trying to embarrass the man, I just wanted an answer to my question. I actually have never seen “Silent Night, Deadly Night 3” — it might be a very good movie, for all I know.
After the screening and Q&A we were able to go up and talk to Mr. Hellman, and my friend gave him the videotape. My friend never heard back from the man, and I think deep down he still bears a certain amount of ill will towards me as a result of my embarrassing question.
2. I have recurring bouts of hypochondria preceded by amorphous life anxieties.
I have struggled with anxiety throughout my life. I think it’s gotten a lot better, but I still get into bouts of it. Often the anxiety manifests itself in worries about myself having some sort of physical ailment. Why just a few days ago, a recurring twitch of my nose made me certain I had some sort of neurological problem (maybe Tourette’s syndrome).
I realize hypochondria is probably a pretty offensive thing to people actually suffering through real ailments, but it’s still something I am working through from time to time.
3. I was stabbed by the singer of a Chicago underground no-wave band.
You may or may have not heard of them, but US Maple is a really fantastic Chicago underground band.
Their singer Al Johnson often puts on a deliberately weird stage persona — for example, he’ll start their show shirtless and covered in dirt.
Well, one time my wife and I were in the front of a crowd seeing US Maple at the Empty Bottle, and Al Johnson was waving around a large kitchen knife. Without warning he brought down the point of the knife on my shoulder and started pushing down. I said, “Owwww!” and lowered my body to get away from the knife, but he kept the knife there, putting more pressure on my shoulder.
He eventually lifted the knife off me (it wasn’t horribly sharp) and continued the show.
After the set I noticed there was a rip in my t-shirt and a small cut where the knife had been.
Wicked cool!
4. I take a bite out of a sandwich immediately after making it.
I have no idea why I do this. I don’t come from a family with a large number of siblings — just my one brother who is seven years older than me.
Still, *right* after I make a sandwich I’ll take a bite out of it before putting it down on a plate.
5. I focus obsessively on events or people through which I feel I have been wronged.
You know who you are, assholes! I remember you, Anne, who made it difficult for me to move into that apartment on Leland because it wasn’t convenient for you to move out of there. You said, “I guess we’ll have to compromise,” but how does that it make it a compromise when you get what you want and I don’t get what I want?
And, you! Assholes at former online DVD retail outfit Skinnyguy.com! You still have a hundred bucks of my money I sent to you before, without warning, you closed up shop! I rode my bike over to your empty offices after you wouldn’t return my emails or phone calls. I joined an alumni Yahoo group of the Wharton School Of Business on the off chance I could get in contact with your founder! I even was able to track down a couple of your people at classes at the ImprovOlympic, but I didn’t end up going down to the class to confront them. After all, what am I, an obsessed person who cannot endure the sting of being slighted?
6. I never forget events when I have hurt the feelings of those I care about.
Hi. There’s probably a good chance you have forgotten the time when I said or did something hurtful (excepting my filmmaker buddy from #1, perhaps).
But I haven’t forgotten. It still bothers me. I’m sorry and I know I have already apologized countless times, but it still doesn’t help me forget.
7. Despite being a computer programmer, I absolutely hate the following kind of question — “Hey, something is wrong with my computer. Could you take a look at it?”
No I can’t, asshole!
8. I like big butts.
I tag Tim and Manx, but only if they have the hankering to do it.