What do you do when you happen to have on-hand, say, 24 episodes of the Muppet Show, 24 episodes of Fraggle Rock, 24 cans of beer (coincidence?) and a couple of days off of work?

This isn't a hypothetical. And I'm thinking I'll need at least one more case of beer. I guess you can imagine how I'm spending a goodly chunk of my weekend.

Taking this mess in chronological order, we start with the Muppet Show; and what's the first skit of the first episode, right after the opening theme?
"menomena [di doo di doo du]"
Now I know why that song has been stuck in my head for over 26 years. Of course, I usually only think of it after someone uses the word phenomenon [di doo di doo du], but once the spectre has been summoned it can take weeks before I stop whistling the tune.

du di doo doo du

actually, according to one of the subtitle tracks on the DVD, which prints pop-up-video-like bits of Muppet trivia while you watch, that should be spelled Mahna Mahna, and it didn't originate with the Muppets (they're just the ones to blame for getting it permanently installed in my brain.)

The second comedy bit, after the skit? Statler and Waldorf. The heckling began before the show could even get started...

Actually, there's a lot of good stuff on the DVD, which uses an extended version that originally aired in the UK-- so we get an extra skit or musical number with each episode. I would tell you to go out and buy the DVD right now, but it was released by Buena Vista Home Entertainment, which is a part of the Disney Evil Empire, which hasn't contributed anything good to our collective pop culture since Walt was frozen by former Nazi scientists back in 1951. (He was replaced by an animatronic double until his "death" in 1966.) (His freeze-dried mummy is now hidden in plain sight-- Eisner had it pulled from the decommissioned nuclear missile silo, and installed in the Haunted House so he could keep an eye on it.)

SO, you know, if you don't mind supporting evil corporate goblins bent on world domination, please buy the Muppet Show DVDs. (In my case, my love of all things Henson meant it was a done deal anyway... and it's not the first time I've had to traffic with eldritch chthonic powers to get what I want)

AND, Definitely go buy the first season of Fraggle Rock, which-- dare I say it-- Rocks, and has been released directly by the Henson folks so 100% of our money goes to support their artistic effort. Well, not 100%. Maybe 5% after all the corporate stuff is figured in-- but that's still better than handing it over to Disney, damn it.

I noted this on Thursday (about the same time I was writing the post below, which got buffered until this morning for no particular reason) but by the time I got around to posting here, I couldn't pull up the same article I had been reading, to post it here.

Enter Websnark, and let me just say thank you (and thanks be to [insert higher power]) , for Wednesday managed to say what I wouldn't have thought of, but certainly felt, and apparently she knows more about Muppets than I do.

The Lecture Series
-- first -- previous -- next --


“You’re drunk again, Sir.”

Yes. Yes, I am.
[beat]
Didn’t expect honesty, did you? Well, let me assure you, my own state of inebriation—while perhaps personally distressing to you--doesn’t do a whole lot to change 10,000 years of history.
“but Sir...”
Yes?
[beat]
“...nothing, Sir.”

Any other commentary, or can I start today’s lecture?
[cricket chirp]
Well, since I said 10,000 years ago, maybe today we should start there. That's roughly where we left off last time anyway.

It would seem that civilization, or at least, the city-based habits and institutions that we have since come to associate with the word 'civilization', got started about that long ago. Cities seem to have arisen independently in a number of river valleys around the world: the Indus, the Nile, the Yellow River, and the Tigris and Euphrates are the best examples because of the relative wealth of archaeological evidence. Sketchier evidence points to very similar things happening on the Mississippi, the Danube, and the Volga. Since many materials used in construction—wood, wattle and daub, mud brick—are subject to either decomposition or rain erosion, it shouldn't be surprising that we only find stone monuments, and those in areas where climate change has converted the plains into deserts. If the evidence survived, I think we might be surprised at how advanced some stone age 'tribes' really were. As it is.. there is only theory and supposition.

It could be that the twin development of city and civilization is a function of river valleys everywhere. The exception to the rule, the development of the great Central American cities around 900AD would seem to be an anomaly, but new satellite images are now showing us the canal system that was in place that supported these complexes. I feel safe in saying that any fresh water source will eventually lead to large scale agriculture and the development of city centers.

The other dynamic for city development, trade and shipping, will develop a bit later. And we might get to that later in the course. For now, we'll concentrate on the link between grain and god:

While it can be difficult to trace the origin of theocratic systems, it seems professional priesthoods really got going about the same time large groups of people began to gather in cities-- much like prostitution.

Prior to urbanization, the shaman or hermit could only provide service to his neighbors; the members of his sib or tribe, the residents of a nearby village, that kind of thing. And if we assume that early man was much like modern isolated or undeveloped tribes before the conquering European colonials “saved” them—an assumption which may be relatively safe, but not a given—it would seem that many of these holy men lived apart. The touch of the divine made them, in some way, unclean. Unfit to socialize with. Better avoided unless one needed the intervention of gods and spirits; for healing, or for guidance, or for those ceremonies that were necessary for the tribal group.

“what, like Sunday Mass?”

Perhaps not even weekly. One obvious example which seems reasonably widespread is that of male initiation, where young boys become men. Initiation rituals might take place only once a year, if that, depending on the ages of boys within the group. Seasonal ceremonies, like the winter solstice, also seem to be widely celebrated. And in fact that sort of mid-winter festival can be said to have modern forms as well, with the number of December holidays observed by many different faiths.

“Christmas is the day the baby Jesus was born. It’s just a coincidence that it happens to be in December.”

Actually, Christmas falls on 25 December because of a Papal decree back in the 4th century. It can still vary by as much as two weeks, depending on the date and calendar one uses, and apparently no one really knew the exact date anyway. A date on or near the winter solstice was picked intentionally by the early church to help the Christians compete with Mithraism. Apparently that particular marketing move was successful, because we hardly hear anything about Mithra nowadays.

“Marketing? Religion isn’t a business, Prof. It’s a matter of faith and God. How can you compare the search for God with something like an advertising campaign?”

Actually, you’d be surprised. The bill of goods being sold may be different, but it is still a matter of sales. Money is a part of it, and likely always has been at least a peripheral concern of priests—and I have a suspicion that money was the primary object, at least at one time.

“The Papal excesses were corrected as part of the Counter-reformation, and with the splintering of the Christian church into Orthodox, Catholic, and Protestant denominations I don’t think you can compare modern churches to the medieval church, or accuse them of the same excesses.”

Yes, Miss Volstead. And I’m pleased at least one student is both prepared and knowledgeable. Right, Jimmy?

[waking]
[snort] “Huh. What, Prof?”

go back to sleep, Jimmy. We are talking about religion in general terms at the moment. I'm not picking on Christianity. If it makes you feel better, I'm going to discuss issues that are prehistoric, mainly from Mesopotamia, and not about modern religion at all except as might be obliquely referenced by analogy. However, looking at modern examples... Daphne, are you saying that theme parks and satellite TV networks are part of some god’s plan for ministering to those who suffer and call out in prayer for help?

“Sir, you are bringing up a few bad apples on purpose. That's not faith.”

My point would be that they are typical examples, that modern cons are as much a part of religion as a human institution as anything else. If it makes you feel better, I'll concede that Religion as Divine Revelation is different-- but only if you'll let me occasionally remark on the ways we poor humans have corrupted religion over the years.

Perhaps we’ll get back to modern excesses later. I was trying to lay some ground work for early religion in the very first urban centers. The transition from Shamans to Princes.

-- next --

The next time someone asks me how old I am, I'm going to say 10π

The Lecture Series
-- first -- previous -- next --


Perhaps we’ll get back to modern excesses later. I was trying to lay some ground work for early religion in the very first urban centers. The transition from Shamans to Princes.

The picture is, admittedly, muddled. Taking what we can decipher from archeology, myth, and fragmentary records, we can at least make an educated guess. The first nations for which we have actual records, courtesy of some clay tablets, were the city-states of Mesopotamia, from Ur to Babylon and [research]. The national border was the city wall, a universe encompassed in a nutshell, and the Lord God of this universe was it's King.

“Hail to the King, baby. Gimme some sugar.” [ha ha]
[sigh] Go back to sleep, Jimmy.
“Nah, man, I'm up. I'll be serious for a minute, too.”
Color me five different kinds of shocked.
“Ha ha, prof. So, these guys were the first royals, princes and princesses and paparazzi and all that? Do those old royal families still exist?”
No.
“What, they got beat in battle?”
No...
“so they dried up and blew away or something?”
Actually, their subjects killed them
[beat]

Frazer's “Golden Bough” is on your reading list, so I'll just touch on this rather than go into excruciating detail. The first king was also a priest, the consort of the goddess. He in his aspect as priest and god would carry out rites with the priestess acting as goddess, ceremonies intended to secure the blessings of the goddess on the city-state, ensure the harvest and the regular change of seasons, fertility rites which were fairly pornographic
[gasp] “Oh!” [giggle]
Settle down there, Miss Habersham. And before you pull yet another movie quote, Jimmy, I'll beat you to it: yes, it was “good to be the king”. There was one drawback, though. The king as god was also occasionally required to stand in as a sacrifice to ensure the continued wellbeing of his people.

We don't know exactly how long the god-king was allowed to reign, though a term of seven years seems to crop up occasionally, and who knows, they might have offed a new king each year to ensure the spring came back on time. Whatever the interval, a new priest would be chosen as king and consort.

Now the recycling of kings seems common enough, but the fate of his priestess is cloudier. We have residual myths and stories that point both ways; either a priestess who survives, and chooses her new king, or one who shares her husbands fate. Often it would be a young couple chosen to serve as king and queen, and the two of them would be offered up for the sake of the tribe.

This is part of the overall Earth Mother complex, which has many different permutations depending on local influences-- but it was linked to the farmers, those who depend on plants and agriculture. The death-leading-to-rebirth-and-growth trope is common in goddess worship, and stories from cultures as far apart as Africa, Polynesia, and the Americas all have either a young woman or a young couple who are sacrificed, chopped up & planted, and then the staple food crop for that culture magically appears from the grave. Not too appetizing if taken literally, but here we also see the communion-metaphor that is still recognized as a modern miracle in some faiths.

“Dude. I bet the guys didn't like that so much”

Well, the original kings were also priests, so they not only knew what was expected of them, I bet they were volunteers. But you are right on that point, Jimmy, and I'll get to that before the end of the hour today.

Speaking of our priests-- the shaman was an outsider, a hermit. He interacted with the people but lived apart. The king also lived apart, but there has been a subtle change: he wasn't just linked to higher powers, he has become a higher power. He is worshiped by the people, perhaps as a symbol of some god, maybe as a god himself over time. The change here was likely facilitated by the development of a priesthood. Instead of a single holy man, who after all can only serve so many, we have a professional organization of such men and women.

Maybe it was a natural evolution, as numerous tribes gathered in the city and each brought their own mystic with them. I have no idea what kind of negotiations went on, to figure out who was right and which connection to god was the correct one. At some point somebody figured out it would be better if they all just cooperated, and this idea really caught fire. It was the first church, the first “faith”

The first farm villages were likely very similar to farm co-ops today. Things could be run by mutual consent. But eventually a village will grow into a town, and then a city. When a city gets too big, you can't make decisions by consensus anymore. It'll need some kind of administration, a ruling class, and in early societies it was the new priesthood that stepped into that role. And they selected one of their number to be King.

The king-as-Big-Chief likely made sense to early peoples. Somebody had to run things. The king-as-god was a tougher bill of goods to sell, but the people seemed to go along with this, because they could see it as part of an extended metaphor; Kings were merely stand-ins for the god, an actor playing a role in the play of heaven and earth. Besides, if the guy was a real ass about it, then watching him die in the routinely scheduled sacrifice would be particularly sweet.

“Sir, you're throwing around a lot of opinions here, and passing them off as fact. It's a good story, but what makes your version any more likely than accepted history, or myth?”
Miss Volstead, you are as always correct. And thank you for taking me to task; I might have continued in this vein for the rest of our time today and no one would have been the wiser. Your reading assignment
[groan]
OK, class, no extra assignment. I recommend that you not only read Frazer, but also the first volume of Campbell's “Masks of God”. Granted, both books are fairly large and can be tough going, but they'll give you some insight into the mind of early people, not just the stories and monuments they left behind.

There is another tradition to look into from this time period as well. The farmers worshiped the goddess, the earth mother. Their neighbors, the ones who didn't go down into the valley but rather stayed in the hills, were herders and hunters. They had a different view of a king, and their main focus of worship was a god, the big hunter, the shepherd in the sky.


It might be fair to say that they were more aggressive than the peaceful farmers in the valley. And that they weren't afraid to take what they wanted; after all, they were hunters. When they came down and conquered the cities, I'm sure some of the new things they found were to their liking. Killing the king every few years wasn't one of them. But that's easy enough to fix. You insert your own men into the ruling class, and the priesthood, and if you happen to be the new king you just refuse to be killed. And this is the start of a patriarchal, hereditary rulership that in many ways seems to have stuck with us to the modern day.

“[tsk] More opinions, Professor”

Yes. But here at least I can give you some food for thought, and using examples a bit more familiar than Gilgamesh or Polynesian creation stories. Let's look at Greek myth:

Zeus is The Man. Not only does he rule the other gods, he carries lightning in his pocket and is such a bad ass he fought off the titans and his own dad to get to where he is today. He won out over other, older gods. He is the conquering hero. Obviously he is a good role model for your average bronze age conquering tribal chief.

One of the things that Zeus is noted for is nailing anything that moves. He is an infamous womanizer and seducer.

Let's look at this reputation in new light. When a patriarchal, God worshiping culture overtakes a group that worships some local variation of the Goddess, they have to assert themselves. Re-educate their new subjects, and prove to them that their God is The Man. A goddess is re-cast as a nymph, sylph, dryad, nereid or some such-- an earth spirit, tied to a place, and as such still the local goddess, but now she is subservient. She becomes just another notch in Zeus's belt, part of his celestial tag-and-release program, and her consort becomes her son, though now also the son of Zeus. The whole of their mythic tradition is rewritten and absorbed, the old gods become new Greek heroes, and the stories are still passed down but the meaning is altered.

The pattern is repeated so often, I'd say that it is more than just coincidence.

The city, and the king, and their god-- all developed in concert, from earlier models and prototypes. It was a leap, but we carried parts of the tribe with us even as we urbanized. Of course, we like to think things are different now, but can we be so sure? The one big change was the development of the first organized priesthoods, the institutionalization of what used to be personal and private. Though as soon as kings and queens refused to be sacrificed, a new dynamic was set up: the conflict between church and state. Ancient Egypt, on one extreme, is an example of the Church-as-State, and on the other end we have the Roman Republic, before the emperors, where so many gods were worshiped that there couldn't be an official religion, and the government seems to operate completely outside the sphere of religion.

And I'll leave today's lecture at that, even though we have really only skimmed the surface. [sigh] But I guess that's all I can get to in a survey course like this one.


[link: Frazer. apparently the book is in the public domain, and as such is online]

-- next --

The Lecture Series
-- first -- previous -- next semester --


"I'm sorry Nigel, but to be blunt, I have to ask. Just how much are you drinking each week?"
How much have you got?

"Don't be flip. I'm your friend, I'm trying to help..."
Oh my yes, you're my friend. You're the Dean, and you're my friend. [beat] Might I remind you that when your current position was open, and the search committee hadn't quite finished their recommendations for the Board of Governors, I was caught with one of your graduate assistants in a cheap motel room?
"Yes, but you were caught." [beat] "...in a cheap motel room..."
Damn it, I was being set up...
[slow smile] "Judge Solomon didn't buy that and frankly, I don't think it'll fly outside of court, either."

[beat]
[glare]
well I suppose I don't have any evidence. Just what in the hell did you want, Marshall?
"Well, it seems to have come up again this semester..."
It? Quit padding around the bush. You have a [hem] stack of complaints?
"There has been more than one..."
[interrupting] so you have two complaints about me giving lectures while drunk from a couple of prudes who likely already object to my course content
"why yes..."
[interrupting] though of course it's beyond me why these puritans continue to sign up for my course, given that 'comparative mythology' is pretty clearly part of the catalog description
"but, you see..."
[continuing] not to mention part of the damn course title, for love of Zeus, and if they can't handle a few challenges to their sheltered belief structure
"but that's not the point..."
[plowing through] I have no idea how they'll handle the real world, which treats moralistic crusaders and bleeding hearts alike with the same rough gloves
[beat]
what, you're not going to interrupt me again?

"Nigel, I am trying to help you here. These complaints aren't just falling into the abyss, they're being forwarded to the Governors..."
by whom I wonder...
"and now you're interrupting me." [beat] "The Board of Governors isn't just going to shrug this off. Once the alumni get involved"
[glare]
"Yes, Nigel, at least one of your 'puritans' is a scion, the son of a..."
Scion? Drop the elitist-darkened-board-room-crap. Hell, does anybody even use that word anymore? Scion? [laughing] Are we running a college or a WASPy secret society for the Mayflower set?
"Now, see, that kind of disregard for the very valid concerns of our alumnae will..."

[standing]
I don't think I need to stick around for the rest of this. You and your blueblood donors can go stuff it. I have tenure. I'm here to teach, damn you. If you or one of your student lackeys or anyone else for that matter has a problem with the content of my course, they can take it up with Dr. Samuels. I don"t have the time or the need to stand here and defend myself.

[shuffles papers at desk] [smug bastard] "Oh yes, Dr. Samuels. It seems he's set to retire in a month."
Before the end of the academic term?
"Yes. Health problems, apparently. And in the mean time, while we look for a new department head..."
Go ahead and say it, you asshole.
"I'll be serving as interim head of your department. So not only am I your boss..."
...You're now also my other boss. Neat trick.
[beat]

I'm not going to make it easy on you. You can kick my ass out to the curb, but I'm not going to walk it there myself. Hell, I don't need this, I've been published, I wrote the damn textbooks, remember? I have other income. And even given other mitigating factors, there are those who will...
[interrupting] "Oh. No one is going to defend you, I don't think."

[beat]
Of course you're right. I'm a drunk, and a felon apparently though of course that is still being appealed. But the rights of another tenured professor will not be ignored even if most of the faculty finds me personally, well, distasteful. You cannot run this college as your own kingdom, Marshall. You haven't been in academia long; it's not a democracy, or even a feudal hierarchy. Professors are each absolute in their own sphere-- it's like a conclave of popes. They may not fight for me specifically but they will defend their own province like it's a goddamn gold depository.
"Really, Nigel, I think you're exaggerating."

Hmm. Well. No, I think on at least one point you may be right. This may be my last academic term, if that is really what you want. But you'd be surprised at the many trivial ways a hundred little monarchs can make your life difficult if they feel threatened. And an attack on even the most marginal of their membership-- me, for example-- even if they hate my guts, by lowering yourself to get rid of me you will have made an enemy of them all.
[beat]
but of course, I'm not done yet, Marshall. Do what thou wilt. I will teach. And this last batch of rats will get all they bargained for and more. As a man who has been [wry grin] proven in court to do whatever he damn well pleases in the face of both campus regulations and the law of the land, how do you think I'll behave when I know that no matter what my actions are, the consequences will be the same?
[turns, leaves. Stops at door, turns back]
Be a good dog, Marshall, and report this to the Board. You have no grounds to dismiss me yet, but your masters would be disappointed if you didn't tell them about the progress you've made today.

[leaves. No need to slam the door. Just a slow walk away from the office, leaving the door to swing as it will.]

-- to be continued --

insomnia is a bitch. but my suffering is to your benefit: stuff got written this a.m. Early this a.m.-- as is perhaps best evidenced by the time stamp on the entry below. Interlude #2 is also done, but posts after midnight tonight (gotta spread these out a bit) and while I make no promises as to quality that's a fair quantity of words.

After this, I may take a break and enjoy my vacation. Oh, didn't I mention?

"Hey, M., where did you go on your vacation last week?"
'Oh, you know, the coffee shop.'

Yep.
Coffee.

Being broke sucks. Well, of course it's my own damn fault, but what do you expect when I've only got 2 weeks to plan? (and when my vacation falls on the week right after I have to cough up rent) I didn't have a lot of advance notice that this was the week. Yeah, I'll get right on that... but hell, I'm glad I managed to get any time off before the damn christmas shopping orgy. As it is, there is going to be a craptastic pile of work when I get back next Monday.

but
[breathe]
...I'm not going to think about that. This weekend (Friday & Saturday) I'm going to help my Dad on the old suburban homestead, which leaves Thursday and Sunday to enjoy myself (Thurs. being a payday, finally)

And of course, even when one can't afford a 'fun' vacation, there's something to be said for staying up late watching DVDs each night and sleeping in each morning. Until (between that and the coffee) you mess with your normal sleep rhythms to the point of insomnia. Which brings us full circle.

At least I got some writing done. And I did manage a couple hours of sleep, after the upstairs neighbors stopped thumping around and went to work

(really, you guys should try walking the elephants down at the local park... and what in the hell are you doing for two hours each morning up there? Even if it takes two hours-- which I'm not willing to admit but for the purpose of discussion we'll let that slide a minute-- shouldn't part of that time be spent standing still, or in the shower, or in front of a mirror or something? What's up with the wind sprints?)

Oh well, if I can't get the sleep, I can at least go out and get some coffee... which will bring us full circle again.

[Posted without doublechecking; I'll verify links and clean this up a bit tonight. From the buffer file, cut, paste...]

Sunday Morning Web Trawl #9
(for some approximate value of "Sunday" and "Morning")

deep.

Via Boing Boing:
Writing Better Email: Entry & Link
Science Fiction Author predicts, truth gets stranger than fiction: Entry & Link
Mmmm.... Partially hydrogenated goodness: Link
Bum Wine: Entry & Link
Funny/Evil Device/Alarm Clock: Entry & Link
Open source hand-held game system/whatever: I misplaced the entry link, but I've got both of these. Have fun with 'em.

via the Beeb:
The words poor and poverty have been rescued from euphemisms
John Paul's last words revealed
War crimes chief accuses Vatican
Binge drinking: Blame real-estate prices.


How can I keep track of all sources? Random goodies:
Breaking news: Harry Potter is Gay
Clasicshaving.com: Better living through old technology.
Greeting the Muse from cliffbostock.com
how to cook pizza in a dutch oven
Muppet Central-- not the evil corporate site, but one run by fans. Of course, not everything they're trying to do with the muppets is evil (Statler & Waldorf review movies on Movies.com.) but I'm still going to give Disney a hard time.
A horror flicks top-10 list from Bruce. Who would know better?
To me the disturbing thing isn't so much that the story in itself is true, but rather that given his track record and previous statements, Bush and the bushies are forced to deny deny deny something that should be trivial & implausible (neh, laughable) on it's face. It makes me nostalgic for the days of Ron & Nancy's astrologer.


And Beer!
oh, yeah, that's the stuff.
just how 'big' was that beer?
in related news, more beer
...and your beermat thinks you drink too much.
liquid plumr? Haven't tried that yet...

Now,

(which isn't really a time indicator signifying this very instant, more of an interjective, a way to make this post seem like the continuation of a previous chat. Part of the over-all conversational style we strive for here on p.a.)

...Now, I'm tempted to just empty the burgeoning buffer file en masse onto the journal, just to have something to post. Not all of it is like the pithy, interesting mini-essays which are the bread-and-butter of my typical journal output (or, you know, drunken ramblings, whichever description you think best describes the usual crap here) (six of one, half dozen of t'other.) but there is still enough there to buy me at least a week off. And I'd seem like a freakin' genius, besides, because I could pass off a couple of months worth of writing and editing as off-the-cuff blog entries.

Typically I have something to say. Failing that, I get pissed off over some trivial matter and come up with a thousand words anyway. Failing that I'll just get a little drunk and start typing away about any old thing. And there is always the fallback proposition: getting really drunk and then writing something about being drunk.

(which is difficult, if you'd care to consider that situation for a moment. The time spent just correcting the typos... And it's a losing proposition anyway: even if I manage to perfectly convey the point I'd like to get across, all I've managed is yet more proof that I'm an alcoholic. Mildly entertaining, perhaps, but not something to build on. Not really. Unless of course you actually do build something, but you can't expect your standard drunk to be that crafty.)

I'm not saying there is great stuff in there. A lot of it is crap. (o.k., I guess most of it is crap) But I did spend some time typing it in. In fact, this entry was pulled from the buffer. If you hate it, um, yeah, go ahead and blame it on that.

Why keep a buffer file?
Would it be a need to edit entries before posting? Maybe nominally, but I don’t get into much editing, to tell you the truth. Mostly it's because I still run into the occasional internet connection problem, so I'll work off-line, typing into the buffer file rather than worry about when/if something is going to get posted.

and there's the occasional half-baked idea (as opposed to what actually is posted; digest that and shudder) that needs more time, or a little fermentation, before I pull it out and expose it to the light of day. (or rather, the dim glow of a computer monitor)

And very rarely, something is personal. How personal? There are always the scars on my wrist. (I referenced that in an earlier post) (I'm not linking to it. The regulars here read it, that's enough)

Maybe I hate the silence, even the pseudo-silence of a web journal that isn't updated. So I go find something in the buffer that seems done, and post it. And that's the sum of today's output: 100% (well, 95%) recycled.

(I'm revising the order, so that from the main page you'll read this first. Obviously, if you're reading the archives, these posts are swapped.)
(If you're reading this in the archives, well, thanks. It's nice to see someone cares about this crap)

The buffer file just hit ten pages. I probably need to go through and ruthlessly delete all the stuff that has accumulated there. That, or post it here. Which is the reason I was writing it in the first place, but

at some point the words grow beyond their purpose, past the stated reason for being and into a realm where they exist for their own sake, much like “A Modest Proposal” is still read even though the last I heard the potatoes were doing just fine in Ireland, thanks, and something like 1984 is still found on fiction aisles even though it is now 21 years gone, and should be categorized as either current events or political science.

(must wear the tin foil hat... and you posers should know that only real tin foil works, regular aluminium foil only serves as an antenna...) (antique tin can be found in old Victorian ceiling tiles, like those occasionally found in authentic pubs... which is why the man keeps introducing trendy new bars, trying to force the classic pub and the associated surveillance black-spots out of existence. Sometimes they force an old-style pub to redecorate rather than close, which is still a loss.)
(paranoia meets alcoholism. I have reached a new high water mark. I'll need to recycle that little gem in a novel at some point, methinks.)

where was I before Wells, Winston & Co. took over? Oh yes, words.
Lots of pretty little words,
they twinkle in the firmament
of my imagination;
stellar diction falls to earth,
bright vapor trails to streak the sky
in atmosphere of waking mind,
some fall as tragic meteors
and crater the subconscious.

(yes I know they're meteorites if they leave craters, in this case science must bow to poetic meter.)

How much of the falling detritus of my overarching imaginative celestial sphere is actually any good? I'll pick a number at random and say... 2%. the rest is crap. But crap also has its uses.

[proclamation, in solemn tones]
Bring Forth the Crap!

Random postings from the buffer file to commence every 9 hours (why nine?) until I run out of entertaining/engaging philosophical musings. So... about 9 hours from now, we start posting the crap.

Reading my blog and getting to know me only through the stuff I write (and in turn, post) may give you an idea of who I am, but it's a distorted image. It's not a funhouse mirror reflection-- in that, what you see here is in fact a true image-- but it may be more like looking at my life through a lens. You can see small parts very clearly, more so than in actuality, because I crack my head open and shake some of the contents out. But like a magnifying glass, while some parts are made larger and brought into focus, anything along the edge is unreadable.

Most men believe that the woman they love will never change.
(that’s one of the reasons we love them)

Most women believe either:
- that men can be changed (they’re such simple creatures, it should be easy, really)
- or that, even if most men are intractable pigs, the men in their life can (of course) be changed because of the strength of their love, etc.

Both men and women are wrong. Men will never change. Women are always changing. And of course, trying to come to terms with complex relationships by using gross generalizations will get you in trouble every damn time.

The problem with more than a few bars--and every damn nightclub-- is pretty simple, if they could just figure it out: the crowd they want, the crowd they desperately try to lure into their establishment, is not the crowd that spends money. Not the trend chasers, the clubbers, the dancing fiends, the bright beautiful things getting their groove on...

Oh, these people drink. But much like the butterflies they resemble, they stop by many flowers, only sipping of the subtle nectars, alighting but moments on tiptoe before flitting off to the next bright shiny venue. And they disappear in winter.

If you're lucky, you'll make 8 or 9 bucks off of one of these. But keeping up with what they drink... hell, by the time you can stock the latest brand of Icelandic rum toddy (in the stylish 6.7 oz blue glass bottle) they will have moved on to Sri Lankan herbal extracts and tequila, or Nepalese fermented yak milk with a splash of chambord.[sneer]

[Beer. It's a byword around here. Learn it, live it, love it]

You want to open a bar and run it until you die, and pass it on to your undeserving progeny, who will sell it to an investment group of dentists who will run the bar in absentia, change the name, décor, layout, food & drink menus, and then wonder where your carefully constructed customer base vanished to?

OK, maybe some details will be different. But let's start with that first thought: You want to open a bar and run it until you die? It's not going to be pretty. That's a given; we're talking about a bar, friends. Good bars aren't pretty. The best of them are typically refered to as classic, or landmark, or oh my god, is our car going to be safe here parked so close to this dive?

The crowd you are looking for is mostly male, mostly drunk, mostly faulty in some small way, and there most of the damn time. The few, the not so proud; the Regulars, the Alcoholics: blue & white collar working slobs, students of various stripes (and their professsors), the unmarried men and those unhappy with the life at home (married or not); The weekend bar warriors, the group of guys there for the game; The businessmen from out of town in for the poultry convention; The holiday binge drinkers there every St. Pats and Cinco de Mayo and Bank Holiday (or my favorite drinking holiday, Tuesday); The dumped and the depressed, the floundering and foundless;
the once-a-year-drunk, and the man who doesn't say anything, but nods occasionally towards a glass of melting ice, “No, same glass. Another double. Thanks, Mitch.” while watching the door and waiting for the girl who hasn't shown up since 1972.
Not those that are truly desperate, but those that live lives of quiet desperation. This is a bar's bread and butter.

Some might balk at making money from others in this manner. I say, it's a service. And it's better than making money off of defence industry stocks.

“Ichiba prefecture emergency services, please state the nature of your emergency”
There’s these [static] [unintelligible] monsters, they're coming [static] from the god-damned [breaking up, continuing static]
“Sir, I realize you are under unusual and unforeseen circumstances, but...”
[screams, explosions]
“Would you characterize the monster as an invader from space, a result of tampering with ancient spiritual powers, or a prehistoric creature awakened by pollution and/or an atomic bomb test?”
WHAT?
“Sir, answers to just a few preliminary questions will be a big help to our Self Defense Forces. I take it you have no idea... we have dealt with similar situations in the past, but we need your cooperation to help us coordinate our response.”

[BLAM BLAM BLAM BLAM chkchk]
Damn. Hand me that...
[TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT TAT]
[...sssssss
sssss
sss
s]

[BOOM]

{...eerie silence}

[gasp]
OK, I guess we've bought a few minutes. What did you need?
“Standard Form 22-A: 1st question:
Did the monster(s)
A. emerge from Tokyo Bay,
B. descend either from the skies or a weird glowing rift above the city, or
C. is it forcing its way up from deep underground via the subway?”
...
“Sir, are you still with me, sir?”

Bachelor Chow Scientific Kitchens, in association with
The Southwestern Agricultural Cooperative, and
The Methane Producers Alternative Energy Council

Proudly Present:

20 things to do with leftover Chili.

1. Eat it. Dumbass. Do I have to hit you?

Not that you’ll ever be sick of eating chili, but if you’re looking for a way to spice up your spiced gunk, you could always try a few of these suggestions:

2. Chili Dogs. mmmm... chili dogs.
3. Or Chili Cheese Fries.
4. Or Chili Burgers. (these just write themselves) Or a chili bacon double cheeseburger with grilled mushrooms & onions, and a side of transport to your nearest emergency cardiac care facility. Mmmm... bacon and chili.
5. Or a Baked Potato. After adding butter, salt, sour cream, and shredded cheese-- you know, that spud really could use some chili. Amazing what we can do with otherwise healthy vegetables.
6. Corn chips, queso dip, refried beans, sour cream, and you add a bowl of our star ingredient for: a Chili dipping platter. Nachos never had it so good.
7. If you live in Cincinnati, have a three-way. If you don’t live in Cincinnati, count your blessings and go look for the fun-kind-of-three-way.
8. Omelets. I like a salsa, cheese & leftover chili omelet, myself
9. Hash browns. Scattered, smothered, etc., and topped with chili.
10. Lasagna. Ever make lasagna with chili instead of tomato sauce? This can’t really be called Italian food, but it is some damn fine eatin’
11. Dessert. ...nah, I’m just kidding.
11. Or am I? Chili Cobbler: Dutch oven, deck out with the leftovers, top chili with biscuit dough (biscuits from a can—just peel ‘em off and arrange across the top.) and then bake.
12. One last entrée: Steak. (Not an expensive cut.) Cook a tough old T-bone and throw the chili on top. (or cook it in a little chili, if you’re resigned to both sacrificing a half cup of chili, and cleaning up one nasty-crusty-pan afterward. Then again, that’s what real cooks call 'fond' and that crusty crap can make a damn fine sauce/gravy.) Whether or not to serve this with scrambled eggs (highly recommended) is up to you.

“My good-for-nothing parasitic roommates ate everything but 'kindly', left me 'some'. What can I do with just one cup of chili?”

Don’t throw it out yet: Chili as not-quite-the-main-ingredient

13. Chili Rice Bowl: two cups cooked rice, one can black beans, and leftover chili. Very tasty with sour cream. Or as a taco/burrito, if you use drained beans and cook it to reduce a bit.
14. Chili Mac and Cheese: one blue box, cooked per specs, with one cup (or 2) of chili.
15. Chili Spaghetti Sauce: leftover chili added to a jar of store-bought sauce. With some chopped sautéed bell pepper, very nice; works well with a meat sauce—either from a jar, or add you own meat/meatballs/sausage.
16. Salad. O.K., I may be reaching. But rather than greens, try a pasta salad with roasted peppers (from a jar, chopped) with a little diced red onion and leftover chili. This works particularly well with vegetarian chili recipes.
17. More Salad: Make a warm dressing from a quarter cup of chili, vinegar and oil (or a store-bought italian salad dressing), and a spoonful of sour cream. Serve over spinach with crumbled bacon and croûtons.
18. One cup chili, one jar queso dip. Add chips. Or pour on anything. (you can start with #2, chili dogs, and pretty much work your way through the list a second time)
19. About the least `bachelor’ thing on our list: quiche. To a standard quiche recipe, add a quarter cup of diced sautéed onion, some herbs, and a cup of chili.
20. Make more Chili. Throw in the last cup of the previous batch as a sacrificial rite. “Let the circle be unbroken, Ours is the Chili, Meat, and Beans, forever and ever amen.”

I AM GALACTOSE, the Unfermentable, and I am here to take over your puny planet.

I demand all your beer. Or at least as much as I can drink. AND all your virgins. Um, or a few cute young women.
Um.
Or a good conversationalist, at least. But put a back order on those virgins, OK?

Bow down before me, your new absolute ruler. Particularly you, over there in the low-cut blouse. Oh yeah, very nice. by the way, how are those virgins coming? Look, I am your new absolute god-like despot, maybe you could put together a catalog or something.

Feel my wrath, mere mortals, I AM GALactose... oh, I already said that, huh? And the trembling in fear, cowering, that sort of thing? Hmm. OK, fair enough, just keep that beer coming, I guess.

--

A BAR TAB? Know you not whom you insult, wight? I AM GAL... oh, hello officer...

When I go out to eat, or out for a beer, I definitely prefer to sit at the bar. My friends never quite understood that. They typically insist on getting a table or a booth. There are different reasons...

“You can't talk at the bar”
What, your mouth is glued shut?

So you can only talk to two, maybe three other people at a time; how is this different from a group of eight or nine folks sitting at two tables pushed together? The overall level of noise in an establishment is more of an impediment to good conversation than any other factor, including these minor variations in seating configurations.

“people are smoking”
its the same air everywhere, folks. You can object to the bar [establishment], but as long as we're inside, I find it hard to believe you'll also object to the bar [seating area].

“only creepy guys are over there sitting at the bar.”
I take some slight offense at that characterization.

“we can't find a seat”
If you can't find two stools together, ask folks to scoot down, just like at the movie theater. Four people can socialize with just the two barstools, if a couple of someones don't mind standing. (or show up earlier, damn it, when the seats are open.) This is a valid complaint, but it's no worse than hanging around in the lobby of a restaurant waiting for a table to open up. (speaking of-- most places: bar and lounge, seat yourself, no waiting)

“why do you always need to sit at the bar?”
You know every time you complain about not being able to find a waitress?
You know how you bitch about having to wait for refills?
You remember how you're always waiting at the end of the night because there's no one there to close out your tab?
One word for you folks: bartender. Why wouldn't you want to sit next to the one dedicated server in the joint?

If you have more than four people along, than a table makes a certain amount of sense. Maybe. I'm not admitting anything, and would still rather sit at the bar. At least once I told my friends I'd be back to talk a little later, but I am going to go grab a barstool and have a couple of beers first. I'm a heartless bastard, I know, but after having the aforementioned beers, and dinner, I came back and they hadn't even ordered food yet...

It's better up here. This is the experience you've been missing, and maybe this is the reason you don't like going out to bars-- until you've tried it my way I'm not going to listen to your complaints.

[a chunk of this may have been posted before; can't recall clearly, too lazy to check]

The urge to communicate has been with us since the first author/artist smeared ocher on a cave wall. The difference between my Paleolithic hunter ancestors who munched on bear, horse, and mammoth and what we are able to accomplish now is (if I can apply this qualifier) merely a matter of time and scale.

I fool myself into thinking I have a different, unique, original view on the world. There have been wits and sages that easily eclipse my own more common talent, from Shakespeare and Wilde, to Pratchett and Adams (Douglas, not John) (or Sam).

Still, I have nothing better to do, and the web makes publishing as easy as breathing. though the instant-broadcast, always-on, democratic, distributed nature of the web is part of that, I think it's actually tabulas that makes it easy. I guess it's only easy if you know how to program, so it's nice that someone else is doing the heavy lifting for me. (and you, more than likely. Go give Roy some money right now.)

I'm not drinking for tonight's buzz, I'm working on tomorrow's hangover.

This feeling is fleeting, I know. The brief euphoria is the price I must pay for the hurt. I want the pain. I want that drained, awful feeling, I want the gods-damned cheap beer headache. My life sucks right now, and it's not so much that I need to punish myself, but rather that I feel the need to match my interior well-being to exterior circumstances.

I plan to enjoy tomorrow's misery.

[edit: not the last tidbit from the buffer file, but there's only the two-page essay left, and I don't know that I'm done with that one yet. now, to start over.]

no hangover this morning.

ya know... I shouldn't be complaining. No, really, there is absolutely nothing wrong with waking up more-or-less fine and ready to take on the world with no lingering effects from the previous night's debauchery

but... well... I was trying so hard. Oh well. (There's always next Friday night. Practice makes perfect.)

One 37 cent stamp
a couple of business cards
a phone list for local B&N's
CD and book wish list / recommendations
some drunken ramblings

I don't know if anything major was lost. And of course, there are a couple of bartenders that I should be talking to, also-- you never know, it may turn up. But I'm pretty sure that after three years and 8 (9?) of the fine Moleskines, I finally lost one.

So one starts over. I don't have any of the book darts left, but I can order those over the internet. 10 days to 2 weeks. A small delay; besides, while they're a handy organisation tool, they are not strictly necessary.

The more interesting tidbit, I guess (at least to my usual readership) is that while purchasing a replacement for the little pocket model, I also added a sketchbook to the arsenal. Of course, it's not what the folks at the European Paper Co. call their sketchbook, which is a fine item in and of itself but a bit much for my simple needs. It's the 5x8 plain 240 page notebook. I can use it for some initial pencil designs, and also format it for storyboard panels-- 3x4, a couple to a page-- for my sci-fi serial. (that's looking more and more like a 2006 project. But I'll get to it. When I get the flatbed scanner, I can upload at least a few of the preliminary sketches) (also-- I really like the look of the new reporter style notebooks. If we don't start to carry them at the store, I may have to break tradition and buy one or two or a case on-line. If I find a need, I could imagine doing some really nice cinematic widescreen storyboard panels in something like this)

Small losses, small gains. It all balances out. Maybe I just needed a bit of a kick in the ass. I know I wouldn't have bought the sketchbook without the need to replace a missing moleskine.

The latest addition to Radio Free Bender* **
is a lovely track fron Jonathan Coulton
page & song; via Boing Boing

"This week is a cover of Baby Got Back by Sir Mix-a-Lot (note: he is not an actual knight). Had to activate the whole team for this one - guitar, mandolin, banjo and even some shakers and tambourines and other things lying around the house. I’ve wanted to cover this song for a long time, because it is excellent - there’s a wonderful message in there for those of you who have big butts. In the proud tradition of many white Americans who came before me I hereby steal and white-ify this thick and juicy piece of black culture. Watch for my album Jonathan Coulton Sings Songs by Black People."

Honestly, I can't stop listening to it. It's the most hilarious thing I've heard since the folk/acoustic cover of Britney's 'Hit me one more time' (searching)

*which eventually will include a whole lot of great rare/unheard music, but until then we have to make due with mitch hedberg and irish drinking/drunken songs.

**Free Bender: St. Bender the Unrepentant was persecuted and prosecuted and cancelled unfairly by the bastards at Fox (herein after referred to as those fucking bastards at Fox who wouldn't know a good show if they broadcast it on they're own damn network) and if they ever come after me for copyright infringment, I tell you what, we're going to have one hell of a conversation about the rights of fans after the 'official' rights holder pisses on and then abandons the intellectual property in question.

Richard Thompson covered Oops I did it again on his album "1000 years of rock music"

or something close to that. I started the damn search with less info than that. (actually, I started with incorrect info.) The version he did for an NPR interview is better (link ) maybe because it was done in a studio rather than live on stage... but the emp I could find was the live version from the album. You go trawl the nets, and get back to me.

I added the song to Radio Free Bender / the radio blog. whichever whatever

Hell,

Since I can't sleep (I really need to look into probable causes, etc., for this damn insomnia) here's one more half-remembered-but-resurrected cover that I heard on NPR on the Fresh Air program.

Link to the interview with Robbie Fulks. (Go buy his album, Georgia Hard)

His cover of Dancing Queen was added to Radio Free Bender.

i was listening to npr news on the drive into work (as per usual) and not having had any coffee yet, I was "enjoying" a mild hangover and feeling so very very tired, which isn't too odd-- i got 6 hours of sleep, and i had stopped drinking guinness after 10:30 or so but of course i think that even though my liver is a marvel of modern biochemistry and perhaps the only thing in me that runs efficiently (through many years of practice and hard training)-- 9 or so beers is still a lot for the poor thing to process, and likely drained whatever reserves might have helped me be a warm, smiling, chipper little worker bee this morning
--anyway, i was listening to morning edition and they had a story on the causes and treatments of narcolepsy, maybe just the mild form they were discussing but it seemed to be easily scalable to the full blown condition and being a little bit tired anyway (though not really a hypochrondriac under normal conditions) i thought, 'hey, that could be me' but as the story went on, and they interviewed doctors and sufferers and the like, i could tell that, no, there is no pill to take, i'm just a dumbass who screws up his sleep patterns with coffee and beer (which don't concel each other out, one-for-one, but instead sets up an odd three-cornered argument somewhere in the blood chemistry, which only gets worse if you also throw in some nicotine and your everyday sort of blood sugar fluctuations)
--there is no magic bullet for just waking up tired, and the coffee, while it helps, is really only prolonging the suffering.

I could use some advil, though. mmmm.... tasty tasty advil. The coffee I just had for lunch (large iced coffee. the caffiene, or maybe just the volume of liquid, takes care of the mid-day munchies until I can get home around 4 and eat something) will give me a headache in a couple of hours, I think.

Both my health and my cars overall operational efficiency are fading, bit by bit.

I really only feel bad after laying down (say, to sleep; not that I need to do that or anything) due to a lingering but fairly persistent head cold. [disgusting description of snot ommitted] which really only accumulates in the back of my throat after a nice nap, to be there to greet me with hacking, deathly-sounding coughing when I awake. Other than that and a little bit of a runny nose, I'm fine.

My car. O, the poor long-suffering beast, how badly have I treated thee.

I plan on sinking most of 4 (5) paychecks into the poor dear, to see if we can get her back on her little round rubber feet. (brand new feet, I may point out-- a flat tire and a skilled tire salesman, and the fact that I honestly did need a couple of new tires now means my car has another new pair to go with the two I bought in February.) (which leads to me being broke... again)

The question is whether or not I will be able to affect all repairs before current pesky problems develop into something worse.

The latest pesky quirk the vehicle has acquired is some rough idling when stopped at low revs, and some hesitancy in accelaration. I'm thinking the current coughing/sputtering of the car is a fuel problem-- water in the gas tank, caused by running it mostly empty for a few weeks (can't be helped, gas is expensive) and cooler temperatures leading to some condensation in there. If that's the case, then some fuel additive (dry gas is one brand, I think) and a full tank of the good stuff (Chevron, Shell-- one of those that adds a whateveritis that cleans the lines) should be helpful. If not-- hell, it'll cost me $200 or some such just to get a mechanic to tell me what wrong, let alone fix it.

Both me and my car will have to cough a few more days, though. Between the tires, and a few other bills, and one unexpected bar tab (They're not all my fault! Really! This one can be blamed on an IBM employee training session and 86 boxes of chocolate.) (You don't believe me. I can tell) --I am unable to pay for immediate remedies to either situation.

:: did you notice, Gobo's a Canadian, eh?

Perhaps it's a matter of putting myself into the proper mindset. or maybe I have to short-circuit the intervening decades through propitious use of alcohol, finding a core that still takes joy in basic character types and pleasant (if slightly subversive) stories and pretty colours. And of course as a matter of personal preference I'm just drinking; I can only imagine what it would be like to get baked and watch the much-beloved TV from my childhood.

And while I am sure Henson never intended his 'world-changing' program to fall into the hands of a (let's be honest) drunk with a (not unique, but certainly an uncommon) love of non-traditional art forms on TV-- like animation and puppetry-- still, this particular scenario might only be playing out in, say, 5 other locations world-wide. this year. or, honestly, this generation.

I'm drinking beer. And watching Fraggle Rock. And laughing my ass off.

I'm thinking there's a drinking game in here somewhere. (or maybe not. It's not slapstick. It's not gross-out humour. It's not adult-funny in any way. More Coen brothers, less Zucker brothers, not at all Farrelly brothers. (if you can follow that))

But it is still Good Stuff. I'm glad I bought the box set, even if I never do find someone my own age who appreciates it in quite the same way. But I look forward to a day when Pops (me) and my grandkids (highly hypothetical at the moment) can sit back and watch the Fraggles together. Who cares if the munchkins aren't drinking; they, after all, start out with the appropriate mindset, and even if they were of age they'd need to ask (nicely) before touching any of Pops' stash anyway. Damn kids. Can't turn your back on 'em for more than 3 seconds and they're already trying to poach some beer... buncha alcoholics... must get it from their Grandmother...

--

One of the things that continually amazes me is what Henson et. al. managed to do with just bits of foam and felt and film tricks. In the days before easy out-of-the-box desktop CGI and Pixar and Dreamworks and (I'm not discounting what these firms are doing, just sayin') all the computer crap, I find myself in awe of what still can be accomplished with forced perspective and creative camera placement.

It doesn't have to be expensive and bleeding edge to be good. Or impressive. Or, more basically, entertaining. (though a small chunk of that sense-of-awe-bit may be attributable to the beer. If someone out there had to nitpick.. yeah. But. The fraggles are 20+ years old-- we grew up at the same time-- and it's nice to see that they at least are holding up really well)

:: a postcard from M., aka Pops, aka “Your Uncle Travelling Matt”.

In an attempt to clarify things ("it only end in tears, I tell ya") and to make the most of all the nifty little toys Roy kindly gives us (go Roy, you da Man) I'm more fully implementing categories on my tabulas.

eh. why not?

I came up with a batch of descriptions that are evocative of the usual crap here on (p.a.)-- at least to me-- and will go through and populate the aforementioned categories over the next [indeterminate time period] by classifying all the entries from the last 22 months of output.

yeah. I haven't checked the exact number in quite some time, but that's going to be a lot of entries.

Bird by bird. you take it one at a time. When I get to a point where it's done, I suppose I'll post an update. That's not all I plan to do with my time, so I'll also be posting the usual 'regular' [snicker] updates and drink a few beers, and continue to practice my writing and my drawing (I can see potential in this; but I don't know that I'll post the graphical output for some time. As noted earlier, that's a 2006 project). So yeah... and of course, if a category catches your eye, you're more than welcome to browse the process in progress.

More songs for Radio Free Bender:

Spider Robinson, Paul Kelly, Slim Dusty, the Muppets and their evil-universe-counterparts Avenue Q, The Bilge Pumps with one version of my college fight song (not that the official version is much better, "O I wish I had a barrel of rum and sugar 3,000 pound / A college bell to put it in, and a clapper to stir it round.") and another fond memory from my beer drinking college days: the song the Tech band plays at the 3rd quarter break of each game.

Of course, placed in some random order, you go look. I mean, listen. Whatever.

Ye Olde Sunday Morning Web Trawl
tagline: the best links we can remember, you know, with the hangover from Saturday night and all.

For Halloween: a photobucket gallery. Creepy. Don't browse in the dark. (I tried to warn you)

Via Boing Boing: (Yeah, I know, I always link Boing Boing. It's because they have good stuff)
- An impressive structure no matter what the inspiration, but in this case, doubly cool because it is a 3-dimensional 'shadow' derived from a 4-dimensional regular solid: BB article & original link
- Heh heh. Let's freeze stuff and watch it break. If you had the liquid N2 knocking around the house, you know you'd be doing the same thing.: BB article & original link
- Gross, comical, breakable, dangerous, delightfully cheesy, and even poisonous fun-- the toys of our youth. They don't make 'em like they used to (probably because of lawsuits): BB article & original link
- Insect Carnage: BB article & original link

From the Onion. Surprising acurate, considering I think it was meant as a joke: the Worst Parts Of Our Jobs

Not news: Heavy drinking is in no way good for me. via Yahoo News. And of course the slow self destruction is part of it's meagre charm. :p
- Also via Yahoo: People want to smoke in bars, the nanny state won't let us. (also not really news) This article did however lead me to do a bit of research, as the Irish smoking ban has been in place for at least a year: research shows Irish smoking ban is good for bar staff, a lovely little article on The Publican, which looks like a lovely little magazine. I'll have to check on that one occasionally. the BBC has the details on the proposed new English ban.

And while we're looking at the Beeb, which lately has become my primary news source:
- The Lord of the Rings musical opens in Toronto in March 2006
- Microsoft aims to trounce Google
- Iraqi Shia unite to contest poll (wait, weren't the Shia *for* the last vote?)
- Iraqi Sunni parties form alliance (wait, weren't the Sunni declining to participate?)
- Global Warming Some say good, some say bad, I say invest in companies making air conditioners and ice machines.
- Speaking of investing: a single page look at the overall world economy.

skipping along now... the world of SCIENCE!
- Chimps fall down on friendship
- Scanner to 'see inside' concrete. Pictures of Jimmy Hoffa no doubt are coming forthwith.
- Internet Part II: Return of the geeks. Did we go anywhere?
- First student satellite lifts off
- 'Statistics on alcohol are chilling'. Apparently they're all a bunch of drunks over there. Where's my passport...
- 24-hour pub opening 'a disaster'. Hey, now, I don't like the tone they're taking here...
- One in four are binge drinkers. ...and the other three are lying.

And, a note of personal interest: 'Futurama' picked up by Comedy Central via Yahoo News. But it'll still be on Adult Swim through 2007. And CC apparently was willing to pay $400,000 an episode. Count the zeros, kids. And that is .4 million each. Um, now, why did Fox cancel that one again? Oh, yeah, they're idiots. I almost forgot.

(with perhaps a touch of regret; one final post before we dive into NaNoWriMo. If I'm not going to do a 'regular' post until December, tho, let's make this last one one hell of an entry...)

Improv. A term more closely tied to comedy than music. However, improvisation in music has been with us since time immemorial (natch. once upon a time, there was no written music) and ever since some anonymous organist played a variations-on-a-theme-bit on his keyboard 400 years ago, improvisation is also a large part of all modern musical forms.

Of course, jazz improv has the highest profile of the modern variants, but there is also a parallel and growing improv movement in Rock. The Grateful Dead proved to the industry that not only will improvisational music be popularly accepted, it is also marginally profitable (or, in the case of the Dead, a license to print money) so ever since there has been small but thriving section of the overall rock music landscape sometimes referred to as “Jam Bands” (sometimes derogatively referred to as 'just' another annoying jam band) that manages to inspire both modest CD sales and an impressive fan base willing to turn out for both club performances & massive festivals each year. Phish: QED.

Maybe not for everyone. And maybe, not music in a classical sense. But INHO listening to a guy on baritone sax riff on a melody for 3 minutes still has it's own appeal.

Well, standing at the intersection of jazz, bluegrass, and classical there stands a man named Bela Fleck

...wait, wrong intersection. Bela will be a different entry.

Standing at the intersection of jazz, funk, and rock there is a brave band of pioneers known as Afroskull. These guys rock. I heartily recommend their album Monster for the Masses, and as soon as I track down my copy, I'll be able to upload a couple of tracks to Radio Free Bender (if it weren't for a hard drive failure 6 months ago I'd already have the emp on hand, as it is I have to find whichever box from the last move actually contains the original source CD, and re-rip it) (which I'd likely do anyway; I've got better MP3 encoders now) but in the meantime you can enjoy a couple of live bootlegs that I just downloaded from Afroskull's website.

The live tracks give a better idea of what these guys sound like in concert anyway. (the last time they came through Atlanta they played Smith's Olde Bar) Not really a downgrade-- though I have to say 'Theme from Afroskull' and 'Kill Whitey' sound like they were ripped direct from a 70s movie soundtrack. Instant classics. The CD is around here somewhere...

More Music:

You like Morphine? I do. As a college freshman, I use to play cure for pain everynight before going to sleep. (I think everyone has an album like that) (actually, I alternated between Morphine and a couple of requiem masses. Yeah... I'm screwed up like that.)

RIP Mark Sandman. He died on stage back in 1999, somewhere in the rough vacinity of Rome, Italy. (We should all be so lucky). He has been and will be missed. If you feel the urge:
The Mark Sandman Music Education Fund.
These funds will be used to help children in the
Cambridge public school system pursue their
music education.

Morphine
PO Box 382085
Cambridge, MA 02238
Checks can be made payable to:
Mark Sandman Music Education Fund

The survivors, Dana Colley and Billy Conway, first put together a touring group called Orchestra Morphine which barnstormed clubs back in 2000 (& which totally rocked-- a 13 piece jazz-rock ensemble playing the old catalog and then some-- I saw them at the Masquerade here in Atlanta) --and through which they met an upcoming guitarist/vocalist: Laurie Sergant. The new trio is called Twinemen, and they have a couple of albums out: the hard-to-find first album (what was that damn thing called? --you know, I bet it's in the same box with the Afroskull CD) and a relatively new release, Sideshow.

I'm still digesting Sideshow. I'll know my favorites off of that one in another couple of days (I'm not going to be able to update until December; so, yeah, it's all good) (Some music hits right away, other tracks take time. I try to avoid snap judgements here.)

Also on this afternoon's menu is a wide-ranging collection from Wrasse records, a compilation humbly titled Sound of the World, a mix of tracks selected by the BBC's Saturday night DJ Charlie Gillett. For just a second I balked at paying $20 bucks for a CD, but I did it anyway, and was rewarded when I found out SotW is actually a two disc set, and as such (33 damn tracks, slacker) is definitely worth the money.

(I'm uploading a chunk of samples to prove my point)
(or a partial chunk, netscape isn't being accomodating at the moment. I'll upload as opportunities present themselves)

Radio Free Bender / the soundtrack
if this sounds good to you, you should think about either upgrading your Tabulas account (poss. broken), or just sending money to Roy randomly. [link broken, for now] (hey, Roy-- dude, you need to make it easier for us to just randomly send you money.) (I'm just saying...)

At this rate, I'll be too drunk to post at midnight.

But then again, when has a slight chemical imbalance stopped me from posting? (coherency isn't a big thing on this blog. We'll go for volume over substance 9 times out of 10)

The internal argument has already started; I'm sure they're be some post at midnight for Nano. Even if I have to stall all systems now and go to sleep, we'll be back at midnight. Is it a miscalculation? Or is it just a matter of (at this hour) still having beer sitting in the bottom of the fridge?

I'm not a total wreck yet. I've finished uploading the last of the (current batch) of tracks to Radio Free Bender; and let me just say now-- dude, it's free; if you don't like it then yeah, you can have your money back.

I you do like it, then consider giving money to the appropriate artist, some way or another. This is how the system works.


ref: Ave. Q
"the internet is for porn" [cackle] [chuckle]