Spider Pan

Rode home with a friend from work today and ended up discussing the rubbernecking-worthy spectacle that is Julie Taymor's Spider-Man: Turn Off The Dark.

My friend observed that at this point--after a concussion, broken wrists, broken ankles, and all manner of other rigging related, um, mistakes--that most people are now attending the show out of the morbid hope that they'll witness some poor, anonymous actor's death.

Which made me think, that Taymor bitch has managed to turn Broadway into NASCAR...

Out Of The Deep

So, as of last night, my involvement with Deep In Vein has officially come to a close. It was an amicable split; we simply ended up having different ideas of where to take the band.

The downside is that the instrumentals were strong, and were founded on what I consider a very satisfying musical philosophy. I'll miss playing them at unconscionable decibels. The upside is that my main focus has only ever been blues-based rock guitar. I joined Deep In Vein as a bassist because at the time nobody was looking for a lead guitarist (when are they ever?) and I wanted to keep my performing muscles exercised. (That's what he said.) I stuck around because I dug the music.

Lately though, I've been working with another project, a more straight-ahead, hard rock kinda band that I've been writing material and playing honest-to-god lead guitar for. So in a cosmic way, this seems like a fitting time to transition fully into what I was hoping to do in the first place. 'Cause, ya know, the cosmos cares about shit like that. Ahem.

So I wish the peeps in whatever becomes of Deep in Vein the best of luck.

...And I look forward to the reunion tour!

Holy Shit

I just...they cured a man of HIV.

They cured a man of HIV.

I just...holy shit.

Hangman

This x-mas prank/macabre decoration is the best thing on the web at this precise moment.

People have just started putting up their seasonal adornments, so climbing a ladder and stringing lights and the like is already on their mind. What a beautiful way to turn that bit of absorption against them.

And my cynical self guesses that trying to save the fake person on the roof might be the most care for their fellow man most of those people expend all season...

A Nativity Scene

God bless Anderson Cooper.

The smack down he lays on Texas Rep. Leo Berman, over Berman's unshakeable fantasy that Barack Obama is not actually an American citizen, is truly something satisfying to behold. Cooper's approach isn't overly antagonistic or bombastic. Rather, it's the kind of patient, respectful probing that Socrates made famous through Plato. (Different than the kind of probing he practiced with Plato, though I've heard Anderson might not be averse to that line of discourse either.) Cooper simply shows his evidence and asks questions, which--as anyone who's ever desperately wanted to verbally string up an idiot knows--is a monumental show of poise on his part.

As for the birther issue, while I've reflexively rolled my eyes at it for years now, I think I've finally come to terms with the fact that I. Just. Don't. Get. It.

Most liberal bloggers say it's rooted in racism--Barack is black; he can't be an American President! So, the birth certificate issue is, what, the white, rightwing racist dogwhistle for the post-Jim Crow era? The bigots can't say out loud that a black man is unfit to be Commander in Chief--because they'd be ridden out of town--so this is the codeword they've settled on, "birth certificate"?

Look, I grew up in Atlanta, Georgia, within sight of Stone Mountain. (I mean, c'mon.) I think I have a pretty good eye for this brand of hateful lunacy, just from years of exposure, if nothing else. Maybe I've lost my touch after some years here in the North but...I just don't see the racism here.

If I may distinguish one venom from another for a second: the white male supremacist doesn't register foreign blacks in his mythology. I would argue, in some sense, that he prefers them. "Go back to Africa!" and all that. His problem with African-Americans is precisely their American-ness, as it represents a clear threat to the image of his own. (I'm terribly tempted to make a "through a mirror darkly" joke...and I realize I just passive-aggressively did!)

The hubbub over the teleprompters on the other hand, now that I immediately understood. The idea that he couldn't speak so well, so properly, without outside guidance (from white handlers, I would imagine) goes back to the fundamental sneer bigots employ against educated black people being "articulate." Bing, bing, Bubba wins the spittoon!

But Obama being Kenyan, being other. I dunno. No buzzers go off. Which leads me to think that it's more just hopeful thinking on the teabaggers' part--a magical way to get rid of a political enemy. We'll just wish him away, they say. And believe me, I understand the desire. If someone came up to me in 2006 and said that George W. Bush was actually born in Ciudad Juarez because Barbara heard there was cheap formaldehyde down south, well, I'd be awfully tempted to believe it.

But I'd be wrong.

Random Thought: Doucheness

How long before hipsters start using Walkmans instead of iPods...?

Nudie Pics

This whole TSA bodyscanning issue makes me terribly cross. Cross, I tell you!

Personally, I don't want some random dude/dudette simultaneously looking at me or my wife naked and potentially shortening our lives. I married my lovely wife because I liked the idea that I was the only person who would get to see her naked and because I'm hoping to spend a nice, long life with her. For folks keeping track, those are exact opposites of what the TSA is offering us.

There are many interesting angles to this, but the one that amuses me most is the idea that this may be the first issue of Obama's presidency that crosses ideological lines. As a left-leaner, I don't like it because I find it invasive and unnecessary, only good for conditioning the public to accept more and more outrageous assaults on our liberty and privacy in the name of fear.

However, I also understand a conservative's take on the matter--resisting the unnecessary growth of government; supporting an airport's ability to hire security firms it prefers--as well as that of the fiscal types pointing out the 6% drop in ridership (pdf, first result) that accompanied the rise of this demeaning security theater after 9/11 and are worried about further blows to the economy.

I mean, hell, I think even conservative Christians would nod right along with me when I talk about my disinterest in the woman to whom I made sacred vows being photographed naked by a stranger. And those people are batshit, especially when it comes to questions of a woman's right to her body! And yet, there we'd be, agreeing.

So here we are, Red America and Blue America, sitting at the table of bipartisanship for the first real time since Obama's election. It must be a relief for the President to finally have an issue where the winning side is also the right side, and to stand up with liberals and conservatives alike as our Chief and make clear that we are all the change we've been waiting for.

Sorry? Oh, you say he supports the scans and the pat-downs?

Dammit....

Bow Before The Bogg

From time to time, I enjoy testing my skill at nailing down the Shiller from Wasiller with the sharpest pins of wit and derision I can muster. It's a kind of cross-tent carnival game: I'm over at the one with the pop-gun and the stuffed animals, and she's a circus freak. It just works out.

Still, it's this amateur pastime of mine that makes me appreciate the level the pros play at.

TBogg's just...good.

More Bush

Speaking of Bush, I think moving his upcoming memoir, Decision Points, to the True Crime section of your local bookstore is a truly fine idea.

Though seeing as I'm a firm believer in accurate labeling, and since this is Bush we're talking about, I'm torn between that and the ESL shelf...

No, Just....No...

There are so many things wrong with the idea that Barbara Bush showed little George W. her miscarried fetus back in the day that it makes my fingers hurt when I consider cataloging them, and it makes my stomach turn thinking about what I'd be cataloging.

Yes, there's the idea of a fetus in a jar to begin with, as well as the unsavory nature of most pro-life politics--to which Georgie-Porge apparently turned after this macabre vignette--and let's not forget the nauseating fact of W's very existence (natch). Yet, the most fundamentally disturbing element of the story is that the fetus is just more proof that someone actually engaged in voluntary intercourse with Mrs. Bush...and was happy enough about it to finish.

Know horror.

Mawage: Year One!

Three years and two days ago, I kissed a girl.

One year ago today, I kissed that same girl, making her my wife.

This morning, I kissed the very same girl. And then I made coffee and she fed the cats. Ain't married life grand?

According to some tradition or other (one that apparently dates back to the Middle Ages, the interwebs tell me), the married couple on each anniversary is supposed to gift each other things made out of a certain material, like wood (heh) or crystal. Now, because we're corny, you've-been-the-love-of-my-life-since-I-first-saw-you-we-don't-need-no-stinkin'-piece-of-government-red-tape-to-know-what's-what types, we've already done paper and cotton (years one and two, respectively), even though we've only technically been married a year, so today we're supposed to give each other something made out of leather.

Why? Dunno. Three years seems like a little soon for a relationship to need spicing up. I would think maybe the seven year mark is more appropriate. The funny thing is neither of us really has an idea about what to get the other--though we've both suggested a cured ha'bunny pelt at one time or another. (For those playing at home, Eliza often looks and acts as if she was half cat-half bunny, and the English used to call a half penny a "ha'penny." Again yes, we're geeks. And yes, we joke about flaying and tanning her hide because we often want to kill her.)

If nothing else, I have promised my love the leathery feel of our skin after 60 years of wedded bliss. As far as gifts go, this one may take a while to deliver, but it'll be sooooo worth it in the end...

Yaawwnnn.....Anything New Happen Lately?

Bullet points with butterfly wings:

Republicans take the House. Sure, it sucks. But Dems didn't really turn out and the GOP once more relied on a constituency that has one foot in the voting booth and one in the grave. We can wait them out. The upshot is that the standard GOP types will now be forced to share their bed with their feral, teabagger cousins, while, conversely, members of the Blue Dog caucus were sent home in droves (which must hurt since they're used to taking their ball and going home when they say so), thus freeing the remaining Dems from at least a portion of their pandering duties.

On that note...Pelosi. She's stated she's interested in running for Minority Leader. Good. When I read comments like this, saying 1) why keep Pelosi? people hate her!, 2) if we have liberals in charge Obama will be caught in the middle, and 3) we should have more conservative leadership while we're in the minority!--I then set a puppy Havanese on fire before blurting 1) we keep her because she's proven good at her job (even now) and because the Republican puke funnel can make many Americans hate anyone, just look at Obama!, 2) well, I know which point of the triangle he should side with if he's pressed, and 3) um...what?

Olbermann is suspended without pay. Again, it sucks. But what I really want to know, given the specifics of MSNBC's rule against political giving, is if they really with-a-straight-face-no-fingers-crossed earnestness believe that Countdown is straight news rather than opinion. But even then, how do they think Olby's personal contributions (which are allowed) negatively affected his job performance, assuming he made clear the money wasn't on behalf of his employer? MSNBC Pres. Phil Griffin: today's most maybe biased, politically tin-eared person...in the world!

Okay, I'm sure I'll have more bullet points soon, probably aimed at your head from a car window (cause life's been a bit stressful lately).

Now go let your auto-correct misspell some tongue. Sorry, something.

Demotivate

Or an epic poster for their bathroom, hung opposite the toilet, so they can contemplate their sins...

Unbeleever Kat Cannot Eet Yer Soul Cuz You No Haz Won

This is awesome:

It makes me want to write a sequel to the brilliant Grandma's Dead: Breaking Bad News With Baby Animals, something like God Is Dead: From The Mouths of (Cute Animal) Babes.

Yeah...

Deep In Vein: The Re-In-Veining

Okay, so I feel I've been successful enough in revamping my relationship to this blog that I can go ahead and indulge in a little self-promotion (gasp) without backsliding into the intellectually timid habits of yore.

(clears throat, puffs out chest)

Deep In Vein has a gig this Friday the 29th at the Acheron, in Brooklyn. 8pm, $8 at the door. We're playing alongside some pretty badass folk: the Communion; Flourishing; and headlined by Clinging to the Trees of a Forest Fire. It's gonna be loud and it's probably gonna be fast. Except for us. We're loud and drone-y, all the way. It's good to be different.

All the deets are on the DIV web site, under Upcoming Shows. So...yeah.

Muppets Assemble!

My wife loves the Muppets; I love the Avengers. And, as a child resembles a blend of its parents, it clearly follows that this awesome sketch by Caanan Gall is an attempt to imagine what the fruit of our joined loves will yield. Behold:

A Koster-Hurt family portrait.

How did this Caanan person know?

Gimme A Bloody Mary, Mary!

If what this man says is true, that gays are just like alcoholics, then that would explain a lot about why gays are so fabulous and why they never lack for social, um, lubrication.

It's the dopamine, sweety!

And can you imagine how much beer money I would save a year if I just chose to prefer cock? Well whatevs, I'd end up blowing the extra cash on Abercrombie&Fitch tank tops and old van Damme movie rentals in the end anyway.

("Blowing" "van Damme" "in the end"? Oh heavens to Betsy, the transformation's already started....)

The Cart Before The Horse's Ass

I was reading this bit of ridiculousness--wherein the Washington Post hosts a livechat with the not-imitated-enough Dan Savage to discuss the recent spate of gay teen suicides...and then "balances" that with a response by the not-overlooked-enough Tony Perkins (whom I would call a douchebag except Christianists tend to vehemently oppose even the most backwards methods of female reproductive health)--when a particular statement by Mr. Perkins jumped out at me:

"Homosexuals experience higher rates of mental health problems in general, including depression."

Is it too much human empathy to ask of dear Tony to imagine that if, during his formative years, he were told by everyone around him that his sexual orientation was an abomination and an embarrassment and he was even occasionally beaten because of it that he might not be prone to a higher rate of mental health problems, especially fucking depression?

These people literally cannot get shit more backwards.

Random! Random! Read All About It!

Since the theme of the day does appear to be a random firing of neurons based on the stream of my google reader, I will admit that I have long had a soft spot for the gaudy verbal stylings of Wonkette.

I mean, c'mon, any piece of writing that includes this sentence--"Not in this Country, and not under our Dual Jurisdiction of the Declaration of Independence, Social Security, and the Bible."--and ends with a reference to Circuit City, such a piece of prose is like costume jewelry on the long arm of Liberty.

Wonkette : Stephen Colbert, if drinking had ruined his dignified diction...

Inferior Stars

Okay, I thought they shot people on the L.A. Freeway for less than this.

Have standards on the west coast fallen so far? Or did the same luck that bought these Jersey Shore clones a tour bus on which to paint their sad imitations of sapienship also spare them a hail of righteous lead?

Their continued existence is either a case for the existence of fortune or one against the existence of an Almighty.

Either way, given their continued existence, no one wins...

Random Thought: A Way Of Seeing

Just knocked out a bit of light design over at Dixon Place (re-teching, with great pleasure, Kim Katzberg's Penetrating the Space), and thinking ahead to lighting Caborca's two plays coming up at CSV in November, and I had the sudden, very strong (very random) desire to know what the great John Berger would say about modern light design for theater.

I also have no idea how to find out if he has, in fact, already commented. Cause, I mean, how do you google his level of profundity?

Vagina-ectomy

If you've ever wondered what it sounds like to remove someone's vagina, or what the most awesome eleven words in the English language are, you have to go read this.

In Extremis II

I'm not alone...

In Extremis

Kos says the Dems are drowning because they weren't progressive enough. Brendan Nyhan says it's a myth that parties benefit from veering to their respective extremes (left, in the case of the Dems), and that, rather, the Donks are drowning because the economy is weak.

Now, it may be true, as many point out and the teabaggers prove, that pols using red meat (i.e., veering to the extreme) to fire up the base tends to alienate undecideds and so imperil that party's electoral prospects. But I'm just gonna poke my little mouse head up and squeek that the economy remains weak precisely because the buh-Donk-uh-Donks have not pursued a progressive monetary policy. As Atrios continuously points out: we're ruled by people who think 10% unemployment isn't a crisis. That's not level-headed centrism, as I gather Nyhan would think. That's Hoover-ism.

I restate my fervent wish that there was a viable third choice in this country. We have the Party of No and the Party of Not Yet. The party of bullies and the party of co-dependents and sycophants.

Nyhan is right about the symptoms, but Kos is right about the cause. Kos is right because progressivism isn't running to the left, it's running to the true center of this country. And if Dems ever get that through their cowardly skulls we'll see a blossoming of the wise left the likes of which followed WWII.

Commence holding of breath in 3...2...1...

Extra!

This article on military sightings of extraterrestrials reminds me of a friend's father who used to tell stories of his stint as a comm man in the Army (I think).

This was Vietnam-era, and if memory serves he was stationed, or for some reason, operating in Morocco. (I remember that clearly because my ten-year-old brain loved chewing on that wonderful word. Mooorrrr-rooocckkk-coooeee. Yup, still tasty.)

Now, this dad was a rather conservative guy--Republican, non-church going but still Catholic, small business owner, etc.--qualities I associate with a more traditional view of the limits of our world (rightly or wrongly). So it was especially interesting to me when, on occasion, he would talk about his time in Morocco, and how he and his fellow soldiers would watch oddly shaped ships dance in the sky and then disappear. He believed without question that the crafts weren't human--they would change colors and alter course at impossible angles and at great speed--an opinion bolstered by the wealth of time he and his mates were given to study them. He said it happened so often while he was there that the guys more or less viewed the spectacle the way we watch late night TV.

Anyway, there are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, and all that....

The Good Word

Underground preachers are pretty common here, as anyone who depends on the subway can tell you. As part of my route from home to work every morning, I happen to pass through the tunnel that connects Times Square with Port Authority. For as long as I've been here, a nook of this tunnel has played host to a group of Proselyteers, whose church--a couple of folding tables with placards featuring the harsher sayings of the Bible in large fonts--I've struggled to find a witty name for for years now. ("Under the Rock of Ages"? "Sub-Corpus Christi"? It'll come to me...)

Today, like most days, someone tried to hand me a pamphlet with the Good Word and, like most days, I politely declined. But it again got me mulling the ongoing discussion about why atheists don't proselytize, and for the first time I felt in my gut that our absence from such public forums was a bit sad.

Here was a religious man spending his precious time trying to get his fellow travelers to think about the afterlife. Wouldn't it be of infinitely greater value for one of us non-religious types to impress upon our fellows that they'd be better served by concentrating on the treasures of this life?

Then again, knowing how absurd the idea is of changing a stranger's entire belief system through one sloppily-printed flier handed off while said stranger is walking from the 7 train to the blue line at 9:45 in the morning...maybe by not wasting hours thus proselytizing we atheists are indeed treasuring the little time we have on this earth.

Hallelujah.

Google Reader...Win?

A (Golden) Watershed Moment

According to SiteMeter, someone in Germany found my site through this search.

Ladies and Gents, I have arrived.

9/11 (2)

Okay, this day also reminds me of something else that I only rarely think about. Whatever logic underlies this memory goes against how I view the world now in almost every way--and not just because it came from the Discovery Channel.

I remember distinctly being maybe ten or eleven, and watching a program on Nostradamus in the living room. One of the predictions they were discussing was that in the year 2001, a man in a turban would launch a great fire from the sky, bringing chaos (or whatever the language was they used back in 1988-ish) to the precise latitude and longitude of Manhattan.

At the time, 2001 was very far in the future, meaning it was still in grown-up land--the land of money and mobility and doing what one pleases. Since the idea of growing up and living elsewhere was still unfathomable to me, I instead worried about the nearest adult. My mother was cooking dinner at the time, so I ran into the kitchen and asked whether she had any intention of being in New York City in 2001. She looked confused and admitted that she didn't. Relieved, I went back to watching TV.

Being generally skeptical of prophets of any stripe, I share this little reminiscence without comment...

9/11

Happy 9/11, everyone!

Of all the many vivid memories I have of that day nine years ago, one in particular stands out to me today.

After the attacks, I joined a massive crowd walking across the 59th St. bridge back into Queens from Manhattan, all of us alternating between watching the road beneath our feet and looking at the epic plume of black smoke rising from the southern tip of the island. As I got to the end of the bridge and turned left into Astoria (where I lived at the time), a man I was walking beside turned to me and asked me what I thought would happen next.

Now, I had given two flips about politics in any form up until that morning. I had had the vague awareness that Bush was a total tool, but couldn't find the energy to get worked up about it. And I had had even less interest, if it were possible, in matters of international policy.

But the first thing that popped out of my mouth, almost before I'd had the chance to think it, was: "our government will go after revenge instead of justice and the whole thing will get worse."

And then Bush's (and Cheney's) real presidency started.

In a way, with the Koran burnings and the Park51 nonsense and Obama's lies about our role in Iraq, the truly onerous parts of Bush's administration are ongoing. And the very first political thought my young mind had ever formulated has proved distressingly spot-on.

BBQ, anyone?

The Ultimate In Masculine Protection

The most expensive sports cup you'll ever own....

Option C? ...Please?

Looking at the Dems' tanking numbers and the Repubs' rising star prior to the mid-term elections, I admit that I desperately wish there were a viable third party in American politics.

The voters (myself included) are rightfully dissatisfied with the tepid action the Democrats have taken regarding the economy--and job creation in particular--and want the bums out. But the only people they can replace the bums with are Republican cranks who would inarguably make the entire economic situation worse.

If votes were bullets, the electorate right now is angrily aiming at its own feet for lack of a third, better target.

Helluva sitch here, eh....

Homocentrism Tastes Funny

...At least, in a different way than the title might lead you to think.

I'm watching a murder mystery where the killer(s) find inspiration for their crimes in the works of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse, as told by the Bible's crazy uncle, John.

I'm also watching my cats wrestle with each other in what appears to be a serious contest of wills.

And I think to myself, "a book written almost two thousand years ago that predicts the end of life for every species on the entire planet has only humans to talk about." Then I watch my cats fight some more, and remark that the intensity of that relationship--the reason they pay attention to each other the way they do--is because their genes are so close, and I think about how dogs do the same thing, and how barnacles on a fucking dock do the same thing, and in the face of that I'm forced to look at the movie about the Apocalypse and think...

"Yeah, the world's very existence depends on an invisible being that governs all life but is undoubtedly predisposed towards operating like a primitive human from basically the same time period as the original text was written. Totes. Fer sher. LOL"

Okay, back to the so far not terrible movie....

~~~~~~~~~

Update: It was terrible.

Le Sigh...

I said in a previous post that I'm most disappointed in the things Obama hasn't done: closing Gitmo; repealing by executive order (a swipe of the pen!) the silliness that is DADT; and now...ending the war in Iraq.

I voted for Obama not just because Chuckles McCain was a shambling shell of a man who'd have trouble being consistent about his own birth date, but because the talent Obama exhibited running his campaign for the Senate and then his nigh flawless run for President led me to believe that the man could get shit done, that if we made him the executive he would execute some proper MF'ing policy.

And he has, of course. Stopping a global economic meltdown counts, as does the momentous health care reform bill. And yet, several huge issues remain inexplicably fuddled. Like Iraq. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have so many of our soldiers coming home (after how many stop-loss orders?), but 50K left standing is no small commitment--potentially for a decade, mind you--and the idea that these are entirely support units is ridiculous.

I guess I'm disappointed because the man is usually so very good at calling a situation what it is. To have him say that combat operations in Iraq are over, that the war is over, is simply absurd.

And I really wanted to leave such bald-faced absurdity back in the Bush years where it belongs...

Will He Please Just Stop?

When will Carter finally admit that he's the worst American of all time? C'mon, he's actually talking to the North Koreans! Doesn't he know this simply gives their regime legitimacy?

His downward spiral is just getting too hard to watch....

Get Off My Lawn!

I admit it: I've been a 70-year-old man since I was ten. I happily read Texts From Last Night and chuckle at the tawdry-baudy 20-somethings discussing their STD's in 160 words or less. And I chuckle at myself especially when I come across one like this:

(860)
There is too much vodka and too much dick.

I chuckle because I've never been interested in a woman (girl?) who thinks that way...and also because it reminds me that I have always harbored a deep and abiding prejudice against guys who think that way. It always struck me as, fundamentally, a user mentality--flesh as commodity; thrill as a substitute for experience. And I've felt this way since I was first aware of sexuality (which was pretty early).

It's made for some occasionally rocky relationships with other guys....

This is not to say that I begrudge like-minded people choosing to look no deeper into one another than the bulge in someone's pants--or the two in someone's shirt. I guess I'm just surprised to be reminded of how, despite my socially liberal roots, I'm still entirely uninterested in the socks*.


*I think the meaning can be deduced. But still, my favorite reader should create a post or page elucidating this phrase. 'Cause it's awesome.

Dating Rule #1

Nature demonstrates the importance of dinner and a drink....

Heh.

~~~~~~~

I just realized this makes two insect related posts in one day. Am I just cimex/muscae-curious? Hungry maybe? I really couldn't say....

Bedbugging Out

I don't see movies very often. When I have, I've usually gone to the AMC in Times Sq. I thought it only played host to some annoyingly loud patrons but, um...it's a little worse than that.

When my brother and I lived in Harlem, we had to deal with our own bedbug infestation. (A tip: you can't kill them with a bug bomb, it only drives them into surrounding apartments. Thanks, friendly neighbors!) We couldn't sit on the couch; we had to wrap our mattresses in plastic to keep the wee beasts contained while we slept. And still the crafty little fuckers would find a way. (My brother finally took to sleeping in his chair, and even then he would wake up with bites that mirrored the chair's creases. Yeah, gross.)

Almost makes one long for the glory days of DDT. I mean, what's a little diabetes and breast cancer in the face of a good night's sleep?

~~~~~~~~

P.S. I know it's because the city's citizenry lean heavily blue, but I think it's funny that Democrats are 10% more likely to suffer infestation than Republicans. What can I say, the awful little bloodsuckers can sense a handout...

Drive To Succeed Gone Wrong

Clearly, Ms. Montag's cosmetic surgeon's Jeep had a few rolls that could have been removed. Buh-dum!

What? Heartless, you say? Yes, well--that was part of the weight removed during my last procedure.

Okay, but yeah it's a pretty unfortunate accident...

My Very First Edition Of...

What Digby said.

And I dig the out-and-out snark. She's skirting TBogg territory...

I Will ImBieber Your Soul!

A band mate from Deep In Vein points out that the hardcore metal group Cannibal Corpse is pursuing a new and different artistic path.



Scary how accurately Corpse is now capturing the horrors of the modern world, isn't it? Hail our new Justin Bieber led overlords!

Moron(i)

Having just watched the episode of South Park in question, I'm a little confused as to the judgment call that it was a "hatchet job" on the Mormon religion. (You know, the one with the gold plates no one saw and the apparently Sicilian angel Moroni explaining how the Native Americans are actually ancient Jews...yeah, that one.)

Now, I'm not what most churchgoers would call "irrational, unquestioned belief" friendly, but I thought Matt and Trey handled the issue as gently as mass media entertainment requires. I mean hell, they even let the little Mormon kid Gary have the last words, which--if Mitt Romney has his way--prophetically were "suck my balls." What more could any believer in God As Really Wise Alien Man ask for?

By the way, Matt and Trey's best joke may just be the other religious people laughing at this send-up of those silly Mormons. How could they ever believe such weird stuff? Tsk....

~~~~~~~

Update: I mean, compare their treatment of Mormonism to the spiked gloves they use to handle Scientology. Brutal.

I Ain't No Lawyerin' Type...

...But I do live on the east coast in an elitist Blue enclave, so obviously--arugula and fine Bordeaux in hand; condescending smirk on face--I'm qualified to comment on the legal question that has arisen from Prop H8ers' failed dreams to never, ever again have to imagine two bearded men kissing.

(Why does that image keep popping up? By the power of Christ! Christ...who had a beard...as did St. Peter...hm, I wonder what Jesus really meant when he was talking about putting his church on Peter's rock...agh! there's that image again!)

The question now is whether the H8ers have "standing" to bring an appeal. Among other judicial questions, the H8ers must demonstrate that they are directly injured by Judge Walker's repeal of the law, as only injured parties may sue. Someone has to demonstrate that a given law actively violates their rights.

For simplicity, think Rosa Parks. Rosa couldn't have just claimed a seat at the front of her sister's kitchen table and called it done when her brother-in-law told her to move. She had to go sit her butt where it was going to be actively disenfranchised.

With that in mind, I find all the handwringing about how the denial of standing is the equivalent of "winning on a technicality"--as opposed to on the merits--deeply wrongheaded. For me, the idea of standing goes directly to the heart of the thing: the bigots have long hung their case on the idea that gay marriage somehow threatens heterosexual unions. But if they can't even summon the evidence for standing, if they can't summon evidence that someone's--anyone's!--personal, straight marriage is demonstrably and directly harmed, then the very heart of their argument is voided.

That is the farthest thing from a technicality that I can imagine.

After all, if no one is injured by marriage equality, why outlaw it?

Holy Crap

Andrew Sullivan, he of the Atlantic magazine, had a post yesterday quoting Adam Serwer, entitled "Extra Punishment." Serwer's quote reads, in part:

Two states in the union, South Carolina and Alabama, segregate their HIV-positive inmates, a policy that is essentially a compound punishment on top of whatever sentence they've already received. They're forced to wear markers identifying their status, they're denied access to many of the same privileges and programs that inmates who aren't HIV positive have [...]. Being HIV positive means that they're forced to live under maximum-security conditions regardless of the severity of their crimes.

After reading it, I sent Mr. Sullivan an email with what I conceded was probably an off-base musing and then closed my computer for the night...only to find today that my email is itself quoted in a follow-up post on the matter (which was edited for clarity, thank you Daily Dish staff). Ahem:

I may be exposing my ignorance, but my first reaction to the separation of HIV+ inmates from the general population is that it's a misguided attempt to deal with a particular long-term effect of rape and infection. I'd be very interested in debating how to stop rape from being an ipso facto part of many people's sentences in this country.

The end of that sentence (and the email), was "which could potentially lead to HIV+ people not being singled out as part of their sentences...." (And yes, I did make use of my beloved, informalizing ellipses in front of a real writer. And yes yes, I know this means I just now quoted myself in my own forum, but that's why this is a blog--you're supposed to indulge your more uncouth, more egotistical impulses. At least, that's what I've gleaned from the Teabagger blogosphere...)

But for realz, how cool is this?

I found Sullivan initially because of his strong, clear stance on gays' civil rights, and ended up sticking around for the mostly right, sometimes wrong, but always thoughtful ideas of an avowed conservative (as separate from Republican or Libertarian). Now, to be quoted in one of Sullivan's posts after devouring his work these past many months--to think that some tiny thought I had in my little ol' head actually added something, however briefly, to the national debate, well...

Speaking as the guy with the ten site visits a week (hello newcomers from Korea, Dubai, and Italy, by the way!), this is like getting my two minutes on American Idol: I may not be able to sing, but at least everybody knows I was here!

Actually, I can quantify how cool this is: my wife even thinks it's cool...which mostly just confirms that we're both big dorks.

Polattacking

Having come to my political awareness during the early years of George W's first term, and watched the destruction he reaped thereafter, I have to say I kinda disagree with this idea that the president should always be "politicking."

I think Obama simply expressed his point a little more crudely than necessary. It's true that politics and government are inseparable. However, what the President seems to be saying to me is that he's now shifting his focus for the next three months to campaigning. "Campaigning" also seems to be how brooklynbadboy understands Obama's use of the word "politicking."

So, taking that common rhetorical ground, I just want to point out that all Bush did for his eight years was campaign and the results were disastrous. The neocon crew of ne'er-do-wells had no interest in the act or purpose of governing, they only cared about winning. It's all they understood. (It obviously doesn't help that their entire philosophy revolved around the uselessness of government. Kinda hard to run an organization effectively when you are fundamentally inimical to its purpose.)

Now, having seen what the alternative looked like during the Bush years, I, for one, am willing to give the President a little leeway on this point. Even though I disagree with some of the things he's done the last twenty months--well, mostly I'm disappointed by what he hasn't done (cough, Gitmo, DADT, Iraq, cough)--I happily concede that he has been spending his considerable energies actually governing.

That said, ya know, three months is a long time, Sir; please don't abandon the helm entirely. 'Cause, ahem, sometimes good government is the best kind of campaigning.

Jes' saying....

Hard Time Killing Floor Blues

I just spent the last day or two learning this song, originally by Skip James and given new, wonderful life by Chris Thomas King. I had to arrange it for myself using only the lower three strings--since the intended DADFAD tuning would play hell on a normal guitar set-up--but the final effect is undiminished.

I desperately want to perform this live, as a surprise mostly. I have no idea where it would fit in a proper set, but the simplicity of it reminds me of early Hebrew writing at its best, and I dare say Erich Auerbach would agree: it's elision at its most expressive, transmitting the profound despair of human existence more in its silence than in its sound.

One note at a time, simply played, just like life. Both disturbing and elating...

Gun Control

He'z no got it.

And all I can think about is this:

Gunning for love...oh, and cops too...

I enjoy firing guns, but c'mon y'all, everything in its right place. Doesn't bringing a tool designed solely to kill to a ceremony honoring the generation of new life and the continuation of society seem a little, I dunno, cognitively dissonant?

Then again, in the case of the Hutaree it may in fact be perfectly consistent if you're actively pursuing the dissolution of your country.

As for the incident in Akcagoze, I guess Turkey really is a Westernized nation....

From The Dept. Of Polishing My Fingernails On My Smoking Jacket

Heh.

Mawage: Putting the "Itchin" In "Tradition"

Via Sullivan, we have an argument for more traditional marriages.

Ha! Okay, I guess that was a sorta kinda an in-joke for anyone who knows that Sully is a very outspoken proponent of what Republicans call "non-traditional" marriages. Like that? Eh? Anyone? Bueller?

Moving on....

I disagree entirely that marriages would benefit from being standardized and, frankly, I think the writer Sullivan quotes misses the point entirely. The trappings of a marriage ceremony don't much matter; the vows are what place the two individuals in the greater stream of human life on this Earth--the pledge to fidelity, to respect, to support.

In his own photo-negative, misanthropic way, David Mamet has a nice anecdote about this:

"I was once at a marriage ceremony where the parties swore to 'try to be faithful, to try to be considerate....' The marriage was, of course, doomed. Any worthwhile goal is difficult to accomplish. To say of it 'I'll try' is to excuse oneself in advance. Those who respond to our requests with 'I'll try' intend to deny us, and call on us to join in the hypocrisy--as if there were some merit in intending anything other than accomplishment."

This is the standard I held to when Erin and I wrote our vows: "I take you...," "I promise to...," etc. And I think as long as these fundamental words are spoken, as long as this contract between two people is simply and unequivocally stated, then it doesn't matter whether the surrounding shenanigans happen inside or outside, at an altar or on top of a Ferris wheel.

After all, each wedding is a celebration of a unique couple joining in a universal institution, a confluence of the singular and the eternal. It seems to me that a personalized ceremony (reflecting the uniqueness of the couple) using thorough, unambiguous vows (thereby acknowledging the eternal) is just the right way to recognize such monumental themes...

Wrong Angle

I'm always amused by the intellectual laziness of arguments like this:

A devout Southern Baptist, (Nevada Republican Senate nominee Sharron) Angle has said she felt a "calling from God" to run for the Senate, a comment opponents mocked. She also took heat for saying she doesn't believe in abortion in any case, including rape and incest, because "God has a plan and a purpose for each one of our lives."

I had a wonderful argument in college with a believer who espoused this same line, and my thought experiment in response came down to, "what if God's plan for this 'person' were for the proto-he or -she to be aborted?"

Did she have an answer? No. Was I being harsh? Yeah. But it's good practice to follow the snaking paths of one's beliefs to their possible implications. Not that believers are generally skilled at such an exercise--or else they wouldn't be believers.

I only ever occasionally find the energy to engage in the debate about God's plan, which is essentially the age-old attempt to reconcile free will with the concept of an all-knowing, all-powerful deity. Such a reconciliation is impossible since the latter half of the equation is false. You can spend a lifetime worrying the thing over--millions and millions of people, in fact, have--and it would be nothing more than a life spent swimming in circles in a very small mental fishbowl.

Anyway, you have fun with Ms. Angle, Nevada. Stay classy!

Sullied

I would say that Andrew Sullivan again provides a rigorous and right defense of the continuing struggle for equality for gay Americans.

Ahem....

I would say that, but he's teh gay, and as we learned from the Teabaggers' reaction to Judge Walker (since it has become about the man, as they view him through the prism of his decision), being teh gay obviously makes Sully terribly biased, so it doesn't count.

I'll say this about the Teabaggers, they know how to maintain beautiful minds...

History? What Story?

I find the figure 8 of stupid floating around the gay marriage ruling right now infinitely amusing. (C'mon, Prop 8--"figure 8 of stupid"--"infinitely" [the symbol 8, eh?], and I crammed all of that into a single sentence. I am so back in form.)

Okay, ready? Have your pain pills handy? Let's do it:

We have the 14th Amendment, one of the Republican Party's greatest achievements, passed to bring an end to the Dred Scott era and the idea that black people could never enjoy the rights of citizenship in this country. Fast forward--70% of black Californians who voted, voted "yes" on Prop 8, effectively relegating a minority of our population to second class citizenship. Yesterday, this ballot proposition was struck down on the grounds that it violated, you betcha!, the 14th Amendment, based on its Equal Protection Clause, the part of the amendment that enshrined citizenship for former slaves (ya know, black people) in the Constitution...which is (oh man, is this genius) the part of the amendment Republicans want to "revisit" as part of their Latino outreach progra...oh, sorry, as part of their election year war against illegal immigrants plopping brown fetuses on our soil and calling them Amurrcan.

Whew.

But hey, none of this counts since Judge Walker is teh gay.

Prop...Wait

So the judge who ruled that Prop 8 is unconstitutional is, we're being told, teh gay. And because he is teh gay, we're being told he should have recused himself from a case covering the legality of gay marriage.

Which just makes me wonder, does he have a long term partner whom he is otherwise not allowed to marry? Cause that would be a conflict of interest that might require recusal. Or is this a case of a single, 66-year-old friend of Mary simply announcing his desire for marital bliss, like some lonely bridesmaid?

But more seriously, where does one draw the line? Should a black judge recuse himself from a discrimination case? Should a female judge be allowed to preside over anything involving the glass ceiling?

Or, if Judge Walker is in fact teh gay, is this a basic reminder that members of the oppressed classes, when given the authority (see: Marshall, Thurgood), will act on behalf of justice in a way that the complacent majority would never find the energy for?

Hm....

Nah, I'm going with the "lonely bridesmaid"....

~~~~~~~~~

Postscript: And just imagine how supportive Prop H8ters would have been of Judge Walker's teh gayness if he'd upheld the initiative!

At least I was spared my side rolling out the Uncle Tom references. Small blessings....

On Target

Wal-Mart's ethical alter ego does the right thing:

We noted recently that Minnesota-based Target had availed itself of the new freedom created by the Citizen's United decision to give $150,000 to support far-right Minnesota gubernatorial candidate Tom Emmer. And in so doing they reaped a big backlash. Target's aim seems to have been to support Emmer's economic policies. But the backlash came over Emmer's extremely anti-gay policy stands. (He's also really against waiters.)

Target's CEO has now taken the pretty extraordinary step of issuing a public apology for the donation.

Let the shopping for tight fitting, soft cotton tank tops and gay wedding presents recommence!

~~~~~~~~~~~

Aw hell....

OMG, BTW!

Now that I'm back in the saddle, I feel honor-bound to point all ten of you towards this.

Shield your eyes at first; it's that kind of awesome.

Quote Of The Day: Hater Edition

A Facebook commenter watches a video of Stevie Ray Vaughn playing Texas Flood live and coughs:

"the guitar rules but the drum and bass will just put me to sleep. Still numb, player. I feel nothing! Way to masturbate all over the pentatonic scales while the rest of the band takes a nap, Stevie!"

To be fair, Stevie occasionally dribbles a few knuckle children on the Aeolian scale as well, but let's not quibble.

This is probably the most succinct summary of why I came (ahem) to SRV so late in the game, long after I fully appreciated Hendrix, Clapton, et. al. The man wields perfect technique in service of profoundly soulful riffs...and his rhythm section has all the feeling of a click track. I've told every drummer I've jammed with that I have no interest in their "playing dead" as a direct response to the (at first inscrutable) embarrassment I felt when I first heard Stevie's band. Play with me, not for me, I say.

I have less problem with the whole arrangement now, especially after he added in a keys player, but that's mostly because I've dismissed the issue as a flaw of the Texas Blues genre.

So, yeah.

P.S. The odd font size and formatting of this post completely elude me, try to fix it though I have....

He Got It Almost Right

According to entirely sane, totally not-gay religious person, John Hagee:

"The Rapture is the Great Escape! Escape from what? Escape from the Great Tribulation that will happen as soon as the church leaves the earth."

If by "Great Tribulation" when the church leaves the earth you mean a collective sigh of relief followed by an epic wine and cheese soiree because all the finger waggers have been sucked into the clouds, presumably to frown only at each other forever and ever amen....then yes, you're spot on.

The Creaking Door Of A Closing Confessional

I have to admit something. This admission is not only eased by the fact that no one will read it, it's also spurred by that fact.

I used to think it something of a curse that I never built much of a readership for this blog. After taking an extended break it occurred to me that a possible reason for this is that I had let this blog resemble its title--always meant half-facetiously--much too much. I was saying nothing, and sometimes I wasn't even saying it well.

Self-censorship is not always a bad thing. I won't ever get into any negative aspects of my social and/or artistic life in this space--I will leave those classy souls airing their spats on Facebook to their rarefied perches. But, reviewing most of my more, ahem, recent posts (assuming they can still be called that), I see that I had begun to limit myself almost entirely to the safety of posts announcing upcoming events. Obviously an effective strategy considering my whopping ten page views per week.

What started as a forum established with the hope that I could practice my wordsmithing and share the random deep and (mostly) shallow thoughts of my day-to-day existence had quietly sunk into the sterile cowardice of words for words' sake. This blog had passed out of the realm of self-censorship into straight up P.R. Not quite my original intention...

I'm not really sure how to make my planned transition, but I very much aim to return to subjects about which I have an interest and an opinion--politics, art, religion, and other various bullshit (did I just repeat myself?), etc. Relaxing into this will be tricky; it's not easy to loosen a locked jaw. I learned that on 7th Ave. But I will do my best. I mean, hell, I live in New York City...who really would notice another poor schlub screaming random liberal, anti-religious, absurdist-leaning Jeremiads in this neck of the woods?

I mean, hopefully a few more than usual, if I let those screeds actually reflect real feelings....but, you know, other than that....

Belize

A few observations...no, wait, a few updates!

My love and I are finally honeymooning, and--on the good advice of a friend--we are doing it in the Caribbean country of Belize. Google it. (I mean, a "Great Blue Hole"? How many countries can offer such straightforward gynecological-slash-Smurf jokes? Yeah, I said it Smurfette, you whore.)

Okay, on to the observations. This is a foreign country. Hm, let me clarify--this is a foreign country the way certain neighborhoods in the Bronx are foreign. The place is populated by low income, dual Spanish-English speakers who are living in below-middle-class-American environs. The UK won this corner of Central America from the Spanish in all those sugar/coffee/slave arguments they had back in the day, and allowed it to incorporate (as such) about 46 years ago. Bully!

The food is incredible. I'm currently suffering from a sinus infection and water on the ear--meaning I'm operating at about 3/5 capacity when it comes to the whole 5 senses thing--but even without the taste and smell I would need to truly appreciate my environment I can tell that the dishes being laid in front of me are pretty damned exquisite. I mean, they have a 20 sq. ft. drywall shack that serves the best falafel I've ever had, and I'm coming from NYC. What do you do with that? No wonder the host is smiling.

Um....it's also hot. The you're-the-butter-in-the-frying-pan-of-the-gods type hot. What are the gods cooking with our hard-earned calories, you ask? Awesomeness.

Also too: I don't give a fuck--as a New Yorker I have a god-given right to hate tourists even if I currently am one. Figure out how to walk down a sidewalk without inconveniencing everyone around you and without needlessly barking to the herd of slow moving buffalo you call a family and we're cool. Those seem like two good general rules, no matter where you are. White people, I swur.

Okay, back to the wonderful, lovely, beautiful wife!

~~~~~~~

Update: Pet a shark, a stingray, saw a sea turtle, climbed the 2,100-year-old Mayan ruins at Lamanai, drank way too much one night, and swam a lot, a lot. Overall, I love my wife very much, which is what this whole thing was about. Yay!

Deep In Vein: Here

O Devoted Readers, I have obviously let this blog slip. It's not that over the last couple months I've had fewer condescending thoughts about Sarah Palin, or the Republican party, or tall people's feet. Far from it.

Mostly, I just didn't have time to write about anything more than the occasional announcement about events which, let's face it, I could more easily communicate to the 10 people who read this blog through other forums. (Facebook, sure, but I think my text messaging reached more people too, actually.)

This pattern isn't about to change, mind you.

On June 21st and 22nd, Deep In Vein is set to release "Mantra," our new, full-length album, and oh we're gonna do it in style!

We'll be performing both nights at HERE Arts Center, in their glorious main stage theater, with a full light design my yours truly, and a kick-ass video design by Blue Man Group designer, and "don't-choke-a-bitch" sage, Matt Tennie. Also: the sound. The sound system in this place will shake you like a baby. This is gonna be the kind of theatrical event most NYC bands really only dream of.

Do come by...

Two Bunnies, One God

Whenever I have a little downtime I get to thinking about the orifices of woodland animals and how those orifices fit into the grander scheme of the Universe.

I'd just like to share what I believe is a fundamental meditation on the subject.

It's God By A Landslide

Clearly, this tragedy in Uganda is God's judgment on a once proud nation now corrupted by its widespread tolerance of the homosexual lifestyle. Right, Mr. Hagee?

I'm sorry, what's that you say...?

Starburst

Here's a less modified/recombined effort compared to "The Audience" posted below. I think mostly I dig the Tron-like digital effect mixed with the raw energy of the explosion...

Manipulation Is Fun

My first attempt at photomanipulation came out something like this:

"The Audience"

I dunno, but it looks a lot better than my first artistic attempts from when I was four. We only had the DOS version of Photoshop back then: the operating system required scissors, pencils, paper, you name it...

What The Cool Kids Are Wearing

I post this here because this blog, of all places, may actually reach several of the roughly more than one person who not only works in tech theater but is, further, Aware Of All Internet Traditions.

A rare breed indeed. Yet, it is a breed who will understand the glory of an image, revealed to me but weeks ago, that is shortly bound to ironically grace a plain white work shirt.

Behold!:
Lo, I shall sear it to a spherically-woven, t-shapen textile and bear it proudly upon my breast! Let the geekiest of theater geeks tremble!

...And then let all few of us lose interest and return to skimming Failblog...

The Sound Of One Head Exploding

Holy Crap.

We Know What You Are; Now We're Just Arguing About A Refund

I shook this man's hand in 2008. A lot of people did. Good thing none of us knew where that hand had been.

Oh, and fuck you, Edwards.

Ahem... (straightens tie and jacket)

That's all I got to say about that.

Abort! Abort!

Either you politicize the Superbowl...or you don't.

It's funny to me, because by allowing the abortion ad and disallowing the gay dating ad they've managed to politicize both.

Well done, CBS. I would make a crack about your now being The BlackEye network but you'd probably manage to make that racially insensitive somehow...

...

P.S. God how I've missed me some sweet, sweet Palin in(s)anity. Especially now that the post-op swelling of her face is no longer upstaging the swelling of her ego.

No One Was There To Catch HIm

I've never been able to walk by the merry-go-round in Central Park in the rain without lamenting the early death of a sibling, cursing the phonies, and anti-ing me some establishment.

Sigh...

Back Into The Vein

Well, we did it. Two gigs in three days. It was a lot like shock treatment: thrash around uncontrollably until mental balance is restored.

Mr. Beery's is a great joint, though we had a hard time doing it justice. We had a nice crowd who were up for almost anything: the great John Wilkes Booth opened, followed by Thought and Memory, two bands with very different approaches to harder music, and both were lauded warmly.

Unfortunately, the set-up was very strange. Finding space to position a full kit and the amps and pedals for a five piece was plainly impossible, and in the end none of us was able to hear much besides the drums. Which...hampered things.

The gig at Lit Lounge had none of these problems, though. It was glorious. If Mr. Beery's was our being tossed back into the cold waters of performing live, then Lit was us finally fucking swimming again. We had a much better considered set-up and, even though Syren was sick, we all settled in and got the job done, and the crowd seemed to get that.

Which is why we all look relaxed here:


But I will give the final word to one fan in particular, whose sentiment is an instructive coda:

The light...my god, I see the light...

From The Dept. Of Unconscious Prejudices

On a lovely walk with my lovely wife, I realized that I have a previously and completely unarticulated prejudice against the feet of tall people. I imagine their length, and how oversized each feature must be--from the toes to the patch of hair on the top of the arch, to, well, what must be the amplified aromas--and, I hate to admit this, but it strikes me as grotesque.

Sigh. It's not that I don't like feet. They can be very beautiful...in smaller doses.

Tall people: I sincerely apologize for this minor, hitherto undiagnosed bit of insanity.

Still though, don't take your shoes off, 'kay?

Deep In Vein: 2010

It's not quite the new year anymore, but when you're carrying stuff as heavy as Deep In Vein's tunes I believe you can be forgiven for arriving at the party a little late.

Actually, parties.

We're almost finished recording and mixing our new album, Mantra, which means we're in a happy place--by which we mean a doomy, despairing place!--which means we're ready to start gigging again. And just to make sure it's done right, we have two confirmed gigs almost back-to-back as well as two more potential dates just awaiting confirmation.

Dig it:

Mr. Beery's
Tomorrow night, 1/23,
9pm-ish, $5
4019 Hempstead Tpke.
Bethpage New York 11714

Yes, this one is a little out-of-the-way for we regular NYC'ers, but--similar to friends with html skills or legal knowledge--this is why we know people with cars.

As for knowing people with beards and tattoos, we got that covered too, because just two days later we play:

Lit Lounge
"Precious Metal" Monday, 1/25,
9:30pm-ish, $6
93 2nd Ave
New York New York 10011

And a word about one of the two potential gigs: we were at a practice space last night, going through the set a couple times to get ready for Mr. Beery's, when a cool cat popped his head in the door just to tell us that he dug our sound. After making our collective night, he paid us the further compliment of introducing himself--he is Dirty Migz, the lead guitarist for these guys--and furtherer inviting us to open for the band's upcoming album release/get-back-in-the-thick-of-it shindig.

Details still have to be worked out, and I'm not trying to jinx anything, but as far as omens go, having a stranger express appreciation for your music after such a long hiatus is pretty hard to beat.

Igneous on, y'all!


I'm a dork, I admit it....

Gag Me With A Failed Administration

August is right. And by "right," I mean he's articulated every basal-level feeling that's shivered through my brain since this whole shitball got rolling.

It started with Harry Reid trusting Max Baucus to do the right thing swiftly, and it's going to end with the anti-democratic (small "d") farce that a simple majority in both legislative bodies of our government isn't enough to push through the ruling party's agenda.

So...can we abandon this failed House of Lords...er, Senate...now? The 100 Boys' Club (with one or two XX chromosomal-Americans allowed entry just for spice) has turned into nothing other than a way for a single American to hold his/her 350 million fellow citizens hostage, since even just the threat of a senator taking his ball and going home is enough to stop the entire game.

And yes, I'm looking at you Ho Lieberman. And your shriveled little ball.

Blech.