Popthomology

TODAY'S PSA: PROTECT YOUR BRAINZ, PEOPLE

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Mon, 30 Jan 2012 03:28:00 +0000

It seems very common-sense, doesn't it? You, whatever that is you think of as the you of you, are your brain. Your brain is everything, the real Wizard of Oz, Captain Of The Ship, Master Of The Universe. It's the best and most powerful thing you own or will ever own.

So why why why why why WHY do we not treat it with the respect and care it deserves?

This terribly sad story from CNN reminded me that no sport, no game, nothing is worth the loss that Nathan Stiles' family now must endure. The 17-year-old Kansas high student lost his life from the cumulative brain damage he acquired playing high school football. Recent studies have shown that the effects of only two or more concussive head injuries over a lifetime can lead to long-term neurological damage, and may possibly be linked to early forms of Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and ALS, as well as chronic depression and personality changes.

This is not good news for millions of people who have experienced multiple concussions, and I am included in that number. Over a five-year time period in my teens I had a series of five accidents, all of which resulted in concussions with a loss of consciousness, most of which could have been prevented or made less serious:

-- a fall at home;

-- a skiing accident on icy ground, no helmet;

-- two major car accidents within two months, no seatbelts worn;

-- crowd surge at a concert, hit to back of head.

After the last one, at age nineteen, my doctor looked at me very grimly and told me that I was walking on thin ice. He continued to say that with the next head injury, my luck could very well run out, and I could have permanent brain damage. I nodded, went home, and cried my eyes out, scared to death. At that age, everything had seemed random, not my fault, out of my control. But it really wasn't. I could have been more careful, more safety-conscious, and should have been. Sure, I was young and young people naturally make mistakes, and I don't beat myself up about it. But I do have to live with the real possibility that someday my brain may age faster or differently than it would have if I had not had those accidents. I don't dwell on it, won't dwell on it, but...well. You know.

So my simple message that I would like pass on to anyone reading this is that even though your brain can be a real jerk sometimes, please remember to show it some love. If you ski, wear a helmet, even if you are just on the bunny hill. If you are riding on a bicycle or motorcycle, ATV, whatever, wear a helmet every time. If you are in a car, always wear a seatbelt. Have fun, but be smart. And parents, think very very very hard before allowing your kids to play traditional football or any other sport where hard hits to the head are not only common, but part of the game. Protective equipment is getting better, yes, but it's still not good enough. It just isn't, especially as more and more research comes in on the brains of former college and pro football players and boxers, and the puzzle pieces are coming together, telling us it doesn't take more than a few good blows to possibly alter the brain in significant, negative, permanent ways.

We are our brains. Ask anyone who has had to care for a parent lost to dementia, or had to bury a beautiful 17-year-old child because he played football with the rest of his friends, and who misses them so very much.

(sticker from oph3lia)

TODAY, PEOPLE IN MY HOMETOWN WILL BE EATING RACCOONS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 21:56:00 +0000

It's to be expected -- many of our memories fade or disappear with the passage of time. I hate that, but I understand that there's a function to it. If we were constantly being bombarded by old brain content, it would be hard to make new brain content, right? Also, our psyches sometimes suppress content that is disturbing or unproductive to our sense of well-being. It is possibly the latter mechanism at work for me in the case of an event I had completely forgotten about until reminded by my friend Lahna, my former next-door neighbor, a couple of days ago.

In the small south-central Wisconsin town where I spent my first nine years, where I first learned to walk, ride a bike, swim in a lake, where my dad was Mayor for four of those nine years, where I got freshly-made foot-long pretzels at the tiny bakery and bought 16 Magazine at the drugstore with a single shiny quarter, there is an annual event, much-beloved and now in its 85th year. There is no doubt I must have attended this as a child, and possibly did so several times.

Ladies and Gentlemen, today is the Delafield Coon Feed, held at the American Legion Post Hall.

Yes, that's raccoon meat they are serving up, along with ham, turkey, mashed potatoes and gravy, stuffing, sauerkraut, coleslaw, bread, and surely beer.

And I had forgotten this. I am shocked and need to have a stern talk with my brain, for as disturbing as this kinda really is, it is also utterly awesome. This is SO WISCONSIN, in its strangeness and, yes, sweetness. Something I do remember about growing up in Delafield, even though I have specifically blocked out the COON FEED, is that I loved these kinds of gatherings. There was the potluck at the Christ the King Lutheran Church, the Pancake Dinner served in the cafeteria of Cushing Elementary, and the summer fair which I also now cannot remember the damn name of, but do remember that it was a celebration of OLD DAYS and history and the very old Hawks Inn would be opened to the public and I got to ride once in a Model T rumble seat in the parade. There were these events that brought the community together, young and old, and it felt like you really belonged to something.

I left Wisconsin for good in 1984, headed West, and never lived in a small town again. It was certainly the right decision for me, but I think a part of my character will always miss these quirky gatherings with so many familiar friendly faces, something that city life can never really provide.

Lahna also kindly informed me of this Sky Full Of Bacon mini-documentary about the Coon Feed, which you may now share in viewing, too. I swear to you my accent is not that heavy. Anymore.

If I were in Delafield today, I would absolutely turn up for the Coon Feed with a face-splitting grin...although I think I'd opt for the ham.

UPDATE: 3:32PM -- I just spoke with my mother, also 85, and she confirms that our family went to the Coon Feed every year we lived there, and that I ATE THE RACCOON, and that one year there was also BEAR on the menu, shot with special permission from the WI. Dept. of Natural Resources because the bear was bothering a bee farmer. OMG.

TONY BENNETT ON PBS ON BBS!

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sat, 28 Jan 2012 00:30:00 +0000

For today's content I am going to direct to you Back Beat Seattle, where I have a little write -up about TONIGHT'S premiere of PBS' "Great Performances -- Tony Bennett: Duets II," airing at 9PM PST here on KCTS9 (other areas of the country please check your local listings). I was excited to view the press screener for this wonderful 90 minute program, especially after having the opportunity to photograph Mr. Bennett at Seattle's Paramount Theater last December. So go ahead, click HERE to read PBS on BBS and don't miss the show!

(Tony Bennett, Paramount Theater, December 17, 2011, shot for Back Beat Seattle)

MY 30 MINUTES AT ROSS WITH COCKATOO BOY, CART SLAM GIRLS, AND THEIR LAME PARENTS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 03:32:00 +0000

In the tight 30-minute space I had this afternoon between picking up Mr13 and picking up MissNine from their schools today, I decided to fit in a trip to Ross Dress For Less. (Do you think that there's a guy called Ross Dressforless somewhere in the world? Oh, I hope so.) I am nearly physically unable to make myself pay full retail for anything, so I get quite a bit of the family gear from places like Ross and TJ Maxx and Marshall's, and I think we look pretty decent on most days. Anyway, my practiced eagle-eye was zooming in on potential scores on the clothing racks when I gradually become aware of a very loud, repeated sound, which could accurately be compared to THIS.

Everyone else in the store was also aware of it, as I could see in the turning heads, frowns, and clucking disapproval noises coming from the other shoppers. This terrible, brain-melting sound was not at all a Moluccan Cockatoo, but what looked to be an 18-mo-old boy rattling around unsecured in his mother's bright blue Ross shopping cart. He was not ill or injured, just VERY VERY UNHAPPY about shopping at Ross that day. Now, as a parent, I totally understand that young children are prone to making loud outbursts of displeasure or joy; they are to be expected and, I believe, reasonably tolerated. HOWEVER, Mrs. Moluccan Cockatoo earns my digital wrath today, for she did absolutely NOTHING to better her child's shopping experience nor show the rest of us shoppers and the captive Ross workers any consideration whatsoever by taking her child out of the store until he was calm. She slowly kept on shopping, stopping often to text or look at an item of clothing, completely ignoring her child and the blindingly obvious aural discomfort he was causing EVERYONE.

This kept on for the entire 30 minutes of my Ross visit. The child's screeching was so loud that you could not hear the music over the store PA (a good thing) or have a single unshattered thought (a bad thing). I wondered if somehow he had grabbed a discount kitchen implement and had accidentally disemboweled himself in the cart; no, I looked, no baby entrails strewn about. Had he pinched his fingers in the cart? No. Was he on fire? No. Was his mother on fire, and he was trying desperately to alert us? Sadly, no.

It gets better, folks.

As I made my way towards the checkout, I made the mistake of looking to my right for a nanosecond at a shiny object in the purse aisle. BAM!!! My cart received quite a jolt, and I was startled and instantly VERY VERY UNHAPPY. As I looked over, I saw yet another toddler and her sister, who was about three years old, and that they had teamed together to procure an empty Ross cart and were happily busy slamming it into anything in their path. WELL, OK, I seethed to myself, THEY ARE VERY VERY YOUNG, BUT WHERE IS THEIR G*DD*MNED MOTHER? OH. OH. LIKE FIVE FEET AWAY, WATCHING AND NOT DOING ANYTHING. I SEE. I stared at her in disbelief as she stood, WATCHING THEM, and TEXTING, and NOT WATCHING HER OTHER TWO KIDS EITHER. Did I miss something? Was Ross having a sale on HELL today?

After about two minutes Mrs. Cart Slam made the weakest possible effort to reign in her daughters, saying in the quietest, lamest voice, "Hey. Stop. You guys." Of course, the kids either didn't hear her or didn't care, and no one at Ross was willing to step in and say, YOU KNOW, MA'AM, IT'S A NO. As the toddler made another run at my cart, I caught her eye with my own Deeply Honed Stinkeye, shook my head in the gravest manner possible, and said, "NO" with some finality. Her tiny face dropped a bit as she stared back at me, and she walked away from her cart and back to her lame-ass mother.

I finally got to checkout, where I noticed the Customer Service Agent was cringing and rolling her eyes at the ongoing outbursts from Cockatoo Boy. I looked at her, sympathetically, and said, "Just pretend he's some kind of exotic tropical bird from the zoo. It helps."

She burst out laughing, said "Oh my god, you're right!" and kept laughing as she finished checking me out, and I escaped out the sliding glass doors to the sweet, blissful sounds of the late-afternoon suburban parking lot.

ARIZONA: TRASH ACT, CLASS ACT

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 02:18:00 +0000

I don't think there's much more to add to these two examples of leadership other than this: think carefully about the character of the people you choose to vote into office, and remember that despite the corruption and game-playing and division, there are still good people out there who wish to serve the public honorably.

(via The Huffington Post, 1/25/12)

"Arizona Governor Jan Brewer traded words with President Obama after she greeted him at a Phoenix airport Wednesday.

Brewer and Obama "spoke intensely for a few minutes" after he landed at Phoenix-Mesa Gateway Airport, according to a White House pool report. At one point, the GOP governor shook her finger at the president.

"He was a little disturbed about my book," Brewer told a reporter after the incident, referring to her political memoir, "Scorpions for Breakfast." In the book, Brewer depicted Obama as "patronizing" during an earlier meeting.

"I said to him that I have all the respect in the world for the office of the president," Brewer said. "The book is what the book is. I asked him if he read the book. He said he read the excerpt. So."

Brewer said Obama told her "that he didn't feel I had treated him cordially."

"I said I was sorry he felt that way but I didn't get my sentence finished," Brewer said. "Anyway, we're glad he's here. I'll regroup."

The Resignation Speech of AZ. Rep. Gabrielle Giffords

I MADE YOU SOME SOUPS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Wed, 25 Jan 2012 01:37:00 +0000

There's nothing like a hot, delicious bowl of soup on a chilly winter night to comfort the body and soul. Here are a few from Campbell's that you might like to pick up the next time you go to the grocery store -- be sure to ask a clerk for them if they are hard to find on the shelves! MMM MMM GOOD!

IT'S A MOD, MOD, MOD WORLD, OR, POPTHOMOLOGY GETS A REDESIGN, WOO HOO!

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 04:22:00 +0000

OK, err buddy...TODAY is the DAY! Before we go any further, please take a moment to play this 23 second fanfare:

Today is Popthomology Redesign Day, complete with a BRAND-SPANKIN'-NEW LOGO designed by YOURS TRULY, who is NORMALLY NOT A DESIGNER! WOOOO! (Ed. note to readers on Open Salon and RSS: this will make no sense at all to you unless you go to the site itself, which I hear increases lifespan, brings monetary good luck, and makes you irresistible to Tremendously Attractive People)

Fun facts: the cartoon girl is writing on a device from the Distant Past called a "Typewriter," and the Popthomology logo font is from the The Mary Tyler Moore Show. I'm gonna make it after all (hat toss)! I'd tell you how long it took for me to put the glasses on the letters just the right way, but it might be too embarrassing to confess.

It's a big change overall from the last groovy incarnation of the site, and a HUGE difference from how the site looked when I started it almost 4 years ago as Diarrhea Island. All the usual content like People Like Lists and Weirdo Picture Corner remains along with the now-MASSIVE archives, but some things like the daily posts are compacted so the page loads faster and it's easier to navigate. There's a cool new Flickr slideshow and nifty social media buttons to find even MORE content I have (like concert photos and my Twitter blather) or to share stuff you like on the site with your fave social media sites, email, etc. There's a paginator and a back-to-top button, and an Amazon widget you can click if you'd like to get the blog on yer Kindle or buy a few other things I worked on over the years. There's a gorgeous and bold new background image from Canadian poster artist Vittorio Fiorucci from a 1965 film festival, indefatigable Copyright Go-Go Dancers and the weirdest and therefore funniest thing of all...Popthomology SWAG! Yes, although it doesn't really make a lot of sense, now you can actually buy Popthomology t-shirts, water bottles, mugs, and BEST OF ALL, UNDERWEAR! My entire life has been leading up to this moment, where I might someday know that a stranger on the internet has something I made on his or her unmentionables. Did I mention the underwear is MAGIC and FREE KITTENS come with every purchase? No? Oh good, because that's totally not true.

As I have the web design and coding skills of a not-terribly-bright monkey, this deal only got done through the extremely generous and tenacious efforts of my dear friend WN, who spent hours with me online trying to figure out how to make everything I wanted to have here work in a template that was NOT HAPPY about being modified. Where I would have given up in frustration, thrown a stick at my laptop and screamed, "EEE EEE EEE EEE!," he persisted until all the problems were solved and bugs were gone. There may be a few still lurking, but I think most everything seems good to go. We'll probably play around with it a bit more in the next few days, so it might look a little dodgy for a few minutes here and there. Be sure to call CNN about it, though; they need important stuff to write about there.

Anyway, I hope you like the new look as much as I do, and it's back to the business of getting stuff on here that is fun and/or interesting for you to read! Thanks!

AMUSING OLD IMAGES FROM THE INTERHAPS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Mon, 23 Jan 2012 06:27:00 +0000

I've been working hard at a BIG site redesign the last few days, and by "working hard" I mean spending hours looking for cool widgets and drinking peppermint chai. In-between widget wrangling and peculiar beverages, I also happened across some pretty funny images that I thought I would put up here for you, all Tumblr-style. Oh, imagine, I think I will say to my kids, imagine that once upon a time I lived in a world of teacup contest monkeys, a $2500 15MB hard drive, toaster bacon, Bob Barker in Sonny Bono's fur vest, and the Stove-A-Sink-A-Fridge!

Back to design "work" I go, and maybe to water my monkey.

"IT'S DIFFERENT DOWN THERE"

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 05:32:00 +0000

Tonight, after my ire and despair buttons were poked hard by yet another painful GOP debate (this time coming from South Carolina), I remembered something I hadn't thought about in a long time. It was something a friend said -- a friend I really liked, a very bright, funny, loyal guy. He had grown up in Georgia, moved to the West to go to school, and stayed out West to build his professional career and raise a family. I found out that he held some markedly different viewpoints than I did on the topic of Black Americans, which I found very puzzling and very, very disappointing. He didn't at first elaborate much when asked directly about justifying racism. He just said this, and I have never forgotten it:

"You can't understand. It's different down there. The culture, everything...you'd have to have lived there to know what I'm talking about."

My immediate reaction was defensive, although not out-and-out combative, not wanting to have some kind of stupid fight with him over my kitchen table on a relaxed and sunny Sunday afternoon. But how dare he say I couldn't understand, and worse, implied that if I had ever lived in Georgia, I would agree with him! Me, a born (Midwest) Northerner and Western transplant! A liberal, even! Not very likely, pal.

"It's different down there."

Well...sure it is, of course. Everyone knows that the Civil War still seems to be going on in many of our Southern states, the effects of hundreds of years of slavery and slave ownership deeply rooted. But...why? My friend seemed to be saying that the "culture" of the Southern Black was to blame, not the bitter Mr. White Water Cannon. He didn't have any problems at all with the black people out West, he said, as I struggled to hold back comments that would have wiped away his wide, friendly grin. His take on the general interests, habits, and activities of Southern Blacks were a litany of racial stereotypes, offered with no smugness, no searing hatred, and with some amount of self-aware embarrassment, but offered nonetheless.

It was hard to sit there, because I knew I could never really see my friend in the same way again. My anger slowly filtered down to a resigned, final sadness, nothing that could be seen by him from my smile as we changed the topic and I brought him a cold Bass beer from the kitchen.

What do I know about the South, really? Personally? Nothing. I've spent very little time in any of our Southern states, other than multiple vacations in suburban-y Sarasota, Florida, which of course doesn't count as "the real Southern experience," a few days running up and down Texas, a day trip to Lake of the Ozarks, and time so briefly spent on roads and hotel rooms in Oklahoma, Kentucky, and West Virginia as to offer no memorable "culture" moments at all. What do I know about Southern Black Culture? What the hell is Southern Black Culture? I don't know. Does it exist, and if it does, whose version of it should I believe? Can I understand, or can I never understand what it is like to be anything other than I am, or be able to intake the complexities of having been raised in a place that once sold humans like farm animals?

In 2012, I hear men running for United States President use barely-concealed racist code words in their speeches, to cheers and claps from their audience members in South Carolina. I remember my friend and his words, and my heart breaks a bit, again.

THE HUMAN EYE IS A WONDER

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sat, 21 Jan 2012 05:49:00 +0000

Once again, some artwork handed to me by MissNine with no explanation. She's correct, of course.

FIVE "UGLY" SONGS OF COUNTRY MUSIC

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Fri, 20 Jan 2012 04:08:00 +0000

I can't think of a more plainly-spoken genre of music than good ol' American country. Hip hop comes close, but I find the urban-style plain-talk to be liberally interspersed with lots of bragging exaggeration, too. No, country music has thrived for years on simple, direct expressions of down-home life, which millions of people all over the world can relate to, even if they do not drive a truck, have all their own teeth, and have never been further south than Toledo (Ohio or Spain).

Country music is also often funny, by winking intent or sincere misadventure. (For the latter, please click HERE to enjoy the wonder that is Red Sovine, GENIUS.) Today, I am going to bring you a few vintage country gems addressing those lyrical folk...um... unblessed...with traditionally-appealing physical features. Ladies and gentlemen, Five "Ugly" Songs of Country Music! Please to enjoy!

Country music legends Loretta Lynn and Conway Twitty team up here to sing "You're The Reason Our Kids Are Ugly." That the White Stripes didn't cover this is a massive disappointment. It needs to be resurrected!

The Maddox Brothers and Rose just are not pulling any punches here in advocating a girl who is "Ugly and Slouchy." This is a sentiment-companion to the infamous "If You Want To Be Happy For The Rest Of Your Life."

Kris Kristofferson wrote "I Hate Your Ugly Face" when he was only 11 years old. Here he is performing it quite a few years later. Brilliance, young sir, brilliance.

Bobby Bare slides an old joke into some generic country-pop and calls it a hit: "I Never Went To Bed With An Ugly Woman." That's not all he slid an "old joke" into, HA HA.

And finally, George Jones and Johnny Paycheck own their own less-than-movie-star looks with 1980's "When You're Ugly Like Us (You Naturally Got To Be Cool)." And rich, guys... don't forget rich!

WOULD YOU MISS ME?

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 21:13:00 +0000

Today, this is the question that is being asked, where the "me" in question ranges from internet giants like Google, Wikipedia, and Reddit all the way to...Popthomology, which as we know is just actually me.

Would you miss me, or them, or almost any internet site you may visit on a regular basis if someday you logged in, expected to search for info or watch a video or listen to a cover song made on Garage Band by some mom and her kid and saw something like this instead?

If the Stop Online Piracy Act and Protect Intellectual Property Act currently being discussed in Congress pass into United States law, your Internet will not be your Internet anymore; it will belong solely to the U.S. government and Big Entertainment corporation lawyers. No warning, no recourse, no recovery. Sites would just be gone. We already have legislation in place to combat Internet piracy, so ask again: why are the backers of SOPA/PIPA throwing millions at our government representatives in order to sway them to vote for these bills? Make no mistake about what the endgame is here: more corporate control infiltrating our government, and a very heavy hand on the throat of free speech and the First Amendment, in the cruel guise of protecting art.

Please take a moment to watch this video from Fight For The Future.org, which explains the issue further in a nicely-viewable way.

And you have to know something is REALLY bad if even Hitler is against it.

Just a heads-up: if SOPA/PIPA pass, both of the videos I've just posted could be removed, Popthomology shut down, and YouTube and Vimeo held criminally responsible for hosting them. Not a joke, and not unlikely.

So today is the day where you take the time to write your Congressional representatives and tell them that SOPA/PIPA must not be allowed into law. If you are an artist, you might like to sign this form; everyone else can use this link.

Would you miss me? Would you miss us, and the Internet as a place of free expression and information? Would you wish you had done something before it was too late?

THANK YOU, WISCONSIN

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 02:20:00 +0000

Dear Wisconsin,

Today is an Official Day of Thanks for me. My deepest gratitude goes towards the over one million citizens of Wisconsin who signed petitions in support of recalling Governor Scott Walker. In a state with only 5.6 million residents, 25% of whom are under 18, getting this amount of signatures in such a short time is a stunning political achievement. It's historic, unprecedented in American recall history.

Over one million people, in these jaded, apathetic times where hope is sometimes very hard to come by, decided that they were going to fight back, clean and legal. Over one million people sent the message that any Governor who claims to represent Wisconsin must represent all of Wisconsin. Over one million people believe that Wisconsin is not going to be a state that is bought up and run by billionaire businessmen as a solely-for-their-profit enterprise.

Over one million people still believe that each one of us has value, and we deserve a voice in our futures.

So, I thank...

...the everyday people who took the time to stand out in the freezing winter weather, day after day even over the holidays, to gather signatures.

...the everyday people who went door-to-door, took the time to speak thoughtfully and civilly with people about the issues surrounding Walker's actions, inactions, and agendas, and about why they are so harmful to the state and our country.

...politicians like Kelda Helen Roys, Chris Larson, and Peter Barca, who despite being completely shut out from being able to represent their constituents, never gave up, and served to inspire people all over the country and the world with their tenacity and guts in speaking out against political corruption.

...all the people who signed: the Democrats, the Republicans, the Independents, the 18-year-old first-time voter, the 100-year-old who has voted in every election...every single one of you who stopped what you were doing when you could have kept on going and signed the petitions, all while being carpet-bombed by pro-Walker commercials and ads paid for from unlimited corporate coffers.

All of you are my heroes today, as I see those everyday people haul in box after box after box of signatures to be verified and counted. Amazing.

Today we celebrate. And tomorrow we must keep fighting. Walker and his backers will go down ugly, count on it, and will throw every possible roadblock, dirty trick, and disinformation to try to remain in power. Keep talking, keep giving out facts over lies, keep cool, keep focused. Wisconsin, you are more important than you could ever know.

With love, your Milwaukee-born friend,

Marianne

GOLDEN GLOBES 2012: MY TOTALLY UNQUALIFIED LIKES & DISLIKES

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Mon, 16 Jan 2012 22:03:00 +0000

It's true: I devote almost none of my time to television or movies. I don't say this as some kind of a brag, which would be silly and potentially obnoxious as it can be when you are talking to a guy about that seething undercurrent of jealousy between Mary Ann and Ginger on "Gilligan's Island," and he says drily, "I've never seen that show. We didn't have a TV; we read the classics and played lacrosse." Get outta here, Mitt. Anyway, I suppose the bottom line is that most days I like to DO and MAKE things more than WATCH things, and it just takes a certain amount of time each day to locate screaming goat YouTubes and make hacky political Photoshops for this blog. You understand.

So, with that in mind, why did I choose to watch the Golden Globes broadcast last night when I saw only TWO of the nominated films and exactly NONE of the television series last year, and I just LOATHE pompous, over-long awards shows? Well, duh...to watch host Ricky Gervais! He's very funny, smart, and completely untrustworthy, which are qualities I really like in an entertainer. Wisely, I put the show onto my DVR to lessen the pain of commercials and 1000 cuts to faces of bored Botoxed celebs in the audience.

Therefore, with little relevant artistic content rattling around in my head to confuse me, I bring you my brief list of likes and dislikes from the show. (All photos/video courtesy Golden Globes)

LIKE: Ricky Gervais. He was indeed smart and funny, and really too smart and funny for that show, which made it all enjoyably awkward. I only wish he would've done MORE. If you are not getting drinks thrown at you or if you are not removed from the show during the show, you do need to work harder.

DISLIKE: Ricky Gervais' shiny red suit. Unflattering and odd. I could change this to a "LIKE" if he wore it just to piss people off.

LIKE: That one of the two movies I saw, "The Artist," won a bunch of stuff.

DISLIKE: Bringing on the cute but extremely-hyper Jack Russell Terrier who also starred in "The Artist" took attention away from the sincere guy who was trying to say a nice acceptance speech about his dad and stuff.

LIKE: Tina Fey photobombing Amy Poehler's nominee close-up.

DISLIKE: The horrible, horrible, horrible and obvious orange spray tans. Rob Lowe's was especially hilarious as he stood next to fellow presenter and very pale person, Julianne Moore.

LIKE: Morgan Freeman's acceptance speech, by far the best of the night, was funny, sweet, humble, reflective, and perfectly delivered and timed.

DISLIKE: Madonna. Just every single thing there would be to dislike about a person is there for me. Pathetic Euro Trash accent? Check. Revolting gristle arms (someone on Twitter called them "snow crab arms," HA HA HA) and creepy plastic surgery? Check. Overtalking? Check. Desperately unfunny and clumsy attempt to zing Gervais? Check. Smug, gargantuan ego-drenched acceptance speech, which mentioned "MY song" and "MY movie" about a zillion times? Oh, check. As it has been since the first day I saw her writhe around on MTV with her ho gear with a voice best suited for not singing anything EVER, I wait for the day she explodes into tiny pieces of carbon and silicone from her own prodigious methane output.

LIKE: Miss Golden Globes, Andie McDowell's daughter, was lovely and adorable, which is not unreasonable as her parents were both supermodels.

DISLIKE: Zooey Deschanel's overly-adorable mugging during her nominee close-up. There is a shelf life of "Hello Kitty" cutesy, and in another five or ten years, it's going to look like Bette Davis in "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?" Which, of course, would be STONE COLD AWESOMELY AWFUL.

LIKE: Jean Dujardin's smile. Oh my goodness. HiiIIIIIiiiiiIIIIIIiiiiIIII.

DISLIKE: The questionable facial hair grooming of several of the guys. Too metrosexual (Bradley Cooper) or too Charles Manson (Jeremy Irons), and I so hope William H. Macy's 'stache is for an acting role.

LIKE: The way Helen Mirren, Jodie Foster, and Meryl Streep improve with age.

DISLIKE: That Kate Beckinsale didn't go for the comedy when Seth Rogan cracked that he had a boner. She totally should have reached over and done a 2-second package check and reported back.

LIKE: Winner Woody Allen, for not attending.

DISLIKE: The Beverly Hilton Hotel. The room looked like it hadn't been updated since 1976. Also, smashing all the tables together so that it was difficult for winners to get to the stage to accept their awards made was lame.

LIKE: Winner Martin Scorsese, for attending.

DISLIKE: Elton John, who is looking (even more) like a sour-faced Poodle groomer these days.

LIKE: Matt LeBlanc, for not dying his hair. Guys, don't dye your hair. It rarely looks better and/or real.

DISLIKE: George Clooney finding it necessary to let us know how awesome his good pal Brad Pitt is.

LIKE: Christopher Plummer thanking his beautiful wife in a poetic and romantic way, causing the calloused Hollywood folk to actually audibly swoon.

DISLIKE: Jessica Lange's dress, which served to highlight all the things one doesn't want highlighted. See Jane Fonda for how to totally rock an evening gown in your dotage.

LIKE: Winner Octavia Spencer's beautiful lavender dress and wickedly-sharp up-do.

DISLIKE: Angelina Jolie's all-too-spooky Vampira Skeletor look.

LIKE: That the show convinced me that I should at least see at least a couple more of the movies, and go see "The Artist" a second time just to sigh over Jean Dujardin again.

DISLIKE: That Jean Dujardin is married, dammit.

PHOTOS: SUNDAY SNOW DAY

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 23:01:00 +0000

As someone who grew up in the Midwest, I am rather charmed by the giddy reactions from Miss Nine and our dog Ellie to today's rare Seattle snow. Please to enjoy, too.

VIDEO: "THE KIDS ARE DEAD" BY THE PERFORMA-CHORDS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sun, 15 Jan 2012 07:17:00 +0000

Another song pulled from the cassette tape vaults from our beloved garage punk heroes, The Performa-Chords. "The Kids Are Dead" is from 1981, and features Kevin on guitar, Dena on vocals and spontaneous lyric-making-upping, and -- *cough* -- some teenage goofball on Performa-Chord organ. Downloadable HERE for absolutely no money or other item of trade or barter value! Please to enjoy!

Lyrics:

Don't give me such a hard time
'Cause baby, all I ever do is try
I go to work at the factory
And you're never home waitin' for me

Is this what I live for?
I come home and I walk through the door
And the house is empty and the kids are dead
Oh baby, it hurts my head

Ouch!
Ouch!
Oh it hurts!
Gimme pain
I want pain
'Cause I'm Iggy Pop and I cut myself up

Oh baby.

"The Kids Are Dead," The Performa-Chords

MARGARET CHO VS. THE INTERNET

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 04:06:00 +0000

I've been thinking quite a bit about an article my friend Joe forwarded on Facebook today, which is always a sign to me that there is something more to explore or be expressed, at least in my little grindy-clicky head. Go ahead and click HERE to read this explosive piece by comedian Margaret Cho about some Twitter bullies she encountered, and be forewarned: there's nothing funny about it. I'll wait.

OK? A bit of a tough read, right? I'm left with conflicting feelings, though, and this is why: in imagining that she was speaking up for herself and every other spat-upon woman in the world, fighting back rather than backing off, shaming and chastising and threatening those in the wrong, she gave the bullies exactly what they wanted, and therefore, the 100% decisive win and enabled them even more to continue their cruel behaviors.

You have to understand what drives the bully, the meanie, the shitbird, in order to understand what I've said. What is it that they want when they take the time to slam someone viciously (and almost always anonymously) on the internet?

A MOMENTARY FEELING OF STRENGTH AND POWER FUELED BY THEIR ABILITY TO GET THE VICTIM UPSET.

Do not discount in any way what a huge and common motivator this is for people, and a lot of them, and not just Basement Boy Troll Losers. It could be just as likely that Cho's detractors are female, or have prestigious, respected jobs, or 3.5 angelic kids, or go to church every Sunday, and you might likely never have a single clue of how they really spend their time on the 'net. Let us also agree: bullies are as old as mankind; hell, there's even animal bullies. Whether it's fair or not, whether it's right or not, it doesn't really matter. You could form some kind of pink sweet cotton candy bubble society where all babies are raised with nothing but praise and compassion and THERE WOULD STILL BE BULLIES. All of nature runs on hierarchies, and some of those are pretty horrific and cruel, and some people are not going to have as good a run here as others. There will be kind people that come from the most desperate abusive situations and there will be sociopaths who arise from supportive and loving homes. This is reality. The bully will always be with us, even more now with the internet firmly in place as a place of vastly open, primary communication.

So now what? We are still left with a mess. Let's divide this one into three parts.

1.Just because we can't remove cruelty from humanity doesn't mean we shouldn't strive to make things better. First and foremost, we have to be accountable for ourselves. What might seem like casual ball-busting fun to you might really be hurtful to another. I'm not saying you should censor everything you say and do, but at least resolve to be more aware. Be the change, etc., and your actions are seen and multiplied, especially by your kids. And parents, boyfriends, girlfriends, spouses...maybe dip into the deep end into your loved one's online activities every so often, especially if you see "real life" emotional changes or secretive behaviors. You might be hosting a bully, and that's something you better deal with.

2. Bullies? We already know that you have problems. People who feel good and secure don't have this need to tear other people down. Understand this: your own personal issues and considerable weakness is laid out bare to the bone each and every time you attack someone else unprovoked, even though you think the complete opposite. If you keep at it and ramp up to making threats that are serious and credible, you can be located by law enforcement within seconds, even if you use a proxy. Internet privacy? You don't have it either, pal. I don't have to tell you that your shitbirding isn't very satisfying in the end. It's up to you to decide if your life has any value above that.

3. Margaret Cho, I am very sorry that you had such deeply traumatic things happen to you in your life. Cruelty against children is heinous and unforgivable, and I am sad that you suffered so much, and continue to feel such searing, fresh pain.

I am also going to tell you some other stuff.

You are a grown, independent woman in your 40s. You have built a career millions would be thrilled to have. You are an attractive person, with a sharp wit and intellect. And you are going to literally kill yourself if you refuse to acknowledge that your unchecked anger is unproductive, a waste of energy, and actively harmful to your mind and body. Your rant in this case doesn't shame the bully; it strengthens him. It's exciting to see some famous woman lose her shit; he could care less that you are upset! He'll be more likely to do it again and again and again to other women because the payoff was so sweet: an article written about him! Win!

Think smart. There's healthy acceptance of your looks and then there's posting pictures of a massive tattoo on your ass. Why choose this? What response did YOU hope for? There isn't a person alive, man or woman, ugly or gorgeous, who is going to have EVERYONE LOVE THEIR ASS ON THE INTERNET. If you KNOW you are prone to rage over any kind of criticism about your appearance -- even an insult that is a slight 140 characters in length -- it's not wise to set yourself up for it. Save the tat butt shots for the people who love you in your private life -- NOT THE INTERNET. This may not be what you want, but it's what is. What is the need here you are trying to fill?

You claim you are hard and don't care, and that you accept yourself and are finally free. These are lies. You care a great deal, and if you truly and genuinely accepted yourself as worthy and beautiful, there are no outside criticisms -- especially from faceless strangers -- that could seriously shake that. Someone calling you "ugly" would hold no more weight than "you have purple skin and are from Mars." If something is known to you as absolute truth, some shitbird throwing a pile of words that do not resonante with you shouldn't matter past the hurt of someone attempting to make you feel bad. I cannot overstate this. When you really believe in your own worth, you own your power, and you are not going to continue giving it away to anyone who doesn't happen to like you. WHY CARE WHAT CRAPPY PEOPLE THINK ABOUT YOU? WHY? There is no gain. You don't WANT THEM. And you think any of your nasty words mean A THING to them? They don't, because they are not invested in your opinion. You cannot hurt someone who simply doesn't care. They just get off further on your flailing and attempts to strike back. I assume this is the opposite of what you intended to provoke.

If you want to help others that have suffered as you have, that is admirable, but you aren't ready. You can gather those who have been victimized and have a frothing anger fest or a weepy pity party, but you cannot tell people that they are loved, beautiful, and wonderful when you cannot at all truthfully claim you've given the same gifts to yourself.

If you feel good about yourself, you aren't jealous of others who had or have love and kindness.

If you feel good about yourself, you don't burn with the need to wound or get revenge (see related above: Bullies).

If you feel good about yourself, you don't drag the painful ghosts of your past along with you until your dying day, blaming everything bad about your life on them, excusing you from your responsibility to move on and make a good life from all that you do have. I'm not at all saying you have to forgive your tormentors; in fact, I think it's a damn good thing to remember those who have done you wrong and never give them a chance to do it again. But stop giving them yourself on a plate forever. Move on, ditch the crushing, ruinous weight of bitterness and don't look back.

It's ain't easy, folks. It ain't easy.

GOATS #16

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 04:29:00 +0000

There is no reason whatsoever to not enjoy more loud goat videos. I find them quite therapeutic.

What I really love about this one is that the scene is like a family gathering. The little one is nonstop whining, the boys are fighting, and the old cock? Implacable, deaf, and/or possibly dead.

Loud Pygmy Is Loud

What's better than the sound of goats? Donkeys and goats!

Donkey and Goats

AAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAHH! The kid on this video thinks this is great, and he's right.

Silly Goat

The girls video-ing ask if this goat is trying to throw up. If he did, with every one of his loud screams, and the goat vom projectiled out onto the fairgoers, I can't say that I would be displeased at all.

Oscar The Goat

This is Bit. He's a JERK! HAHAHAHA! Holy crap! HAAAA!

Screaming Goat

The person who uploaded this claims the noise this goat makes "sounds like a gay person." Now, I'm not down with stereotypes, but I will say this goat does remind me a bit of Rip Taylor. It just does.

Gay Goat?

And finally...The Man Yelling Like A Goat Yelling Like A Man!!! YES!

YOU'LL NEVER BE BEAUTIFUL IN THIS TOWN AGAIN: LANA DEL REY

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 06:04:00 +0000

Breakout indie singer-songwriter Lana Del Rey has been on my mind for a few months, as one of the most talked-about and polarizing new artists of 2011. I had heard her track "Video Games" before I knew a thing about her, and it caught my ear with vocals that are both sultry and shaky, old and young, cigarette-dirty and breeze-soar-y. Do I like her music? I think so. I think so. I know for sure I am intrigued, and look forward to her album release this year. But even more fascinating to me is the public's reaction to her, over the things I didn't know from just listening to her songs on the radio.

Miss Del Rey, born Elizabeth Grant in 1986, comes from a wealthy family and --- AND!! -- has actual supermodel good looks.

And this is why, past her music, there are guys professing crazy stalker-worthy eternal love for her on the internet, and the same number slamming her for being a manufactured talentless Rich Daddy fake. And it bugs me. A lot. The point of music is music, yes? Yet because she has what she has -- born with it, in fact -- she may never be taken seriously by those who equate beauty with vapidness or money with inevitable corruption. If she looked more like me, the average rock girl shlub in overpriced glasses and dirty Chucks, what would have happened to her music? Would anyone have paid attention, or would she have been more accepted, less criticized? If you look like that, you can't do anything to make yourself look a whole lot worse to appeal to haters unless you go on a prolonged meth binge, so you might as well work it, right? Why aren't women ever allowed to be everything that they are?

It's easy for me in my lofty postion over here on the Age Ladder to pat Lana on the shoulder and say, "Just you never mind any of 'em, girl, just do your thing." But I was once 25 and new, too, and I know those words would fall on deaf ears. She's going to have to struggle though her work and everything else about her being really popular as well as brutally trashed, and through the growing pains of working out live performance. I think she's taken ultimately poor managerial advice in not being part of a band, for the genuine support and collaboration of like-minded musicians can go a long way in calming nerves and building confidence. Mr. Manager knows he has a Hot Solo Artist to market, but if she cannot deal with everything that has happened and everything to come, he won't have an artist to market for long.

Again, on the radio, I heard her sing, this time live. And in the background, during a quiet part, the voice of a female crowd member yelling, with prolonged venom: "Fuck yoooooooooou!"

Lana Del Rey, "Video Games"

MEET THE 2012 GOP VOTERS

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 05:46:00 +0000

FURTHER ADVENTURES IN COMMENTS BY MISS NINE

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 01:00:00 +0000

(Ladies and gentlemen, the Comments of MissNine, within a 10 minute period this afternoon.)

MissNine: Mom, do you know what my two favorite things are?

Me: No, what?

MissNine: You, and cheese and pickles!

Me: That's three things!

MissNine: You expect me to get rid of pickles??

********************

Me: I'm sooooo excited! Elvis Costello is coming to the Paramount in April!

MissNine: Isn't he really old?

Me: I think he's a few years older than I am.

MissNine: (drily) Well, I hope he doesn't have a stroke onstage or anything.

*******************

MissNine: (looking at today's mail) Mom! Look! The boat sent you a postcard from the Bahamas!

Me: What?? Oh, cool! (Bruise Cruise, which I am VERY excitedly covering in February, sent a funny postcard.)

MissNine: That's one smart boat. It also has very girly handwriting.

SONG: "MY SAD" BY NONEXISTENT SADWAVE BAND, ETERNITY COWL

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 05:59:00 +0000

So, my friend who is a knitter said she was making an "eternity cowl" and I said wow, that would be a great name for a miserable emo '80s synth band, and she said, wow, you should write a song for Eternity Cowl, and I said OK I will. The End.

My Sad by Eternity Cowl (from their debut album, I'm Really Sad on Waaah Records)

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Is sadder than yours

My eyeliner is blacker

Than the blackness

Of my heart

My sadness and blackness

Is like

A really sad

Black

Something

Yeah

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Is sadder than yours

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Never ends

My sadness

Never ends.

My Sad (by Eternity Cowl) by MarianneSp

THE PRESIDENT AND THE FENCE

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 05:02:00 +0000

Like many Americans, I think a great deal about our political climate here and the upcoming Presidential election. Unlike even more Americans, I am not doing that while watching some sort of television program featuring a Kardashian, a boorish and dimwitted New Jersey resident, or an attractive vampire. Maybe I should try that, for at least it would be a separate and numbing distraction to the increasing anger and frustation I feel about the governmental leadership that is failing us all.

The clown parade that makes up the GOP Presidential candidates this year would be humorous, if they didn't actually represent a decent chunk of American beliefs, which seem to be anti-gay, anti-black, anti-Mexican, anti-Muslim, anti-atheist, anti-anything-but-fundamentalist/evangelical/Mormon-Christian beliefs, anti-worker, anti-union, anti-intellectual, anti-education, anti-health care...on and on and on and on unti you GET WITH THE PROGRAM, which is of course My Way Or The Highway. To a man (and one freaky woman) they hold that Big Business holds all the answers to our problems -- our national saviors, the job creators, the Benevolent Kings! But if you believe that, you're on their payroll or living in some kind of American Dream fairytale white picket fence advertising campaign. If money and hateful discrimination are your real gods, vote Republican!

And now let's check out the other side. Why did Barack Obama win last time? Because George W. Bush was that bad, and a lot of people wanted to see someone very different come in to clean up the mess. It wasn't because Obama had scads of experience, because he didn't. He won despite the fact that he is half-black in a country that is still openly racist, has a name that is poison here in post-911 times, and was well-spoken and intelligent. Yes, that latter assertion was typed correctly; most Americans now prefer their leaders not to appear in any way "elitist" or "uppity" because it makes them feel more stupid than they are already. So, the smart "black" guy became President, running on a platform of "hope," which is always the last possible thing you can offer to the desperate, right?

Hope is so cruel. Of course, America wasn't going to stand for having a "black socialist librul" in house! The far-right extremists organized, backed by enormous amounts of corporate money, and did a fine job of pulling moderate conservatives to their side, wreaking total havoc on Obama's ability to change anything. They threw up roadblock after roadblock, nearly causing the complete shutdown of our government. There were wins for Obama, definite and large, but will his presidency be defined by them? I doubt it. Why? Because in trying to achieve his goals, he was convinced that he'd be the bigger man and make compromises, sliding to the middle to meet some of these one-track loons somehow, and of course that only led to failure.

As it's been playing out, political moderates are the great losers in 2012 America. Obama's removal from office was Job #1 of the far-right; they were never, EVER going to work with him or compromise. And Obama's deafening silence on THE political topic of 2011 -- Occupy Wall Street, the devastating effect of the Supreme Court's Citizens United ruling, and the manufactured income disparity that is driving more people into poverty every day -- is simply astounding. He keeps thinking if he wants to get re-elected, he can't do or say anything to further antagonize the right? Gotta all work together?

WRONG. So so so so devastatingly, horribly WRONG.

By staying silent as peaceful, lawful American political protesters were repeatedly pepper-sprayed, beaten with clubs, assaulted with sound cannons, and shot with rubber bullets by our own police forces, he failed us. Wall Street bailouts? Failed us. And signing the National Defense Authorization Act? Unforgivable. Obama, by trying to play ball in DC and politically abandoning many of the core values he claimed to hold, has accomplished something pretty scary: he's alienated a great deal of the people who voted for him four years ago, and cannot count on them now. Some of them are taking a hard look at the GOP front-runners and are jumping on Ron Paul's anti-Middle-East wars stance...without bothering to check out his other dangerous ideas. Other Democratic-leaning people, in droves, just won't vote at all, which leaves a huge possibility that The Worst President Ever In Our History, worse than Dubya!!, could get elected by default.

If you live in deeply polemic times, you have no business mucking about in the middle. Think about it: sitting on a fence just makes people wobbly and unstable with a picket post up their asses. If you are being treated as the enemy, stop making nice. TAKE A GODDAMN STAND. COME OUT SWINGING. Stop. Letting. Us. Down.

Will I vote for Obama in 2012? Yes. And if he wins and continues his fence-sitting, weak-character ways? I will be the first in line to sandpaper that picket fence post to a gritty point. Count on it.

The Colbert Report
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A VERY BRIEF AUDIO OVERVIEW OF SCAT (NOT THE POOP KIND, THE JAZZ KIND)

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 06:36:00 +0000

Old Scat: (That Haunting Melody by Al Jolson, 1911)

New Scat: (AppScat by Nikki Yanofsky, 2010)

Red Scat: (Trololo by Edward Khil, 1976)

Blue Scat: (Scattin' the Blues by Spirits of Rhythm & Leo Watson, 1945)

Good Scat: (S'Wonderful by Ella Fitzgerald & Sammy Davis, Jr., 1964)

Bad Scat: (Folsom Prison Blues, Shooby Taylor scatting over the Johnny Cash recording, ??)

Bing Scat: (Some Of These Days by Bing Crosby, 1932)

Cab Scat: (The Scat Song by Cab Calloway, 1932)

THE WORK OF A JOB

noreply@blogger.com (Me) — Fri, 06 Jan 2012 01:17:00 +0000

(My dear son Mr13 is the sole member of the family who is not particularly into music or art. He likes creative stuff, sure, but he gets more into playing Minecraft and showing off his newly-gained paintball welt, which is just fine. Sometimes, out of nowhere, he comes up with some interesting insights.)

Mr13: Mom, have you ever done the work of a job but you didn't have the job?

Me: Well, hmm...what do you mean?

Mr13: Like you do things that help other people and it's hard work but you don't actually go to a job and get a bunch of money?

Me: Ha, I'm a parent!

Mr13: Ha ha! No, I mean like with your photos. You take photos of bands, but those bands didn't hire you to take photos of them, right?

Me: Right.

Mr13: Right. But you take the photos and they get published and the bands get all this cool free publicity, which helps them out a lot.

Me: (smiling) Yes.

Mr13: That's pretty nice, I think.

Me: Thank you, sweetie. I love what I do, even though it doesn't pay much.

Mr13: I know! You can tell.

MissNine: (interjecting) My hands are tight. I'm an artiste.

(Mr13 at the Flaming Lips, Puyallup Fair, 9/21/11)