Digital photography is, in almost every way, tops. It is cheaper, easier, and the gratification is so deliciously instant. But sometimes digital photography can be a bit too... perfect.
That's why this is my new favorite flickr group. The group is all pictures of noise, dust, and distortion that people have captured through their viewfinders. When you apply them to a digital photograph, it can give them some of the texture and earthiness of film.
The atmosphere and mood that this shot already had is enhanced by the shadowy corners and uneven, bleeding edge of the frame. Turns out all that time I spent cleaning and taking care of my lenses was a total waste of time.
The Suze asks: Have you noticed since we moved to Houston that every fast food place uses styrofoam cups instead of those wax-coated paper ones? Whataburger, Sonic, and even the little Greek deli down the street uses them. What gives?
What gives is that it is hot as fuck down here most of the time. Styrofoam insulates better than paper. When you go to Whataburger, and you get a hamburger that is so enormous it takes you 45 minutes to eat it, you don't want your drink to be warm by then. So out with the biodegradable but poorly-insulating paper cups, and in with the well-insulated, last-until-the-end-of-time Styrofoam cups.
You and I both figured this was the answer when you asked the question, the Suze, but I decided to do a little research just to make sure. Instead I found this:
"This has nothing to do with the Hurricane. We had a
resident who had an outstanding balance for over a month and no one
could get ahold of her. The Bookkeeper went inside after so many tries
to leave a note and this is what we found.
The pictures do NO justice. There is suppose to be 2 cats living
here but we cant find them (we think they're dead somewhere inside the
apartment-we contacted the SPCA). The place REEKS to say the least, i
gagged non stop."
I am NOT going to put any pictures on my site. If you insist on taking a look at one, this is the least disgusting one. And for the love of God, make sure you didn't just go to lunch and eat a Whataburger Thick & Hearty burger before looking at any of these, because it will make you feel very badly in your tummy.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'd say this whole blog experiment is going pretty well. I'm not embarrassed by the appearance of my website, I have at least 2 or 3 people who read it regularly, and I even got other websites with actual readerships to link to me, like, three times. Nice, right?
I'd say that I've pretty much accomplished what I set out to do. But with accomplishment comes complacency. I don't want to stagnate, I want to thrive. I need a new goal. So, along those lines, I was thinking to myself: what do I need to take this whole blog project to the next level? Not in the sense of "how can I become a rich and famous douchebag not contributing anything to society except my rambling on the internets", but rather "what would make running this website even more awesome?"
The first step in the further awesome-ization of ObscureCraft was to start inviting other people to write, and its been pretty great. I can't describe how wonderful it feels to see a new post come up that I didn't write. it just... happened. It'd be like coming home to find that the dog walked itself. Dog, how did you do that?!
It's been difficult to determine what else I could do that would top that. But I've finally decided. I have a goal for myself.
Coming this summer: ObscureCraft will have an intern.
Think about it: there are 4 or 5 different colleges in Houston. They must be filled with communications majors who won't be able to find paying work this summer because of the economy, but still want some experience. So, I'll post on Craigslist, saying local website looking for communications major intern. Duties include web and logo design and creative writing.
I wouldn't pay, but it would also take, like, 3-4 hours a week at most, right? Plus I could choose my (obviously female) intern based ENTIRELY on looks, because its not like what I do takes any real skill. This is my dream.
But here's the problem: even though it is a small commitment, the intern will want something in return. She needs to be able to put this experience on a resume. And the only way to give that any value is if this site increases its reach. So, I'm only going to do the intern project if I get to 50 readers by April.
So: if you enjoy this site, or you just enjoy the thought of me attempting to hire an intern for a summer position writing for ObscureCraft, then I need you to find me more readers. Help me help you, internet. Spread the word. Together, we can get me an attractive female intern for the summer.
I love Christmas. There, I said it. I love it. I love putting up lights, and the presents, and singing the same goddamn songs every year. And I love that I get to enjoy it without all the going to church and believing in Jesus. Christmas for me is like eating frozen yogurt instead of ice cream: all the fun and the flavor, none of the guilt!
But I do have sympathy for those of you that get a little tired of the same routine year in and year out, especially now that the routine starts around Labor Day. I get it - I don't want to talk about Christmas before Thanksgiving anymore than you do, but here we are. In fact, bitching about how early the Christmas season starts is one of my most treasured Christmas traditions. Here are my top five:
1. South Park's Christmas episodes. Specifically, the Mr. Hanky hosted Christmas specials with all the incredible music numbers. Cartman singing Silent Night. Hitler in hell, sobbing and singing O Tatenbaum in German. Mr. Mackey singing the Carol of the Bells. It is not Christmas until I hear "Hark hear the bells/Sweet silver bells/All seem to say/Ding dong mkay".
2. Watching people try to make it through the How the Grinch Stole Christmas drinking game. It has one rule: take a drink whenever the word "who" is used in any form (all the Who's *drink* down in Whoville *drink*). It's the alcoholic Christmas version of the gallon challenge.
3. Bitching about how early the Christmas season starts.
4. Putting up Christmas lights in my window, and then leaving them there until the tape wears out and they fall down or Suzi threatens me with a knife.
(I'm just kidding. Suzi would never threaten me with a knife. Suzi is all about blunt force trauma.)
5. The songs from A Colbert Christmas - The Greatest Gift Of All
That's right, after last night, my list as officially been re-written. Sorry, Miracle on 34th Street. Your plot never really made any sense anyway. Why does the post office keep all those bags of mail? Where do they store them? And why would they pay a dozen different mail carriers to bring junk mail to a courthouse? Isn't in the holiday season? I thought the post office was inundated with work! It makes no sense! Did you have the same writers as this season of Heroes?
Anyway.
A Colbert Christmas features musical performance from Colbert, Toby Keith, Feist, Elvis Costello, John Stewart, John Legend, and Willie Nelson. Any guesses who my favorite was?
Toby Keith singing "Have I Got a Present For You". How fantastic was it? After it was done, Suzi said: "I couldn't tell if that was a joke or an actual Toby Keith song."
Separate church and state/That's what some lawyer said/Well I think it's time we separated/Him from his head!
But my favorite lyric of the night went to Colbert and Stewart singing about Hannuka...Channukkah...(hold on let me look it up)...Hanukkah!
JS: We have latkas... SC: What are those? JS: Potato pancakes. We have dreidels... SC: What are those? JS: Wooden tops. We have candles... SC: What are those? JS: THEY ARE CANDLES!
I want that to be my ringtone. Every time somebody calls me, I want to hear John Stewart scream THEY ARE CANDLES! over and over again. I might never answer my phone.
If you want to watch the entire special, I wholeheartedly endorse that. But really, this was about the songs. They were written by David Javerbaum, a Daily Show producer, and Adam Schlesinger, a founding member of Fountains of Wayne. That's right - some of the best Christmas music I've ever heard was written by a couple of Jews. Their mothers must be so proud.
Blood Meridian is a western as imagined by lunatic and written by a poet. That is to say it is violence and mayhem written in stunning, beautiful prose. We travel with the kid as he leaves Tennessee, joins the army, is almost slaughtered by indians, joins a mercenary group, slaughters some indians, is almost slaughtered by indians again... lets just say there is alot of slaughtering.
McCarthy writes about an ugly chapter in American history without judging. He's like a naturalist, observing animals hunting and killing and eating each other in the wild. There is no morality to it; that is just what animals do. This is embodied, ironically, by a character with no name; he is only called the judge. He is 7 feet tall, powerfully strong, and completely bald. I only mention his physique because McCarthy mentions it dozens of times, often having him stroll around naked. He is a philosopher, a scientist, and a supremely efficient killer. He observes the world and the men around him but is not of them. To him, they are all animals. I'm not sure, but I think he might be the devil? Surely if the devil were on earth this is the place he would call home.
I am a fast reader, but I slogged through this book like my feet were in mud. That is not to say I didn't enjoy it; quite the contrary. I read and reread sentences and passages, marveling in the spectacle and the craft. I kept a dictionary next to me for easy reference, because it turns out there are a whole lot of words that Cormac McCarthy knows, but I don't.
I read this book last spring but didn't recommend it then because it was not a summer book, not a book to be enjoyed on the beach in the warmth and the sun. Blood Meridian is a book for winter, cold and dark and beautiful.
How, by the way, are the Yankees going to replace Mike Mussina on the pitching staff? Why, by making a six-year, $140 million offer to CC Sabathia, formerly of the Cleveland Indians and Milwaukee Brewers. Why does this worry me?
Because he weighs NEARLY 300 POUNDS. Yes. Read that again. He is a professional athlete, and he's not a football lineman. He is a pitcher. He is expected to run from the mound to first base on ground balls. Actually, scratch that: he's expected to make it from the dugout out to the mound and back at least 5 times a game. At least he's not a reliever. They'd need to set up an oxygen tank halfway between the bullpen and the mound.
Idea for a website: www.thingsthatccsabathiaweighsmorethan.com. Anybody want to help me start that up?
So, the Yankees might be on the hook for $140 million dollars for a guy that looks like he has his locker next to the buffet table. Of course, he hasn't accepted the offer yet:
Mussina's departure doesn't leave the Yankees scampering to replace
him. They made a six-year offer worth $140 million to free agent CC
Sabathia, are heavy into another free-agent hurler, A.J. Burnett, and
have an interest in a third free agent, Derek Lowe. It's believed
Sabathia won't act on the Yankee offer until after Thanksgiving.
He won't accept it until after Thanksgiving? Are they paying him by the pound? Or is his agent just waiting to see whether or not he can fit back into his baseball uniform before deciding whether or not to pursue other offers?
Mark my words: this is going to end in disaster. Although I am looking forward to seeing this entry on the Yankees injury report:
CC Sabathia, NY Yankees, pitcher: Out with being too motherfucking fat.
When you draw a line between the home-grown Yankee dynasty of the late 90s and the parade of all-stars that failed to live up their legacy in the aughts, that line starts at Mike Mussina. He signed an 8-year, $88 million deal after the 2000 season, the year of the last championship. He won 123 games as a Yankee over those 8 years in the regular season, but only 5 in the postseason (in 17 starts).
He was paid ace money, but was never the ace. There was always Roger Clemens or Andy Pettitte or Chien-Ming Wang there to take the ball on opening day, or game 1 of a playoff series. Even his signature performance, a 1-0 shutout victory over Oakland in Game 3 of the 2001 divisional playoffs, is remembered as the Jeter Flip game. Mussina might make the Hall of Fame on the back of his 270 wins, 3.68 career ERA, and 2813 strikeouts, but I don't think I ever felt watching him like I was watching an all-time great.
Mussina never seemed comfortable in the public eye. He was often described by the
New York media as "cerebral" and "thoughtful", which is another way of saying "boring". His biggest media
appearance was when he was featured in Wordplay, the documentary about
crossword puzzle enthusiasts. Compared this to Pedro Martinez, another
future Hall of Famer from his era, who brought a midget into the locker
room as a good luck charm.
But he'll get into the Hall of Fame, because being loud and flashy
isn't a prerequisite for being great. (And yes, I just wanted an excuse to use this picture again.)
I remember Mussina pitching against the Red Sox on September 2nd, 2001. Mike Mussina had retired the first 24 batters in a row - 8 perfect innings. I had missed both Davids, Wells and Cone, throw their perfect games in '98 and '99, but I had a chance to watch one here.
But in the 9th inning, the broadcast showed the strangest graphic. Mike Mussina had already taken a perfect game into the 9th inning before. He'd also taken one into the 8th inning before. He'd also pitched another one-hit, no-walk game earlier in his career. Three performances that were almost perfect games.
Carl Everett broke up the perfect game with 2 outs in the ninth inning. 2 strikes, too. Bloop single into center field. Another one-hitter. Another almost perfect game. And it was only the second hit Carl Everett ever got off of Mussina. It was like he wanted to keep his greatness as below the radar as possible. A perfect game would have been too ostentatious.
That's how Moose played his whole career. Last season was the first time he ever won 20 games in a year, and now he retires, as if to say, "Uh oh, I'm making it too obvious how great I am, I better get out of here before I get to 300 wins." I just wish that more people had realized how great he was while he was here. Myself included.
The upcoming fight over comprehensive health care reform is liable to be one of the most explosive political fights since, well, Hillarycare. And this time, it's got a bigger cast with bigger egos and even higher stakes. Who are these titans of legislation, these gatekeepers of treatment? Let's find out...
[The following note was forwarded to me OC tipper Daytrader from my fraternity's undergraduate e-mail list.]
Brothers,
As most if not all of you already know, my girlfriend of two and a half years broke up with me recently. She even more recently proceeded to get a new boyfriend. For those of you who don't know, I'm kinda attached to this girl, and I need to do whatever it takes to win her back. Namely: get involved in a fake Facebook relationship with an even hotter girl.
This is where you all come in. I need a beautiful girl (preferably with larger breasts) to pretend to be involved with me on Facebook. This includes several pictures indicating that we are "close," as well as the possible eventual changing of our Facebook relationship status. If anyone knows of any girl who fits this description and would be willing to help a guy out (nothing physical actually needs to happen, though if she wants to get in character more, I'm all for it), please, let me know and get her in contact with me.
I'm counting on each of you to step up and whore out your most attractive friends for [me]. I know this is a lot to ask, but I don't ask for that much. Thank you in advance for any assistance that you can render.
- Manbearpig
-----
I can already see the movie poster. Ryan Gosling as Manbearpig, Rosario Dawson as the fake Facebook girlfriend, and maybe Live Tyler as his ex. "You've Got Status Updates", coming to theaters near you this December.
Oh, wait, you mean we aren't in a studio pitch meeting? This is a serious idea? Um. Wow.
Hey, let's take a minute to empathize with the loss of a girlfriend. It is sad that you've been with her for two and a half years and it has ended. It really is. However: it isn't nearly as sad as your inability to accept that it is actually over. Because it is.
How do I know? The new boyfriend is the key. Girls don't pop out of long-term relationships and go right with a new guy, unless they are stone-cold bitches. Either that or, in her mind, she's been out of the long-term relationship for awhile, and she was just trying to find the easiest way to extricate herself from what had been an unpleasant situation. You may have just broken up with her, but she's been broken up with you for awhile. She just didn't have the heart to tell you. So take your pick: either you are going to make a fool out of yourself in front of everyone you know (well, more than you already have) only to go down in flames, OR you'll be successful, only to find out much later that she's actually a total bee-yotch that you were better off without. Your choice.
Or maybe I'm looking at this the wrong way. Are you actually hoping that you'll find a new girlfriend this way? No, no, I can't...it's almost too pathetic to even contemplate.
But with all that being said: don't let me discourage you from going the wacky sitcom route and creating a fake Facebook relationship. Just make sure to add me as a friend first. Because the only thing better than a car wreck is a car wreck that happens in slow motion.
Are you planning on heading out to a karaoke bar for the first time? Then do yourself, and everyone else who will be there, a huge favor: print out this list and bring it with you. Because chances are, you will commit one of the following karaoke sins, and be damned to hell's karaoke bar.
1. Nobody wants to hear you sing for seven minutes
Hell's karaoke bar, by the way, only has one song in its book: "Hotel California" by The Eagles. It's only six and a half minutes long, but it feels like so much longer. It's like the menorah of karaoke songs: you think it's only going to last for one day, but then the guitar solo plays for eight days while you stand their with the mike in your hand looking for something to do with yourself. I have a few suggestions, by the way.
Other offenders include: "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" by Meatloaf, "Rapper's Delight" by the Sugarhill Gang
Exceptions: NONE. Keep your songs to 4 minutes. 5 if you are a good singer, but guess what? You can't sing. You are in a karaoke bar.
2. Are you Michael Stipe? No? Then you don't know the words to "The End Of The World As We Know It"
mumblemumblemumblemumblemumble LEONARD BERNSTEIN
Other offenders include: "One Week" by the Barenaked Ladies, "We Didn't Start The Fire" by Billy Joel
Exceptions: The guy to did the heavy metal version of "We Didn't Start The Fire" who didn't know all the lyrics, but it was still awesome when he did HEAVY METAL SUICIIIIIIIIIDE. That guy was cool. The rest of you? No dice.
3. Okay, so now you've made the rest of us feel depressed, too. Are you happy now?
You know who you are.*
4. Uh, maybe you should have checked the lyrics before you started singing that song...
Hey, two guys who sang "Endless Love" by Diana Ross and Lionel Richie: I was totally grooving on it. You were into it, the harmony was nice, and I was just kind of amazed to see two openly homosexual men singing together in a karaoke bar in Houston. But then I realized you were both here with your wives, and it made me feel just incredibly awkward.
Other offenders include: Those same two guys singing "Unforgettable" by Nat King Cole and Natalie Cole. Seriously, guys? Is there something we should know?
5. "All Summer Long" by Kid Rock
If hell's karaoke bar only has Hotel California in the songbook, then "All Summer Long" by Kid Rock is the only song you can play on the jukebox. Not only does it suck, but now two other, formerly great songs suck by association. Imagine if "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon" and "Sweet Home Alabama" by Lynyrd Skynyrd had a baby, and that baby had Down's Syndrome. That's what this song sounds like. Stop singing it. STOP IT VERN.
Other offenders include: "Werewolves of London" and "Sweet Home Alabama". Sorry, but all I hear now is the retarded Kid Rock version. They are tainted.
6. Stop actually being an awesome singer
It's great that you are a really good singer. Really. But you know what? I suck. That is why I am in a karaoke bar, and not in a recording studio. So don't come into my karaoke bar and sing all good and shit, because you know who is next? I am. And if I sounded like crap before, what do I sound like now?
Oh, and also? The little sexy salsa dancing? You can cut that shit out, too. And why are you wearing a tie and a jacket?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??!?
7. This is the 3rd time you have sung this song, and it isn't getting any better
Hey, almost-cute blond girl? I haven't been in this karaoke bar for
over a month, and you are still singing the same two country songs.
You still suck. Sing something else. This book has hundreds and
hundreds of songs in it.
Other offenders include: The old broad that sings "Men" every time she is there. Pretty great the first time. Not so much anymore. Sorry.
Exceptions: Me. I can do "In The End" by Linkin Park as many times as I want. Cause IN THE EEEEEEEEEEND, IT DOESN'T EVEN MATTER...
This post is going to have a ton of charts, so it'll mostly be after the jump, but here's the gist:
1. The overall economy (not just the financial sector) is worse than it looks, and it looks really bad.
2. Given the particulars of how this rec/depression is likely to play out, the federal government is the only actor who has the ability to reverse the spiral of low employment->low retail sales->lower employment->lower sales.
3. Stimulus is the right thing to do, but all stimulus is not created equal.
We are about to take a long, dizzying trip through some current events. We're going to start at oil prices, make our way through fuel conservation, take a brief rest stop at the pork store, and eventually find out way to the auto maker bailout. Does that sound like fun? It doesn't?
I don't know if this is considered a waste of your time
and you may think that its very unimportant. Well anyways I'm in my
tweens. I'm in middle school and I'm having some boy troubles. There is
this guy I really like who is a year older then me and I've kinda been
getting the hint that he likes me. He looks at me in class and does something funny or stupid
then turns around to me to see if I'm looking. He ALWAYS says hi to me in
the hallways and one time when we were in the auditorium for a pep
rally (I'm one of the cheerleaders) I was walking past him when he said
"Hi! i didnt know you were a cheerleader! You are awesome." He's been giving me little
hints like that.
But then today I was in
class and this girl comes up to me and says "Are you going out with somebody?" and I said no. Then she laughed and said,
"Let me find you somebody," and she went over to where
the boy I like was sitting. She asked the boy I like if he liked me
and he said no. Then she asked, "Do you think she's pretty?" I didn't
hear what he said then because I was so embarrassed. Then I heard him say to her, "if I liked her I
would have already asked her to go out with me. That's when my heart
sank.
So please, I'm sorry if this is a waste of your time and you think
its just silly boy troubles but i really like him and it really means
a lot to me if you give me some advice. So do you think he likes me?
- unloveable :(
-----
Dear unloveable,
There were many things that struck me about your letter. I have actually had some difficulty deciding where to start. Should I answer your question, or should I answer all of my questions that were caused my your question. For example:
Why are you reading this website? This website is not for kids. There was a drawing of a penis on here once. No, don't try to find it!!
Why can't you take some of that time spent worrying about boys and instead worry about the fact that you can barely communicate? I think I spent twice as much time deciphering and editing your letter to make it readable as you did typing it out. Here's a sample:
i pretend like i dont see him but i see him in the corner of my eye. he ALWAYS says hi to me in the hallways and one time when we were in the auditorium for a prep rally (im one of the cheerleaders) i was walking past him when he said "hi $^%$^! i didnt know you were a cheerleader!" then i said "you didnt then laughed" and then he said"wow %&^%& you are awesome. you are just everything a cheerleader and all this stuff you are just awesome" then i laughed and said thank you.
You should write this boy some love notes just to practice your sentence structure.
And you are in your tweens, in middle school: why are you worried about boys? You are 11 or 12, right? Too soon! Turn off The Hills and step away from the TV! Put the Cosmogirl magazine down! Keep this up and you're going to turn me into one of those crazy people that blames the media for the downfall of society.
(Well, unless you go to school in Hartford CT, then I guess its time to start a family. You don't want to be the only girl without an ultrasound picture for show and tell!)
Okay, now I'll answer your question: yes, the boy likes you. It is obvious to you, it is obvious to me, and it was obvious to the mean girl in class who decided to make sport of the situation. But no, he will not say so. He will never, ever say so. He was as embarrassed as you were, and now he can never, ever say he likes you because then it will be even more embarrassing. Things will remain this way for some time. You will be better off being a confident young woman instead of measuring your self worth based on the opinions of easily embarrassed teenage boys. They are all very dumb. Please make a note of it.
Cyrus, the leader of the most powerful gang in New York, the Riffs, has called a summit. All the top gangs send nine unarmed delegates, where Cyrus lays out his vision of an end to gang warfare. The gangs, who outnumber the cops 3 to 1, will own the streets. But his Utopian vision is cut down before it can begin when the leader of the Rogues, who has smuggled a gun, takes him down, just as the cops show up to bust up the proceedings.
Fox, a member of The Warriors, is the only one who sees what happens. In all the confusion, The Rogues cry out that it was The Warriors, The Warriors shot Cyrus. Deep in hostile territory, and with all the gangs of New York out for blood, The Warriors must make it home to Coney Island - or die trying! Why haven't you seen it?
Because you don't watch any moves made more than 10 years ago. The Warriors was actually a modest success when it was released 1979, which is directly attributable to the controversy it created. Impressionable youths came out of the movie with a taste for the street gang lifestyle, leading to vandalism and at least three deaths involving moviegoers leaving the theater. Naturally, news of these incidents only increased the public's curiosity about the movie, because people are, on balance, pretty horrible. The business drummed up by all this violence would, regrettably, influence an over-eager public relations executive to shoot a small child in the face at the premiere of The Muppet Movie. Why should you see it?
Watching this movie, I thought to myself: this is why I created the Movie Night Movie Project.
Roger Ebert likes to say that what makes a movie good is not what it is about, but rather how it is about it. Make sense? No? It means style and heart over plot. I usually agree with him, even if this philosophy does occasionally result in positive reviews for terrible movies. And style is what The Warriors has in spades.
I'm not old enough to speak on it first hand, but I would guess that the New York City imagined in this movie is an exaggeration of urban decay. Dimly lit, covered in graffiti and garbage, the gritty setting offsets the absurdity of the players. The Warriors show up in matching jeans, elaborately embroidered leather vests, and bare chests. But the time they spent waxing each other before the big meeting is nothing compared to the time the other gangs spent doing each others makeup and selecting outfits. Consider the Furies, who show up in matching baseball outfits and face paint. Or the Rogues, in careful tattered jean jackets and headbands. Or the Mimes, who show up dressed as, uh, mimes. It is a stylistic exercise, a movie featuring real violence executed by cartoons painted in broad strokes.
Despite its gritty dark setting, the movie isn't aiming for realism. It is an urban fairy tale. No, fairy tale doesn't feel quite right; fairy tale implies a happy ending, but there is none to be found here. The Warriors fight to get back home, only to find that they are still going nowhere.
You know what really grinds my gears? When you get two highly paid professional tackle football commentators together, and they don't seem to know what the fuck they are talking about.
At a critical junction in yesterday's Giants-Eagles super football fantastic number-one throwdown, Eli Manning steps up in the pocket on third down near the 20 yard line and fires a pass to Kevin Boss for a critical first down at the 3. Uh-oh, I thought. He looked really close to the line of scrimmage. And, sure enough, the yellow flag was thrown. Illegal forward pass, five yard penalty, and loss of down. The Giants were going to have to settle for a field goal try.
As someone who earns his weekly paycheck from spinning prose, and who is extremely opinionated when it comes to entertainment, I find it extremely frustrating when I have difficulty expressing my thoughts as to why someone should take in some sort of media.
This, however, is where I am with This American Life. This radio show, syndicated weekly on National Public Radio -- and available as a free, yes FREE, podcast via iTunes. So, maybe you should just go to the website and listen to an episode. That's a pretty lame recommendation though.
In the words of host Ira Glass, "each week on This American Life we choose a theme, and bring you a variety of stories on that theme." These stories can be fiction or nonfiction, and they run the gamut in style and presentation -- lots of journalistic documentary, some short fiction read by soothing voices, some stand-up comedy, and some David Sedaris (who is a genre and entity unto himself).
If you become a regular listener of the show, chances are you'll choose a favorite contributor. Mine is Sarah Vowell. Mainly because I think I'd like to marry her, if the opportunity presented itself. She's quirky, dorky, funny, and into history. She wrote a book (Assassination Vacation, which I should do a Read: about at some point) where she told of her adventures in historical tourism focusing on the Lincoln, Garfield, and McKinley assassinations.
It's often difficult to recommend a starting point for the show. I have my favorites -- the last segment of Episode #74, Conventions, in which a man meets the love of his life at a convention center in San Francisco -- he's at a computer convention (for Steve Jobs' NeXT), she's at a psychiatric convention... and they just happen to live in the same building in New York City.
Episode #125, Apocalypse, is all about the Rapture. Yes, that rapture. The evils of bar codes, the religious right, and a group of born-again Christians who are working in conjunction with some crazy orthodox Jews to breed a red heifer.
Episode #107, Trail of Tears, in which Sarah Vowell and her twin sister Amy trek across the country, along the route of the sad march of the Cherokee people. The Vowell sisters are 1/32nd Cherokee, grew up in Oklahoma, and have no love for Ol' Hickory. None at all
And yes, I've liked more than three episodes. I've also disliked quite a few. I've never really bin a fan of the annual Thanksgiving Poultry Slam series, aside from one piece about a photographer who took a series of portraits of chickens.
So don't take my word for it, give it a listen. I'm even going to recommend a starting point. Episode #168, The Fix is In, an hour about an international price fixing conspiracy. It's entertaining, tragic, funny, and scary -- it's got the FBI *and* Japanese businessmen. Give it an hour, and then, hopefully, keep listening.
[Back by popular demand! Ask GirlShrink is published on perhaps the ugliest website I have ever seen. And can you believe they charge for personal advice? Their advice is terrible!! For the original column, click here.]
Dear GirlShrink OC, I have been in this "sort of" relationship for about 18 months with a man I adore. While not a perfect man, he is perfect for me. He still says he wants to keep things "without a title" because he doesn't want to hurt or disappoint me. He says that he is only seeing and sleeping with me. What else do I need to do? Why won't this man love me? Why doesn't he want me? -R.T.
First of all: Girlshrink answers too many fucking letters in a single column. I don't have all goddamn day, so: everyone gets three sentences.
Your boyfriend is a cliche, but at least he is open and honest about it. Without more details about you I cannot evaluate why he doesn't love you, although the mind swims at all the possibilities. If you require commitment, then dump him.
This has been a long time coming, Wired. You can't say that you didn't ask for it. First, you wrote one of the most ignorant, arbitrarily contrarian articles I have ever seen, where you state that the way to fight global warming was to drive SUVs and kill owls. Hey, Wired? I got another way to fight global warming: stop blowing all that smoke out of your ass.
But if I was going to make everyone who said something stupid my enemy, I'd be sitting alone in my cabin in the woods clinging to my guns and religion and antipathy to people who aren't like me. So I gave Wired a pass. But now they have gone too far. They've made it personal.
This morning, Kevin sends me a link to a review of an electric bicycle: "Is this the one you bought?"
No, Kevin, it isn't. Are you judging me now, too? Because Wired sure is. No, the bike I purchased is the Europa by Ultra Motor, pictured here. After my first 400 miles on the bike, I can tell you that:
Not by any stretch of the imagination should you expect to get 20 miles to a charge. 15 miles, tops.
It goes 20 miles an hour, unless there is a stiff breeze. That can take you down to 16-17.
But I still love it. It gets me to and from work while only taking 15 minutes longer than if I was taking the car. I can now go 2 weeks or more between trips to the gas station. Girls smile at me, and not just because my helmet makes me look "special". And its good for the environment.
Apparently, I shouldn't be happy. I should be ashamed of myself. From Wired's review for the Giant Twist Freedom DX:
"A true hybrid, the Twist has no throttle. It relies on both pedal power
and an unobtrusive, yet sturdy 300-watt motor to set you on your way.
If you don't pedal, there's no power and that's just the way Giant [...] thinks it ought to be."
Oh, really? That's how it OUGHT to be? Well, here's how I think it ought to be, Wired: I think that if I'm spending $2000 on a bike, the goddamn thing better pedal for me, steer for me, and fix me a sandwich. I think that it should keep its batteries somewhere other than my saddlebags, because I'm already using those. And it should look like it comes from the not-to-distant future. What's the point of having an electric bike if nobody can tell? How will Mexicans riding in the backs of pickup trucks know to give you thumbs up?
If electric bikes are going to catch on, people are going to buy the one that is easier to use. Period. That is the whole point behind putting a motor on it in the first place. But, hey, if people actually started riding electric bikes, then they wouldn't drive their SUVs anymore, and we have to drive SUVs to fix global warming, right?
On Monday, I challenged you, the Obscure Nation, to try to beat my prediction of the Electoral Map. In keeping with the spirit of this historic election, you responded in near record numbers - that's right, two people entered!!
My map was hopelessly pessimistic. I predicted an Obama victory, but with only 291 votes to McCain's 247. I think some of the excess red on that map might be from me cutting myself.
The winner of the challenge is William Ockham, who predicted Obama would take down 376 electoral votes. His only misses were Missouri and part of Nebraska, which he put in Obama's column. Here's how the standings break down.
First place: Reality, Obama 364 - McCain 174 Second place: Willie O, Obama 376 - McCain 162 (+12) Third place: Nate Silver, Obama 349 - McCain 189 (-15) Fourth place (tie): Kevin CJ, Obama 338 - McCain 200 (-26) Fourth place (tie): Karl Rove, Obama 338 - McCain 200 (-26)
(Hey, have you ever seen Kevin and Karl Rove in the same place? I know I haven't. Interesting...)
Last place: My dumb ass, Obama 291 - McCain 247 (-73)
Thanks everyone for playing. Or not playing. Whatever.
Watching the election last night, it became clear very early that things were going to go well for Barack Obama. The only holdout was the Suze. She refused to believe that it was possible that he would win. "Remember how we thought Kerry was going to win? Remember how that felt? REMEMBER?!?" she said at least half a dozen times. Each time a critical new state was called for Obama - Pennyslvania, Ohio, Michigan - Suzi would tell us not to count our chickens before they hatched. Actually, that's what she said the first couple of times. By the end of the night, she just stuck her finger out at me and Kevin and cried, "Chickens! CHICKENS!!"
After watching video and seeing pictures of some of the celebrations that took place after Obama's victory last night, I know exactly how she felt. He's been elected, yes. But that was the easy part. Now for the hard part: delivering on all the promise and hope that people have invested in him. And the only thing more historically significant than our election of the first black president is how historically fucked up our country is at this moment.
The election is only the first part. Obama and this country have a long way to go. Chickens! CHICKENS!!
I upset someone on Facebook today. His name is Stoffer. He posted this message:
"I voted for Bob Barr."
I posted a comment on his message:
"How embarrassing."
To which he promptly replied that he did not care to hear about my political views and that I should, in fact, go fuck myself.
Fair enough. I would argue that if he didn't want to hear mine he shouldn't show me his, but I'm not here to pick on Stoffer. But it is embarrassing. I'd rather stand up in a crowded room and announce that I'd just peed myself than say I'd voted for a third party candidate.
The election of 2000 was the death of the third party candidacy as a viable option. No longer was it acceptable to vote your conscience. No, that's wrong. What I really mean is, nobody's conscience should tell them to vote for a third party candidate. Voting for a third party candidate is to vote without voting, without consequence. It is to say, I will not take any responsibility for the outcome of this election. It is the easy way out. It is compromise that is difficult.
Voting is, by necessity, a reductive act. It eliminates all nuance. You may be an analog person, but voting is digital. 1 or 0. On or off. Republican or Democrat.
I do not claim to agree with every policy position of Barack Obama. I'll give you an example: I find his support of "Clean Coal" to be pandering to states with large coal mining industries where he needs votes. That doesn't mean I'm going to vote for the Green Party candidate, even if they are opposed to Clean Coal technology. I don't know if they are or not - I haven't bothered to look it up. It is a waste of time.
I accept my decision as compromised, as many decisions are. There are times where it is honorable and courageous to be principled and take a stand, and to refuse to compromise. I refuse to eat at Friendly's. I will not compromise on this issue. But when you step into the voting booth, voting for a third party candidate does not feel like a courageous and principled stand. It feels like a cop-out.
But it can be worse than a cop-out. Back to the 2000 election. Al Gore defeated by George W. Bush, with Ralph Nader scooping up 5% of the vote. It is not going out on a limb to state that, if it was a binary decision, 9 out of 10 Nader voters would have gone to Al Gore. So, too, would the election. And if 9 out of 10 Nader voters preferred Al Gore to George Bush, then their principled stand against the two-party system only served to hurt them.
So fight for your principles. Write letters, donate time and money to charities, and try to influence your peers. But when you step into the voting booth, don't be a jackass. Don't pee on yourself. Democrat or Republican. 1 or 0. Make a choice that matters.
All the chatter at ObscureCraft has been Obama this, McCain that. By now, Sarah Palin must be stomping her feet in frustration: "What about me? I'm still here and crazy, you know!" Right you are, Sarah Palin, sorry about that.
Take it away, militant feminist and saucy homosexual:
Yesterday on Monday Night Football, the Washington Redskins played the Pittsburgh Steelers. For the last 40 years, the last game played by the Redskins before Election Day has been predictive of the results. If the Redskins win, the incumbent party holds the White House. If the Redskins lose, the incumbent party loses. This has been accurate every time except once, in 1984. Last night, Obama beat McCain 23-6.
The town of Dixville Notch, New Hampshire is the first town in the United States to vote. All the residents get up at midnight to deliver their ballots. The town voted for George W. Bush in 2004 and 2000, for Bob Dole in 1996, and for George H.W. Bush in 1992. Last night, Barack Obama won Dixville Notch by a vote of 15 to 6.
If you find any bellwethers I've missed, leave them in the comments.
A woman from a Detroit suburb made headlines this Halloween by refusing to give out candy to Obama-supporting children. If I'm the 1000th person on the internet to make a spreading-the-wealth related candy distribution joke do I win a prize?
"I said no handouts for Obama supporters. No handouts for tricksters and liars. Obama is scary."
Uh, maybe Obama is scary, but he isn't scarier than vampire or a ghost! And I bet you gave all the McCain supporting ghosts candy!
When asked about the children who were crying because they didn't get any candy, her response was:
"Oh well. Everybody has a choice."
I hope the neighborhood children exercise their choice to egg the holy living fuck out of her house.
On a serious note: you just do not see Democrats doing this kind of shit. I am sorry, but if you see some crazy person doing some crazy thing like denying non-voting, Obama-supporting 5-year-olds candy, its a Republican. Just a hunch, but this feels like the kind of thing a crazy evangelical Christian Republican does.
Unsurprisingly for readers or anyone who knows me personally, I will be voting for Barack Obama tomorrow. Thanks to the Electoral College, my vote will be meaningless, but I believe it's a moral imperative. Beyond policy issues, which reasonable people can and do disagree about, there's a question of character. People have pointed to many different moments as to why the John McCain of 2008 doesn't much resemble the John McCain of 2000, mostly the appointment of Sarah Palin and the hiring of campagin manager Steve Schmidt, but really it came in the Fall of 2006, during the debate over the Military Commissions Act. The one that suspended habeus corpus and legalized torture. For a full refresher see this NYT Editorial written at the time.
John McCain, a former prisoner of war and victim of brutal torture, made a bold, courageous stand. With fellow moderate Republican Arlen Specter and a few others, they declared to their own party that certain things were simply not acceptable. Now, I run in pretty liberal circles, and other, more cynical people told me that it was a charade and when the chips were down, they'd vote for the bill. But I didn't believe it. Perhaps Specter, or Chafee, or Snowe, but not John McCain.
It was the last time I'd ever give him the benefit of the doubt. I don't know what George Bush offered him in the 'negotiations' that convinced him to switch his support to the bill, probably donor lists, contacts, and other institutional support in the 2008 primary. We do know he did get them shortly afterwards, specifically the list of Bush's "Rangers", his best fundraising bundlers.
In 2000, John McCain ran an honorable campaign, and was beaten by dirty tricks, specifically a whisper campaign in South Carolina that his adopted child was his illegitimate black baby. It was a horrible smear tactic, but it taught McCain the wrong lessons. It seems like a hard decision, but after publically endorsing torture for the party's support, his later decisions must have been more swallowable. Down in the polls in 2008, he hired the architect of that campaign to work for him:
"When then-Gov. Bush called upon Eskew, Tompkins and Rhodes to help him during the Florida recount, a senior McCain adviser told me that "when the going gets tough for Governor Bush, he turns to the darker side of our party. We saw that in South Carolina, and we see that today."
Eight years later, with a tough fight of his own, McCain has turned to one of the same men. Asked if the McCain campaign would have a comment about hiring one of the South Carolina strategists the senator and his 2000 campaign team once held responsible for smears against him, McCain 2008 spokesman Brian Rogers emailed, "No.""
He sold his principles, and the last thing America should do is reward that level of cynicism and mistrust of the public. Don't prove Tucker Eskew right.
I made my prediction of the Electoral Map using this website. Think you can do better? Make your own map, send me the screenshot, and I'll post the winner whenever the final returns are in.
You want a prize? Shit, I just gave out a prize. This contest is too easy for a prize. Just do it. I'm not made of prizes.
It would mean that nobody knows anything. Obama has led in the polls for weeks. FiveThirtyEight.com, the popular electoral projection website, puts his odds of winning at 96.3%. Former Bush administration officials have been falling over themselves to be the first and loudest to endorse Obama. And McCain himself went on Saturday Night Live and did everything short of delivering a concession speech.
It would mean that race still matters above all else. And I'm not calling all McCain supporters racist. What I mean is this: according to CNN.com, 70% of those polled said race would not be a factor in their decision. They say it like that's the headline. Here's the headline I see: 30% of those polled said race WOULD be a factor in their decision. And if Obama loses with an apparent lead in the polls, then I know where I would point a finger first.
It would mean we get the government we deserve. Whatever you think about policies, McCain/Palin have run one of the nastiest, most underhanded campaigns I have ever seen. So quick to attach labels, and turn everything into a meaningless slogan. Terrorists. Socialist. Real America. Muslim. Atheist. Drill baby drill. Think what you want about his association with William Ayers or Jeremiah Wright, but I dare you to justify this:
Pay particular attention to the photograph at the 20 second mark: Obama, leering, casting his gaze downward. What might he be looking at? Why, perhaps its one of those sexy sexy kindergarteners. Here are a few more labels: despicable. Indefensible.
And it would mean that there is no longer a place for the Democratic Party in national politics. If they cannot win an election when the incumbent president has an approval rating in the 20s, and 85% of people think the country is going in the wrong direction, then they might as well hang it up.
Side note: I promise that ObscureCraft will get back to covering non-election related topics by the end of this week. But right now its all I can think about. I'm like a kid on Christmas Eve, except I'm terrified that instead of a puppy, I'm going to open a box and find a severed puppy head like Brad Pitt in Seven. The only way I can deal with my nerves is to blog. So expect about 100 more posts like this over the next 48 hours until I calm down.
I know it must be startling to you regular reader(s?) to hear that, but it is true. Although, I think that isn't really the proper way to put it. I didn't vote for Barack Obama because I think he is a transformational figure who will change the way Washington does things and usher in a new era of enlightenment and understanding and end racism and defeat the Nazis and yadda yadda yadda. I didn't really vote for Barack Obama so much as I voted against the Republican Party.
The Democrats could have run a ticket of Teri Schiavo and Beaker from the Muppets and I would have voted Schiavo/Beaker '08. It doesn't matter to me if Obama's pastor hates America, or if he and domestic terrorist William Ayers are BFFs, or if he's a secret Muslim or a socialist. The Republican Party needs to be removed from power. The actions (inactions?) and incompetence of the last eight years needs to be repudiated.
Starting in the countryside of Europe, we meet a boy and his grandmother. The grandmother tries, at first unsuccessfully, to find something that can make the boy happy. She plays the piano for him. She buys him a puppy, an electric train set. None of these works. Finally, while cleaning his room, she finds his secret passion under his mattress. No, not that. It is cycling. She buys him a bicycle, and he excitedly pedals it around the yard. Happy at last.
Fast forward. The boy is a young adult, and a competitive cyclist. During a race, he is abducted by the Mafia, and he's taken across the sea to...
Blah blah blah. Describing the plot of this film does injustice to what makes it special. Consider the part of the movie I've just mentioned. The grandmother and the dog track the boy to a large ship pulling out of port. To pursue, they rent a paddleboat. The grandmother and the dog chase the boy across the ocean in a scene that manages to be ridiculous while keeping a straight face, and also beautiful at the same time.
It's probably about time that I mentioned that this movie is animated. It is animated not in the clean, children's fare style of Disney or Don Bluth, but in the grittier, dingier style of Ralph Bakshi.
Why haven't you seen it?
So. Many. Reasons.
Animated films always have an uphill battle. I say "animated film", but you likely hear "cartoon". You shouldn't.
It was produced by a French-Canadian named Sylvain Chomet. Yes, that's right, this movie manages to be both French AND Canadian.
Oh, and while it might be a stretch to call it a silent film, as there is music and sound effects, there is no dialogue.
Why should you see it?
Again, I can only say: So. Many. Reasons.
This movie has so many great things to enjoy. The animation and design of the characters, the places, and the objects is inspired. Every character is beautifully realized and believable. Oh, and did I mention the Academy-Award nominated music?
In case you are wondering, yes, that music was actually created using newspapers, a refrigerator, a vacuum, and a tire wheel. FYI.
(Unrelated note: imagine my delight when three of my favorite things collided: this song, So You Think You Can Dance, and Wade Robson.)
(Now back to the movie.)
Keeping in the spirit of the Movie Night Movie Project, Les Triplets De Belleville runs 78 minutes, and grossed just over $7 million dollars at the box office.
Greg, obviously. Our only other entry was of a pumpkin painted onto a fan man's (man's?) ass - although Of course, I would expect nothing lest from our first graduate from the School of Bracketology.
See his winning entry here. Greg, I'll be in touch about getting you your prizes - and when you get them, I expect pictures of them in action!
