And A Merry Little Christmas To You

What Would Tyler Durden Do?

Just a short post. Things you should and will go and see and read. Do it.

I love celebrity gossip. Everyone does. But I rarely find crusty gossip, gossip with snark, gossip with disturbing and troubling undercurrents. But then, I never went here before yestarday. Oh, boy. That's some good snark. By the by, don't know who Tyler Durden is? Read or watch Fight Club again. Jeez.

For anyone who has worked in the service industry or knows anyone in the service industry or feels somehow entitled when dealing with someone in the service industry, I give you this. The best blog post EVER. Maybe.

Are you, like me, a fan of the late, great Hunter Stockton Thompson? Are you, like me, slightly obsessive about the doctor? Then run, don't walk, to M + B gallery in Los Angeles. Go. Now. Or you can check out this.

That's it. For now. And, really, what would Tyler Durden do?

P.S. For some fine-ass pics of Motley Crue in the Soo (I'm a freakin poet), check out these. I know the photographer. She feeds me and keeps me in boxers.

Ciao.

Measuring The Speed Of Meme...

A cool experiment... In which you will participate in or... I'll just say, think of the children, won't someone think of the children?!!??

Anyway. Over atAcephalous, there is an experiment going on and I'm going to partake. And so are You... Sorry. So, the experiment... You know how all kinds of fine folks say things about things going across, through, around the Internets Series of Tubes and Highways? Well, they do. Who? Fine folks. What fine folks? Stop asking me questions, dammit. Jeez. So, the core of the nugget is that information or stuff that isn't so informational can now travel at speeds unimaginable from one side of the Internets to the other and back again. Take Brittany Spears crotch shots, for example. How many times a day did we come face to face with yet another posting or opinion regarding Ms Spears and her commando fashion sense in the last few days? Thousands of times if you go to some of the bottom swill sites I check out (nudge, nudge, wink, wink) (sorry). But did it travel the entirety of the Internet Super Freeway? Or did it just go from crotchshotsofthefamous.com to CNN to canada.com and sputter out somewhere around mywifedoesntknowihaveawebcam.com?

Does any stuff really, truly travel the breadth and depth and width of the Internet World Wide Of Web?

Don't know, do we...

So, back to the experiment... It is here. Go. Now. What? You're still here? Jeez. Over at Acephalous they have a program thingy that is browsing the Web Roadway of Tubes every ten minutes or so looking for this link. Mapping out the travels this link has taken in its journey from one basement to the next, to the next, to the next.

And, no, this is not Chain Mail and you will not become rich and famous in 30 days and something horrible will not befall anyone you love or yourself and you will not find any guaranteed winning lottery numbers or pictures of angels or crotch shots of single mother pop tarts, but... If you do post this link on your blog-thingy, I most assuredly will not fling any pooh at your living room window. I promise.

No fingers crossed or anything.

So the way to participate in this experiment... 1) Link to the post in your blog-whatsit; 2) Try to convince others to do the same by any means necessary; 3) Ping Technorati.

Have fun. And drink plenty of water.

And keep your legs together, the world has seen enough crotch shots.

Things You Can Do When The Satellite Is Down

I'm sure I could be doing something productive, something good for my heart and health, something truly creative and groundbreaking. Instead I will share my Internets Superhighway of Information Tubes findings with all of you. If anyone still comes here after being clobbered over the head with my Social Distortion obsession. So here are some things to do when you have no T.V.

You can have fun, fun, fun and more fun with Lego.



That is borrowed from Escher's "Relativity" in LEGO. Go there now, dammit.

Wait, before you go, remember to also check out Escher's "Ascending and Descending" in LEGO by the same folks.



Coolness.

And there's more fun to be had with Lego.



I don't really know how to explain The Brick Testament. A truly brilliant concept. Just check it out. Now.

For the film fan, who is also without television temporarily, there is Viking's Stationery Movies Quiz. Its a heck of a lot harder than I thought it would be. Good luck. Enjoy. Also, over at Bob and David dot com we find this piece of artistic brilliance, One Full Year Of Kick Ass Movie Pitches. Which one do You want to see in the new year?

Something else to do when you're going through Jennifer Garner withdrawalwl... Play songs on your touchtone phone. Click HERE now. Just do it. Don't be afraid. Its kinda cool, in a wow, how long did that take to figure out and how come you did it, kinda way.

More fun than looking at pictures of Next Door Nikki (not really, but my wife might read this...) is looking at pictures of cemenaccidentallyly spilt in an office. Oooo, ahhhh.



Go here to see more.

Definitely check out The Flat Earth Society's Forums for reasoned and rational discussion. Ahhhh, the Flat Earth Society, what would we be without you...

What else to do when you are being denied the comforting warmth of toothpaste and beer commercials? You could write companies with trulbizarrere questions and see if they answer. Guy Petzall did. And he got answers. So there.

And finally, when you have checked out pretty well every single picture of pretty girls kissing other pretty girls on the Internets' Tubes of Information Highway, you could always send a monkey e-mail. You could. Really. Go here to send someone you love a monkey e-mail. Say monkey, its fun. Say it. I said say it. Jeez.

Yet Even More Strange Rumblings From Orange County

Okay. You're probably sick to death of my Social Distortion obsession... I can understand. Doesn't mean I'm going to stop.

Found on YouTube... Enjoy until it gets yanked.

Strange Rumblings From Orange County, Pt 2

And so I sit, not in my gitch this time, but sitting. And I read over my little review-thing of Mommy's Little Monster, the first LP from Social D. And I think to myself, what is a good way to lure more folks to the light and the truth? Is there some easy way of summing up a large chunk of their career without looking at every album? Is there, somewhere in the world, a sampler, a hits package, something that covers their music from the beginning to some more recent moment, and it has to have the late Dennis Darnell on it...
Oh, yeah. Live At The Roxy.



First, some label history... Social D had put out two very stong albums on an indie label and then three very strong albums for a major label. Whatever happened with the major label, Social D wiggled their way out of the contract and signed with Time Bomb. Back to the indies, back to the basics, I guess. Their first outing with Time Bomb was Live At The Roxy, released in 1998.

Now, some line up history... I won't bore you with the revolving door of players, suffice to say there have been quite a few members of Social Distortion since 1978 (for the entire list click here). On this tour in '98, the band consisted of Mike Ness (duh) and Dennis Darnell on guitar and John Mauer on bass and Chuck Biscuits on drums. For anyone who doesn't know, Mr. Biscuits resume includes pounding the beat for D.O.A., Black Flag, Danzig, Circle Jerks, Run-DMC and The Four Horseman... Yeah, the man seems to have history. Since leaving Social Distortion, he seems to have retired.

Anyway... Social Distortion live. As good as the studio albums are, nothing, no-one, nowhere, can touch this band live. No matter the line up, no matter how old or how young or how sober or how messed up, this band plays with more passion and drive and emotion and tightness and soul than any other band ever, ever, ever. I saw Springsteen live in '84 and until I saw Social Distortion, I thought I knew how a live show was supposed to feel and sound.
Ness is a bottle of nitro just this side of going off and taking everyone with him. He's a demanding front man who's been pulling the band on his almost-out-of-control frenzied roller-coaster ride night after night after night for twenty-eight years now. No wonder his celeb fans include Pearl Jam and The Foo Fighters and Springsteen and Sum 41 and Rancid and Dropkick Murphys. And Vince Vaughn and Angelina Jolie and Kevin Bacon.

And so on.

Back to the album.



The set list. No-one can argue with song choices on this album. Every song is tight and strong and mighty and a triumph. The only problem? No Sick Boy. Not that most would have noticed. In the liner notes, Mike Ness apologizes for forgetting to include Sick Boy. He's a funny guy that Mr. Ness. Yes he is.

Anyway. The songs. They cover the entire spectrum of Social Distortion's catalogue up until that point. The early punk, the pure three-chord rock and roll, the roots, they're all there. Even a couple of covers, Under My Thumb and the second-best version of Ring Of Fire ever. Every song is a classic, every song is played like its the last time the band will ever get a chance to play them. The pacing, the choices, they are all spot-on. Before I heard this album, I used to argue that the best night ever captured on tape and released for the masses was James Brown Live At The Apollo, Volume 1. Now that takes a back seat. It was a hell of moment to be caught for eternity. And to think, they are this good every night they play. Bouncing Buddah in a waterpark.

The crowd. Non-stop excitement from beginning to end. A bit of a sing along on Ball & Chain, but it doesn't come off as cheesy. They cheer, they sing, they have a ball. Except one guy, who gets called out by Mike Ness from the stage ("You got nine more of those fingers? Take all ten of them and stick them up your ass.") (Don't piss of Mike Ness if you ever get to see them live. He's been known to drop his guitar and dive into the crowd and having security pull him off of some sorry son of a bitch.)



Live At The Roxy works both as an obsessed fan work and as an introduction to the world of Social Distortion. It Rocks, it Rolls, it'll kick you in the ass.

I give it ten Eddie Spaghettis out of ten.

America Uber Alles

Good afternoon, America, how are you?

There's this little thing in Law called "habeas corpus". Here, for you, is its definition...
1. One of a variety of writs that may be issued to bring a party before a court or judge, having as its function the release of the party from unlawful restraint.
2. The right of a citizen to obtain such a writ.

[Middle English, from Medieval Latin habe?s corpus, produce the body (from the opening words of the writ) : Latin habe?s, second person sing. present subjunctive of hab?re, to have + Latin corpus, body.]

Now, I know what you're thinking, yeah, and so what...

"Technically, it is used in the criminal law context to bring the petitioner before the court to inquire into the legality of his confinement. The writ of federal habeas corpus is used to test the constitutionality of a state criminal conviction."

Basically, my neighbor, it comes down to judging the legality of your arrest, your confinement, your detention by the state. Got it? Good.

'cause you just lost it. Congratulations. Welcome to the wonderful world of Fascism. You have done Thomas Jefferson proud, I'm sure. Your Constitution. The Bill of Rights. Yeah, they are pretty much toilet paper now. Freedom, my friend is not just the ability to decide between Ugly Betty and Survivor on a Thursday evening. It's living in the knowledge that your door can't be kicked in and you can't be dragged out by the police and you can't rot in a cell without charge, without trial, without facing your accuser, and without being allowed to ask why.



From Bruce Ackerman, a professor of law and political science at Yale:

"Buried in the complex Senate compromise on detainee treatment is a real shocker, reaching far beyond the legal struggles about foreign terrorist suspects in the Guantanamo Bay fortress. The compromise legislation, which is racing toward the White House, authorizes the president to seize American citizens as enemy combatants, even if they have never left the United States. And once thrown into military prison, they cannot expect a trial by their peers or any other of the normal protections of the Bill of Rights."

He goes on, "... if the federal courts support the president's initial detention decision, ordinary Americans would be required to defend themselves before a military tribunal without the constitutional guarantees provided in criminal trials."

The American government, the folks you voted for, have passed a bill that allows the President to declare whomever he chooses to be an "enemy combatant". And if you are tagged an enemy of the President, you have no rights. No phone call. Do not pass Go. No criminal trial. Only a Military Tribunal for you, my friend. They are legalizing the very thing that your founding fathers fought against.



From the New York Times:

"Then Vice President Dick Cheney and his willing lawmakers rewrote the rest of the measure so that it would give Mr. Bush the power to jail pretty much anyone he wants for as long as he wants without charging them, to unilaterally reinterpret the Geneva Conventions, to authorize what normal people consider torture, and to deny justice to hundreds of men captured in error."

"Detainees in U.S. military prisons would lose the basic right to challenge their imprisonment. These cases do not clog the courts, nor coddle terrorists. They simply give wrongly imprisoned people a chance to prove their innocence."

"The definition of torture is unacceptably narrow, a virtual reprise of the deeply cynical memos the administration produced after 9/11. Rape and sexual assault are defined in a retrograde way that covers only forced or coerced activity, and not other forms of nonconsensual sex. The bill would effectively eliminate the idea of rape as torture."

Huey Long once said "When fascism comes to this country its going to be wrapped in the American flag."

America, you sexy thing you, don't put up with this. Please fight back. Remember who allowed this to happen and make them answer for it. Don't allow the suits to fill you with paranoia. Look behind the curtain, check out who is pulling the wizards strings. Dissent is not wrong, in fact its a must.

Now, for every one else, my fave-o-rite moments from Bill Clinton vs Fox...



WALLACE: When we announced that you were going to be on Fox News Sunday, I got a lot of e-mail from viewers. And I’ve got to say, I was surprised. Most of them wanted me to ask you this question: Why didn’t you do more to put bin Laden and Al Qaida out of business when you were president?
There’s a new book out, I suspect you’ve already read, called The Looming Tower. And it talks about how the fact that when you pulled troops out of Somalia in 1993, bin Laden said, I have seen the frailty and the weakness and the cowardice of U.S. troops. Then there was the bombing of the embassies in Africa and the attack on the Cole.

CLINTON: OK, let’s just go through that.

WALLACE: Let me — let me — may I just finish the question, sir? And after the attack, the book says that bin Laden separated his leaders, spread them around, because he expected an attack, and there was no response. I understand that hindsight is always 20/20…

CLINTON: No, let’s talk about it.

WALLACE: … but the question is, why didn’t you do more, connect the dots and put them out of business?

CLINTON: OK, let’s talk about it. Now, I will answer all those things on the merits, but first I want to talk about the context in which this arises.
I’m being asked this on the Fox network. ABC just had a right-wing conservative run in their little Pathway to 9/11, falsely claiming it was based on the 9/11 Commission report, with three things asserted against me directly contradicted by the 9/11 Commission report.
And I think it’s very interesting that all the conservative Republicans, who now say I didn’t do enough, claimed that I was too obsessed with bin Laden. All of President Bush’s neo-cons thought I was too obsessed with bin Laden. They had no meetings on bin Laden for nine months after I left office. All the right-wingers who now say I didn’t do enough said I did too much — same people.
They were all trying to get me to withdraw from Somalia in 1993 the next day after we were involved in Black Hawk down, and I refused to do it and stayed six months and had an orderly transfer to the United Nations.
OK, now let’s look at all the criticisms: Black Hawk down, Somalia. There is not a living soul in the world who thought that Osama bin Laden had anything to do with Black Hawk down or was paying any attention to it or even knew Al Qaida was a growing concern in October of ‘93.

WALLACE: I understand, and I…

CLINTON: No, wait. No, wait. Don’t tell me this — you asked me why didn’t I do more to bin Laden. There was not a living soul. All the people who now criticize me wanted to leave the next day. You brought this up, so you’ll get an answer, but you can’t…

WALLACE: I’m perfectly happy to.

CLINTON: All right, secondly…

WALLACE: Bin Laden says…

CLINTON: Bin Laden may have said…

WALLACE: … bin Laden says that it showed the weakness of the United States.

CLINTON: But it would’ve shown the weakness if we’d left right away, but he wasn’t involved in that. That’s just a bunch of bull. That was about Mohammed Adid, a Muslim warlord, murdering 22 Pakistani Muslim troops. We were all there on a humanitarian mission. We had no mission, none, to establish a certain kind of Somali government or to keep anybody out. He was not a religious fanatic…

WALLACE: But, Mr. President…

CLINTON: … there was no Al Qaida…

WALLACE: … with respect, if I may, instead of going through ‘93 and…

CLINTON: No, no. You asked it. You brought it up. You brought it up.



...but, wait. There's more...


WALLACE: I want to ask a question. You don’t think that’s a legitimate question?

CLINTON: It was a perfectly legitimate question, but I want to know how many people in the Bush administration you asked this question of. I want to know how many people in the Bush administration you asked, Why didn’t you do anything about the Cole?
I want to know how many you asked, Why did you fire Dick Clarke? I want to know how many people you asked…

WALLACE: We asked — we asked…

CLINTON: I don’t…

WALLACE: Do you ever watch Fox News Sunday, sir?

CLINTON: I don’t believe you asked them that.

WALLACE: We ask plenty of questions of…

CLINTON: You didn’t ask that, did you? Tell the truth, Chris.

WALLACE: About the USS Cole?

CLINTON: Tell the truth, Chris.

WALLACE: With Iraq and Afghanistan, there’s plenty of stuff to ask.

CLINTON: Did you ever ask that? You set this meeting up because you were going to get a lot of criticism from your viewers because Rupert Murdoch’s supporting my work on climate change.
And you came here under false pretenses and said that you’d spend half the time talking about — you said you’d spend half the time talking about what we did out there to raise $7-billion-plus in three days from 215 different commitments. And you don’t care.

WALLACE: But, President Clinton, if you look at the questions here, you’ll see half the questions are about that. I didn’t think this was going to set you off on such a tear.

CLINTON: You launched it — it set me off on a tear because you didn’t formulate it in an honest way and because you people ask me questions you don’t ask the other side.

Go get 'em, Bill...

And a bit of coolness I found while staggering around the Information Superhighway with a cup of high-octane in my grip...

Cick here, dammit.

Ciao.

Slackhopper And Her Media Empire

She's back.

Go, now.

Thank you.

Later.

Sometimes Things Can't Wait...

I was going to hang onto this until Monday, Sept. 11th... But I can't wait. Must share.

America, my friend, why are you letting this happen?

Click here now.

Goodbye.

Back Home

And then I went down East for a bit. My Grandma passed away. She was 89. She was much admired and loved and respected. She will be missed.
And there you are.

My family is from down East. The Brockville area.



A happening and growing and thriving little burg on the shores of the St. Lawrence River. Near the Thousand Islands.



A small city where, it seems, I just might be related to everyone who has ever lived in or near the area.



Yipes.

This is the Masonic Lodge in Lyn. Its just outside of Brockville. Its so small, its not on Mapquest. Plenty of my more direct relatives have lived or still live in Lyn. It is on Google Maps. Just not on Mapquest.



These folks are not my family, though they are Slacks. It just turns out that Google Images cannot find any images of people I am related to. So just pretend that these are Slacks I am descended from. Its more fun this way, really.



And so I have given this link out to my cousins. I haven't seen any of them in a long, long, long time. So I will now attempt to give them a quick update of my life and what is happening. For everyone who already knows all this, here is a link to some Amazon reviews by someone who has never read any of the books he reviews. Did you follow that? Good. Now get.

Where was I...? Oh, yeah.

This is my wife. She's a hottie. And the smart one in this partnership.



This is our dog Channing. She hates getting her picture taken.



This is our other dog, Milhouse. He's five 150-pound dogs trapped in the body of one wee Jack Russell.



We own a house. We both work for the devil, just in different forms. She takes photographs, helps organize Buskerfest and watches me play video games. Me, I play video games.

And so, there we are. All caught up.

And I'm back home from going back home.

Strange Rumblings From Orange County

And so I've been sitting here in my gitch for hours and hours trying to think of something, anything to post on this blog-thing just in case anyone anywhere still drops by to check it out. According to the stats-thing at the bottom of the page, folks are. The stats-thing could just be trying to be polite. I don't know. Also, how the hell does a Google search for tranny nurses bring anyone here?

And so I've been thinking for months and months I'd like to try to review an album. Secret admission time... I've always admired folks who get to review things. Cool gig. And some get paid for it. Very cool gig. And sometimes they provoke other folks to wish them harm and to say rude things about them and their families and their friends and their dogs (see posting about Mel Gibson) and stuff. And things. Very, very cool gig.

And so I decided I would try my hand at reviewing an album. For the youngsters, an album is what we old fucks who should be sent out on an ice flow call a Compact Disc. Once upon a time, music came on large, thin platters of black plastic. The large, thin platters were two sided and came in large, thin pieces of cardboard that was covered with art or pictures and would have all the information printed large enough for anyone to read without a magnifying glass. The unfortunate thing about these large, thin platters of plastic was they were inclined to melt, warp and scratch. So they kind of sucked. Thank you, oh inventor of Compact Discs. Thank you. No more milk crates crowding the corners of our living rooms, just tall towers of industrial steel.

And so as not pull any muscles or anything, I thought, hey, I should try reviewing an album by my fave-o-rite band in the whole world.

And so this brings us to Social Distortion. From the official website:

"The first raw, sloppy, speeding guitar chords announcing an Orange County punk scene blared from Huntington Beach and Fullerton California in 1978. They echoed the sound forged in 1976-77 in the seminal punk undergrounds of New York City, London and Los Angeles.

In the early days, O.C. punk’s unyielding musical force slammed up against an immovable cultural object: the Orange County dream of quiet, well-oriented, economically impregnable suburban living.

Treating rowdy, often outrageous fans as a gang element, local authorities shut down a series of clubs that championed the music. But O.C. punk proved too hardy to erase.

In 1979, Mike Ness forms Social Distortion with drummer Casey Royer and brothers Rikk and Frank Agnew.


"Basically, they’re into violence," a Huntington Beach police sergeant told the LA Times in 1979. "They have a hatred virtually for everybody. There’s no motive, no rationale. They just do whatever they feel like at the time." The officer went on to plea: "We can’t do anything with out the public’s help. It’s the only way we’re going to stop it." Misjudging punk as a gang movement, police in Huntington Beach and Newport Beach detained kids on the streets snapping their mug shots for police files."

Anyway.

Short pause for a personal history... In 1976 or maybe 1977, I was watching the CBC news in my parent's living room. There was a report on a disturbing trend erupting in England called Punk Rock. My musical tastes at the time (I was ten in 1976, so fuck off) leaned towards Motown, Kiss, Nazareth. And the Jackson Five. And ELO. And whatever else was on the radio. And I had just heard Bruce Springsteen for the first time. So, for a ten or eleven year old in the Seventies, I was pretty normal. It was the Seventies, folks. Before music video channels, radio used to be pretty cool. (I'm very proud to admit, I owned no Eagles. Hate them. Probably always have. As the Dude once said, "God, I hate the fucking Eagles.") (Note - watch The Big Lebowski again.)

Anyway. So this Punk Rock-thing in England report on the CBC got me curious. And at summer camp that year, a lot of camp folks were listening and sharing tapes of this music. And so I discovered that Punk Rock was not just funny looking British people with anger issues. It was music, too. Music that wasn't four hour guitar solos. And wasn't always pretty. But it was three minutes of coolness. Three chords and the truth, as Bono Vox would one day say.

Fast forward to 1983. I was getting my hair spiked for the first time. I was buying my first pair of tapered jeans. I bought a trench coat at the Sally Am. I was listening to the Pistols and the Clash and the Ramones. The group of folks I was hanging with were turning me onto new sounds, new fashions, new art. Some would go to Toronto or out west and come back with news of changing trends, like Hardcore. By the mid-eighties, with no internet, no video channels, no cell-phones, the underground music scene was spreading into the hinterland with a vengence. (Side note - Metallica's first recordings made it to the Soo via cassette tapes passed around and copied and passed around some more. First time I heard one of these Garage Tapes was on Queen Street in front of the Sub Shop on a Sony Walkman. If it wasn't for bootlegging turning folks onto this new sound from California, their fan base would still be some drunks hanging out at the bar in San Francisco. So fuck you, Metallica, fuck you. Fuck you very much.)

Fast forward to 1999. I'm sitting in my cab on a Saturday afternoon, outside of a peeler bar, waiting for someone to fall out, listening to Lake State's college station on the radio. The DJ says, "And here's one from Mike Ness' solo album..." Two bars in, the sun is shining a little brighter. The cab smells a little bit better. What is this? Where do I find it? Mike Ness? Who the hell is he and where does he come from?

The next week I go down to the Corporate Music Store and buy a copy of Cheating At Solitare, the album by this Mike Ness fellow. The cashier jockey says to me as he's bagging it up, "Its a lot different than his stuff with Social Distortion..." I smile, nod and say, " Hey, I'm sure it is..." What the hell is Social Distortion?

And so here we are. Seven years later and I still cannot get enough. And let us now talk of Social D's (that's what us hipsters call Social Distortion, cool, huh...) first album (LP if your as old as I am, CD if your not) Mommy's Little Monster.



Violent and angry and rabid and loud and buzzsaw guitars. The album still works as a Punk Rock boot to the face. Its full of bravado and bragging...
"Run and Hide when I'm on the streets./Your fears & your tears/I'll taunt you in your sleep"

Sensitive guy posing...
"These scars in my flesh,/I'm bruised & I'm bloodied/Only she knows the pain that I've been thru."

Tough guy denial...
"No one said life would be easy,/Doesn't mean that much to me..."

There is stuff on Mommy's Little Monster, though, that would become the first stone in the path for Social D. Mike Ness, even this young, is stretching the Permissable Punk Rock lyrical subject farther than most would try for a very, very long time. While its not the best songwriting in the Punk Rock canon, the bravery cannot be denied. Mommy's Little Monster has these moments throughout it where Ness kicks away at the bravado and bragging...

"Well I love the sound when I smash the glass/If I get caught they're gonna kick my ass." Music history is full of moments of violence and destruction. Not often, especially in Punk or Rap, are you going to find the offender running away. Or this moment from the same song, Telling Them: "They say it costs $6 to get in this shack/I'll go around and sneak in the back/I hope the police won't show up here/Then we'll have to hide out of fear..."

Ness would face his own demons through songwriting for years, but here he is, at twenty-one just starting to grapple with a troublesome Heroin addiction:"An hour of darkness & an hour of love/This hour of confusion as i look above/Death & life as I've never seen before/...One more trip like that & I'm in the morgue."

Don't get me wrong, though, this is not a depressing record. Oh, no. Its fun and fluffy and... okay, not fluffy. But it is fun. Really. From the title song: "Her eyes are a deeper blue, she likes her hair that color, too." "He loves to go out & make some noise/He doesn't wanna be a doctor or a lawyer get fat & rich/He's 20 years old & he's quit his job/Unemployment pays his rent." See. Fun, fun, fun.



Lottsa fun.

Sure there's some young, junkie, high-school dropout songwriting. But there's a reason this is a Punk Rock Classic Album. Its raw and pure and nasty and violent and fun and primitive and Important. Don't let that word scare you. But it is. Really.

Some bands catalogues are a mix of trial and error, good and bad, really amazing ideas and what-the-fuck-were-you-thinking moments. Maybe the reason I really, really, really dig this band is 'cause there ain't a whole lot of bad. Every album works as a whole, each is an expression of the band and its leader when they were working on each one. From Punk to Country and Rockabilly to Pure Hard Rock and Roll, each record is a single contextual work, with a common theme (young punk in the city or junkie trying to make good or facing forty with some diginity) that moves the record. And Mommy's Little Monster was the first to use that formula, the first to step outside of the American Punk Rock rules and standards and definitions of what makes a good Punk Rock record.

Don't just listen to me, though. Give this bad boy a spin.



I give it eight Joey Ramones out of ten.

And so. Here are a couple of moments I stole, I mean borrowed, from YouTube...

First, Mommy's Little Monster... Check out the security guy.


And one of the bands finer moments... I Was Wrong.




Enjoy.

Welcome to Blogelation And Busking

So, last night, my oh-so-lovely wife lets slip that my oh-so-good-friend Craig West has volunteered me to contribute to Blogelation.

What is Blogelation, you ask? Click on the damn link, you lazy bastard. Sorry. Its a collection of local blogging folks writing about an event. The first event was The Rotary Second Stage. Missed it? Sucks to be you, my friend. Be there next year. And quit complaining.



So. This time the event is Buskerfest.

What is Buskerfest, you ask? Goddamn, you are truly the world's laziest bastard, aren't you? Sorry. Buskerfest is this wonderful festival that is held in beaut-i-ful downtown Sault Ste. Marie every August for three days. Its Buskers. Its fun. Its educational. There be fire. And juggling. And stuff. And things. And its turned my marriage into a couple of ships passing by each other occasionally, sometimes at night, sometimes not.



And what are Buskers, you ask? Good question. Basically, from what I can figure, they are guys and gals who entertain by any means necessary in any situation possible for as much pocket change as they can get from the public. Seriously professional guys and gals who don't charge cover, but will ask for the cash in your pocket at the end of the show. This is how they make their living. Personally, I think its a pretty cool way of making a living. You get to laugh and to be amazed and to be awed and to be shocked and all it costs you is what you think it was worth.



Now. What are you doing still reading this? If its Friday or Saturday or Sunday, get your comfortable shoes on, get some bills and change together and get your freak on in beaut-i-ful downtown Sault Ste. Marie. If you can find the Museum or Top Hat or Loplops, you can find Buskerfest. Get off your ass and go. Now. Do it. Jesus.

And go to Blogelation and see what real writers and such have to say.



See you in beaut-i-ful downtown Sault Ste. Marie.

Strange Rumblings From Mel's Mouth

Ahhh, Mel, now you really have gone and done it, haven't you...



I've always thought you were a little nuts, a wee conservative, a raging homophobe and a bit of a pooh-head, but Jumpin Jesus on a trampoline, Mel, you have really done it now.
Don't worry about your career, though. Polanski drugged and raped a thirteen-year old and still makes films and wins awards. Heck, he won an Oscar. He lives in France, now.

But let's take a look at the long road to now, Mel, with some of my fave-o-rite Mad Mel moments...

Let's start here, with your lovely wife... Febuary 10th, 2004 it was reported you said, “Put it this way. My wife is a saint. She’s a much better person than I am. Honestly. She’s, like, Episcopalian, Church of England. She prays, she believes in God, she knows Jesus, she believes in that stuff. And it’s just not fair if she doesn’t make it, she’s better than I am. But that is a pronouncement from the chair. I go with it.” Buddy, is your wife really going to hell for not believing in the same things as you do? Maybe its a joke, an inside joke between you and your kin. I don't know. Could be, I guess. Not a very funny joke, but, hey, maybe that's a thing with you crazy kids.

Okay, where to now...? How about critics... In your Playboy interview you said of an author of an unauthorized biography, "I don't think God will put him in my path. He deserves death." Or this one... After Frank Rich of The New York Times wrote of his concern that the Passion of the Christ could inflame antisemitism, you told The New Yorker, "I want to kill him. I want his intestines on a stick. I want to kill his dog." Fun stuff. Fun stuff, indeed. Wow. His dog?
Its interesting how, you make a movie about a guy who got nailed to a cross for saying things about forgivness and compassion and then you say you want to kill some other guy and his dog... Interesting, indeed.

Oh, where oh where on the Mel path shall we stop next? Hey, homophobia. One time, for the Spanish magazine El Pais you were asked what you thought of gay people and you replied, and I quote, "They take it up the ass... This is only for taking a shit." Someone's never gone ass to mouth. When the dude interviewing you brought up that you had previously had espressed fear that people would think you were gay because you're an actor, you replied, "Do I sound like a homosexual? Do I talk like them? Do I move like them? I think not." Hmmm...



Yipes.

Hey, buddy, we're at the Now point on the road. Oh, boy. Where, oh where did you get these anti-Semetic ideas from, Mel? Let us now look at the other loonie in your family. Sorry to get personal here, but, dude your dad is kinda hateful and a whole lot of crazy.

Your poppa claims that he won between $20,000 and $25,000 on Jeopardy during the Art Fleming version of the show and used that winfall to move you and your family to Australia. Now, I don't want to nit pick, but the highest winner on the Art Fleming version of Jeopardy was Burns Cameron and he won $11,110 in 1964. Was your dada on Jeopardy? We'll never really know, due their being no surviving footage from that era. Too bad. But that's neither here nor there, is it...

So Mr. Hutton Gibson thinks the Holocust is "...maybe not all fiction — but most of it is..." And he believes that the Second Vatican Council was the result of a secret anti-Catholic plot orchestrated by both Masons and Jews. And that the Jews want to take over the world and establish a one-world government and a one-world religion.

And you defend your pop. Of course you do, he's blood. He may be crazy and hateful but, he's blood, he's family, and the man that doesn't defend his family is a weak man. So, how did you defend him? Did you say, hey - look over there, its the First Freakin Amendment, free speech, bitches. Or did you say, a person can believe in anything they want, we live in a free country? Oh. You didn't? I mean, those aren't the best arguments for Hutton's kind of crazy and his hate is pretty well inexcuseable, so, Mel, what did you say in defense of your daddy? "The man never lied to me in his life..." Leapin Lizards, man. Wow. You believe this shite? Bouncin Buddah in a waterpark.

So, Mel, here we are. You go out for a shinding, a real roll off the old sober wagon, a tequila meet and greet.



The hazy memories of a Toronto night in 1984 haunting you.



Thinking to yourself, everyone loves me, why don't I like me? Maybe a ride on the Pacific Coast Highway will clear the head. Little chance of rear-ending a Canadian there.



Oops.
In your rearview mirror, Mel, what did you see? Me, I probably would have seen a big, fat, giant mistake that I am personally responsible for. Thank Jehova the police have stopped you before you could rear-end someone and ruin their day, eh, my friend.

Why the Jews, Mel? They haven't faced enough hatred and persecution in the last couple of thousand years? I mean, really, you could direct your hate to someone who really deserves it, like those perfume spraying freaks in department stores. Or those idiots that package batteries, do they have to be impossible to get into.

Or yourself.



But you have your defenders, buddy. From the Kavkaz Center: "Mel Gibson is telling the truth when he said to a Los Angeles County Sheriff July 29, 2006 that "The Jews are responsible for all the wars in the world" during the early morning hours of July 28 near his home in Malibu, California. God bless Mel Gibson for his courage!" And there's more..."Mr. Gibson, producer and director of the highly successful film "The Passion of the Christ", has again provided a great service to the world by utilizing his celebrity status in stating a truth that most ordinary gentiles are afraid to say. Mel Gibson is now being crucified, as was done during the production of his film on Jesus Christ, for saying a very inconvenient truth about world Jewry..."

You can read it here, Mel.

With friends like these... You know the rest, I'm sure.

And on top of everything, you made Deuce Bigelow cry. Nice going, big guy.



Take care, Mel. Get some help. Get healthy. And maybe, just maybe, lay off the nailing to the cross part of the Jesus story and work on the other bits. Those are the ones about compassion. And loving your neighbor. And the other wimpy bits. I'm just saying, that's all...

P.S.

Here be some great quotes by some athiests.

'nuff said.

The Saga Of The Turkish Star Trek

And so Patti the other night, staggering around and throwing punches at old men trying to steal the tossed cigarette butts on Queen Street, mentions Turkish Star Trek and how much she would be willing to pay for it and how much love and cash she would throw my way if I was able to track down any more information about the movie and, most importantly, how she could find a copy of it.

Never underestimate the power of the Internets-Web-Thing and a middle-aged geek sitting around in his gitch.



Oh, baby. Turist Omer Uzay Yolunda is almost in your bloodless little fingers. Heh, heh, heh.



And what have I found? Go here or here...



Soon, you and your girlfriend can cozy up with some adult beverages and marvel at the complexity and wonder that is Turist Omer Uzay Yolunda.

Ta.

The Colonel Redux

So.

I was going to go on and on and on and on and on about Ms Ann Coulter and her new book and her comments about some 9/11 widows and plagiarism and her latest cooky antics, but I found this instead. So have fun.



So.



And then, I thought, those goofy cats in North Korea are sure being goofy lately. Look to the left for fun and excitement in North Korea. Kim Jong Il, my fave-o-rite tinpot dictator, sure loves to stir the pot, doesn't he. Timing is Everything for Kim. RIMPAC is going on. Iran and Iraq and Ms Ann Coulter are stealing all the headlines. So how does an ego as large as Kim's grab the home page at CNN.com...? Why not a July 4th blowout sale and demo for his customers? Yay, Kim. Thanks for the sleepless nights and sweaty flashbacks of '80's nuke paranoia, buddy.



And then I found something that really got my dandruff in a huff. Jumping Jesus on a trampoline, man. The Colonel has been re-done. Updated. Re-imagined. Molested. Its the freakin Colonel. And the brain-trust at KFC has re-made him. Again. Ah, the humanity.

This is the Colonel as I like to remember him... On the bucket...



Struttin' with the ladies...



And there have been changes over the years. Oh, yes, there have been changes.



They bugged me a little, but not much. The Colonel was still the Colonel. A cool old guy in a cool suit with cool glasses.


But... Look at this thing. Look at it. Shit. Now he's some kinda hipster with a Van Dyke beard, like all the other hipsters with Van Dyke beards. After a hard day of choking chickens and brewing up the seven herbs and spices, the old Colonel would go struttin' with the ladies (see above...). This new Colonel, he looks like he's going to head over to a Starbucks, get a decaf double latte short and listen to Anderson Coopers I-tune picks on his U2 Ipod while driving his economical and environmentally friendly SUV. No struttin' with the ladies for this Colonel. No way. He's much to busy and hip for that. He's got emotions to emote. Shit.

What's next? A Ronald McDonald that doesn't make Trace Hilderley scream like a banshee and run hiding?

Where's the fun going? Where?

And now a France/Italy World Cup final? Where's the Germany/Portugal final I was counting on to make Roy and Melanie very uncomfortable?

As a very wise and humble man once said, 'nuff said.