Thursday, December 20, 2007
Bjork. Composer of New Lakota National Anthem?
The Lakota Nation have announced that all treaties with the US are null and void and that they will establish their own country over 5 former Midwestern states. Bjork has a new song called Declare Independence. Both items were linked to on Metafilter within the last 24 hours. LINK LINK. Dare we declare coincidence?
Monday, December 17, 2007
Jan Terri Superstar!
Today is a good day. I've been reunited with Jan Terri, and you know what? It feels so good. Back in the about 1996, my pal Quitty played these videos for me. I think he got the promo VHS because he was in charge of the distribution of independent music for K Records. I never thought I would see these again! Thank you Metafilter!
Phone Trips - Phreaker Audio from the Golden Age of Telephone Line Hijacking
Back in the day, a small but extremely diverse community of technophiles figured out how to hack into the worlds's network of pay phones in order to talk for free and hold international chat conferences. They were the original hackers and there stories are incredible. From Viet Nam vet, Captain Crunch's exploits with a cereal premium, to born blind, Joe Engressia - a.k.a "The Whistler" later Joy Bubbles, who telephonecast his platform of Eternal Childhood Spirituality daily, and a couple of guys named Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak. Interested in Phone Phreaking or not, these clicks, clacks and conversations are great background music to a day's typing at the computer.Recordings of these pioneers' phone trips have been compiled HERE.
Jandek Radio Interview from 1985
Despite recently beginning to play live shows after 25 years in seclusion Jandek remains an enigma. Since his first album, recorded under the moniker The Units, He has self-recorded and pressed over 50 lps of unclassifiable music. This snippet of a 1985 interview conducted by John Trubee, author of the amazing song poem, Blind Man's Penis, is a treat. For the full interview, check out the documentary Jandek on Corwood. Download a Corwood Sampler HERE.
Friday, December 14, 2007
4Q Conditioning
Max Schaaf is responsible for some of the sweetest, no BS bobbed bikes on the road today. Case in point, this rake built for Scott Pommier. I'm a dumbass for not hitting Oakland this last weekend to see his bikes in person. But Hell, I've never claimed to be anything but.
Check Max out at 4Q Conditioning.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Give the gift of Natural History Curiosities
Sarina Brewer is back with great gifts for the holidays. For those of you not familiar with Sarina, she is Minneapolis' smoking-hot, rogue taxidermist. Her laboratory, Custom Creature Taxidermy, is a wonderland of Barnum-like proportions. From Coyote Paw Jewelry, to mutant suckling pigs your sure to find something for everyone on your gift list. No Shit. We're talking Capricorns, Frankensquirrels, Fiji Mermaids and Chimeras! Visit her shop on ebay for holiday specials.
Dear Santa, I've been very good this year. For Christmas, I would like two chicks as once.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Gee Your Beard Smells Terrific!
So I have a beard. I know it's a choice. But, damnit, I want to be able to eat a tuna melt or a burger slathered in BBQ sauce without having to smell it all day. I wash and scrub after every meal, but it still stinks. I just discovered that Gee Your Hair Smells Terrific! Shampoo is still on the market. Now if somebody could get me a few sample travel bottles of this amazing elixir, I'd be tickled pink.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Sonething for the Touts, the Nuns, the Grocery Clerks and you
we have everything and we have nothing
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
and some men do it in Palm Springs
laying it into butterblondes
with Cadillac souls
Cadillacs and butterflies
nothing and everything,
the face melting down to the last puff
in a cellar in Corpus Christi.
there's something for the touts, the nuns,
the grocery clerks and you . . .
something at 8 a.m., something in the library
something in the river,
everything and nothing.
in the slaughterhouse it comes running along
the ceiling on a hook, and you swing it --
one
two
three
and then you've got it, $200 worth of dead
meat, its bones against your bones
something and nothing.
it's always early enough to die and
it's always too late,
and the drill of blood in the basin white
it tells you nothing at all
and the gravediggers playing poker over
5 a.m. coffee, waiting for the grass
to dismiss the frost . . .
they tell you nothing at all.
we have everything and we have nothing --
days with glass edges and the impossible stink
of river moss -- worse than shit;
checkerboard days of moves and countermoves,
fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as
in victory; slow days like mules
humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed
up a road where a madman sits waiting among
bluejays and wrens netted in and sucked a flakey
grey.
good days too of wine and shouting, fights
in alleys, fat legs of women striving around
your bowels buried in moans,
the signs in bullrings like diamonds hollering
Mother Capri, violets coming out of the ground
telling you to forget the dead armies and the loves
that robbed you.
days when children say funny and brilliant things
like savages trying to send you a message through
their bodies while their bodies are still
alive enough to transmit and feel and run up
and down without locks and paychecks and
ideals and possessions and beetle-like
opinions.
days when you can cry all day long in
a green room with the door locked, days
when you can laugh at the breadman
because his legs are too long, days
of looking at hedges . . .
and nothing, and nothing, the days of
the bosses, yellow men
with bad breath and big feet, men
who look like frogs, hyenas, men who walk
as if melody had never been invented, men
who think it is intelligent to hire and fire and
profit, men with expensive wives they possess
like 60 acres of ground to be drilled
or shown-off or to be walled away from
the incompetent, men who'd kill you
because they're crazy and justify it because
it's the law, men who stand in front of
windows 30 feet wide and see nothing,
men with luxury yachts who can sail around
the world and yet never get out of their vest
pockets, men like snails, men like eels, men
like slugs, and not as good . . .
and nothing, getting your last paycheck
at a harbor, at a factory, at a hospital, at an
aircraft plant, at a penny arcade, at a
barbershop, at a job you didn't want
anyway.
income tax, sickness, servility, broken
arms, broken heads -- all the stuffing
come out like an old pillow.
we have everything and we have nothing.
some do it well enough for a while and
then give way. fame gets them or disgust
or age or lack of proper diet or ink
across the eyes or children in college
or new cars or broken backs while skiing
in Switzerland or new politics or new wives
or just natural change and decay --
the man you knew yesterday hooking
for ten rounds or drinking for three days and
three nights by the Sawtooth mountains now
just something under a sheet or a cross
or a stone or under an easy delusion,
or packing a bible or a golf bag or a
briefcase: how they go, how they go! -- all
the ones you thought would never go.
days like this. like your day today.
maybe the rain on the window trying to
get through to you. what do you see today?
what is it? where are you? the best
days are sometimes the first, sometimes
the middle and even sometimes the last.
the vacant lots are not bad, churches in
Europe on postcards are not bad. people in
wax museums frozen into their best sterility
are not bad, horrible but not bad. the
cannon, think of the cannon, and toast for
breakfast the coffee hot enough you
know your tongue is still there, three
geraniums outside a window, trying to be
red and trying to be pink and trying to be
geraniums, no wonder sometimes the women
cry, no wonder the mules don't want
to go up the hill. are you in a hotel room
in Detroit looking for a cigarette? one more
good day. a little bit of it. and as
the nurses come out of the building after
their shift, having had enough, eight nurses
with different names and different places
to go -- walking across the lawn, some of them
want cocoa and a paper, some of them want a
hot bath, some of them want a man, some
of them are hardly thinking at all. enough
and not enough. arcs and pilgrims, oranges
gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of
tissue paper.
in the most decent sometimes sun
there is the softsmoke feeling from urns
and the canned sound of old battleplanes
and if you go inside and run your finger
along the window ledge you'll find
dirt, maybe even earth.
and if you look out the window
there will be the day, and as you
get older you'll keep looking
keep looking
sucking your tongue in a little
ah ah no no maybe
some do it naturally
some obscenely
everywhere.
- Charles Bukowski
Hear him read it here>
and some men do it in churches
and some men do it by tearing butterflies
in half
and some men do it in Palm Springs
laying it into butterblondes
with Cadillac souls
Cadillacs and butterflies
nothing and everything,
the face melting down to the last puff
in a cellar in Corpus Christi.
there's something for the touts, the nuns,
the grocery clerks and you . . .
something at 8 a.m., something in the library
something in the river,
everything and nothing.
in the slaughterhouse it comes running along
the ceiling on a hook, and you swing it --
one
two
three
and then you've got it, $200 worth of dead
meat, its bones against your bones
something and nothing.
it's always early enough to die and
it's always too late,
and the drill of blood in the basin white
it tells you nothing at all
and the gravediggers playing poker over
5 a.m. coffee, waiting for the grass
to dismiss the frost . . .
they tell you nothing at all.
we have everything and we have nothing --
days with glass edges and the impossible stink
of river moss -- worse than shit;
checkerboard days of moves and countermoves,
fagged interest, with as much sense in defeat as
in victory; slow days like mules
humping it slagged and sullen and sun-glazed
up a road where a madman sits waiting among
bluejays and wrens netted in and sucked a flakey
grey.
good days too of wine and shouting, fights
in alleys, fat legs of women striving around
your bowels buried in moans,
the signs in bullrings like diamonds hollering
Mother Capri, violets coming out of the ground
telling you to forget the dead armies and the loves
that robbed you.
days when children say funny and brilliant things
like savages trying to send you a message through
their bodies while their bodies are still
alive enough to transmit and feel and run up
and down without locks and paychecks and
ideals and possessions and beetle-like
opinions.
days when you can cry all day long in
a green room with the door locked, days
when you can laugh at the breadman
because his legs are too long, days
of looking at hedges . . .
and nothing, and nothing, the days of
the bosses, yellow men
with bad breath and big feet, men
who look like frogs, hyenas, men who walk
as if melody had never been invented, men
who think it is intelligent to hire and fire and
profit, men with expensive wives they possess
like 60 acres of ground to be drilled
or shown-off or to be walled away from
the incompetent, men who'd kill you
because they're crazy and justify it because
it's the law, men who stand in front of
windows 30 feet wide and see nothing,
men with luxury yachts who can sail around
the world and yet never get out of their vest
pockets, men like snails, men like eels, men
like slugs, and not as good . . .
and nothing, getting your last paycheck
at a harbor, at a factory, at a hospital, at an
aircraft plant, at a penny arcade, at a
barbershop, at a job you didn't want
anyway.
income tax, sickness, servility, broken
arms, broken heads -- all the stuffing
come out like an old pillow.
we have everything and we have nothing.
some do it well enough for a while and
then give way. fame gets them or disgust
or age or lack of proper diet or ink
across the eyes or children in college
or new cars or broken backs while skiing
in Switzerland or new politics or new wives
or just natural change and decay --
the man you knew yesterday hooking
for ten rounds or drinking for three days and
three nights by the Sawtooth mountains now
just something under a sheet or a cross
or a stone or under an easy delusion,
or packing a bible or a golf bag or a
briefcase: how they go, how they go! -- all
the ones you thought would never go.
days like this. like your day today.
maybe the rain on the window trying to
get through to you. what do you see today?
what is it? where are you? the best
days are sometimes the first, sometimes
the middle and even sometimes the last.
the vacant lots are not bad, churches in
Europe on postcards are not bad. people in
wax museums frozen into their best sterility
are not bad, horrible but not bad. the
cannon, think of the cannon, and toast for
breakfast the coffee hot enough you
know your tongue is still there, three
geraniums outside a window, trying to be
red and trying to be pink and trying to be
geraniums, no wonder sometimes the women
cry, no wonder the mules don't want
to go up the hill. are you in a hotel room
in Detroit looking for a cigarette? one more
good day. a little bit of it. and as
the nurses come out of the building after
their shift, having had enough, eight nurses
with different names and different places
to go -- walking across the lawn, some of them
want cocoa and a paper, some of them want a
hot bath, some of them want a man, some
of them are hardly thinking at all. enough
and not enough. arcs and pilgrims, oranges
gutters, ferns, antibodies, boxes of
tissue paper.
in the most decent sometimes sun
there is the softsmoke feeling from urns
and the canned sound of old battleplanes
and if you go inside and run your finger
along the window ledge you'll find
dirt, maybe even earth.
and if you look out the window
there will be the day, and as you
get older you'll keep looking
keep looking
sucking your tongue in a little
ah ah no no maybe
some do it naturally
some obscenely
everywhere.
- Charles Bukowski
Hear him read it here>
Monday, November 26, 2007
Merrill Womack-Christian, Pilot, Burn victim, and a hell of a tenor!
I've been a big fan of Merrill Womack since my earliest crate-digging adventures in the early 90's. A basic overview: Womack created his own religious records by overdubbing his voice 40 times to create a full male choir. He would fly himself around the West Coast to sing and promote his records. One stormy night hiss plane went down and he suffered third degree burns over his entire body. He sand thorugh the ambulance ride and subsequent skin grafting sessions. He continued to record albums, run his own company, build a recording studio empire for many years after his accident. Admittedly, I bought the first album out of novelty, but after hearing him belt out his signature tune, "Happy Again", I found hope. Not through the Jesus, but through one mans perseverance and optimism. I hope that on this first-day-back-at-work-after-a-long-holiday-weekend he can provide you the same. And Thank you WFMU blog for this link!
Albert, TX (pop.4) Sold to the highest bidder
My pal, Brian sent me a notice this weekend that a small town in Texas was just sold on ebay for 3.8 million dollars to a non-disclosed Italian investor. Shame on you Albert, Texas. Or more truthfully, shame on you Bobby Cave, who turned a community into a commodity rather than plant his feet in some good earth, shaded by a 400 year old tree, and own a little piece of this earth that he could truly call his own. You can catch a glimpse of Mr. Cave in this little video.. Warning: The video is appropriately sponsored by Blackberry: The pacemaker of choice for American douchebags. He's the tool, I mean "project oriented guy" in the cashmere v-necked sweater being interviewed over a couple of Grey Goose gimlets in a posh fucking cougar hangout, probably in LA. Sorry if I seem a little bitter about this transaction, but this short sightedness that abounds in our civic planning and spoiled-child real estate market is really starting to bring me down. I'm sure Mr. Cave is no less despicable than the rest of the speculators out there who have helped move this country, it's people, and our relationships to the world and each other away from creating permanence and meaning. Thnaks Brian, and happy Monday! Long live the disposable commodity. CNN Link here.
Monday, November 12, 2007
39 Never reprinted Kirby monster comics
For those uninitiated, Jack Kirby was a legend in the comic book genre. He's responsible for creating many big name superheros. His brain also birthed a slew of monster comics that bent readers imaginations and furthered the plight of the everyman, in a fashion only found elsewhere in the episodes of Twilight Zone and The Outer Limits. Here, on Monster Blog, for the first time reprinted anywhere are 39 gems of Kirby magic. Enjoy. Thanks metafilter.
Wednesday, November 07, 2007
Bruce Conner Music Videos from the 80's
I've seen Bruce Conner referred to as a Beatnik filmmaker. I first saw his work when I came across the video he did for the Brian Eno / David Byrne album, My Life in The Bush of Ghosts. The album and book by Amos Tutuola from which the title was lifted, are an amazing blend of belief and technology. Conner's video pulled from aged electronic instructional films really connects the two, delivering a very analog view and feel. One can almost feel the devout milling about as the electronic particles are manipulated by currents.
And he did stuff for Devo. Everybody wins.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Remembering Porter Wagoner
Porter Wagoner has passed on after many years of service to the folks who love country music. He was known as Mr. Opry, The ambassador of Dollywood, and a fine singer songwriter. He was respected and covered by all the greats and The Byrds, Gram Parsons, amongst others. Thanks Porter. I've found alot of comfort in your songs, especially this one.
Dolly got it right.
Bigfoot is for real!
With all of the talk over the weekend about the recent jacobs photos of a juvenile bigfoot, I offer up this treat that proves that bigfoot exists, inside each and every one of us.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Mt. Holly Founder's Day Drive-Way-In Movies
Saturday, October 27th.
Directions: click here
It's that time of year again. Time to grab that special someone and cuddle up in the Mayor's driveway for a night of films. Bring a chair, a blanket, Y.O.B and dress warm.
Documentaries begin at 6:00.
6-7 Who is Boxo Texino?
7-8 Wild Wheels
8-9 Home Movie
9-10 Off the Record
10-? The worst Sasquatch films ever made.
Who is Bozo Texino? by Bill Daniel
Who is Bozo Texino? chronicles the search for the source of a ubiquitous and mythic rail graffiti-- a simple sketch of a character with an infinity-shaped hat and the scrawled moniker, "Bozo Texino"-- a drawing seen on railcars for over 80 years. Daniel's gritty black and white film uncovers a secret society and it's underground universe of hobo and railworker graffiti, and includes interviews with legendary boxcar artists, Coaltrain, Herby, Colossus of Roads, and The Rambler.
Wild Wheels by Harold Blank
This is a fascinating documentary about customized cars. I don't mean having flames painted on the side or those neon lights on the underside. Nope. We're talkin' full lawns growing on the cars, small multi-colored mirrors covering the chassis, and a number of other oddities that will make you seriously question the sanity of the cars' owners and the role of the automobile as a statement of individuality - in that order, as the film progresses. An excellent film.
Home Movie by Chris Smith
Chris Smith's documentary Home Movie offers several short portraits of real-life, far-out folks. This particular group of rule-breakers has in common the unusual dwellings they've chosen to call home. Meet the burly fellow with a Cajun accent living happily on a floating shack in Lousiana; the white-haired inventor in Illinois who's created a Jetsons-style electronic home; a Kansas couple who've turned a missile silo into a hippie haven; a California duo who give new meaning to the phrase Cat Fancy; and an aging cult film star who has retreated to a tree house in the jungles of Hawaii.
Off the Charts by Jamie Meltzer
For over 50 years, a small, strictly amateur music industry has thrived on the fine-print ads that appear in alternative newspapers and music-industry magazines, inviting would-be songsmiths to send in their lyrics (and perhaps even "earn royalties") when their songs--and we use that term loosely--are set to music, recorded by seasoned musicians, and returned to their creators as a kind of one-shot fantasy fulfillment of dreams that will never come true. What drives Meltzer's film is a uniquely American combination of pathos, fringe-dwelling ambition, and free expression by assorted misfits and "regular folk" who seek elusive immortality by turning their lyrical musings into trash-art that's simultaneously fascinating and pathetic. Off the Charts gives a memorable spin to the flipside of the American dream.
Directions: click here
It's that time of year again. Time to grab that special someone and cuddle up in the Mayor's driveway for a night of films. Bring a chair, a blanket, Y.O.B and dress warm.
Documentaries begin at 6:00.
6-7 Who is Boxo Texino?
7-8 Wild Wheels
8-9 Home Movie
9-10 Off the Record
10-? The worst Sasquatch films ever made.
Who is Bozo Texino? by Bill Daniel
Who is Bozo Texino? chronicles the search for the source of a ubiquitous and mythic rail graffiti-- a simple sketch of a character with an infinity-shaped hat and the scrawled moniker, "Bozo Texino"-- a drawing seen on railcars for over 80 years. Daniel's gritty black and white film uncovers a secret society and it's underground universe of hobo and railworker graffiti, and includes interviews with legendary boxcar artists, Coaltrain, Herby, Colossus of Roads, and The Rambler.
Wild Wheels by Harold Blank
This is a fascinating documentary about customized cars. I don't mean having flames painted on the side or those neon lights on the underside. Nope. We're talkin' full lawns growing on the cars, small multi-colored mirrors covering the chassis, and a number of other oddities that will make you seriously question the sanity of the cars' owners and the role of the automobile as a statement of individuality - in that order, as the film progresses. An excellent film.
Home Movie by Chris Smith
Chris Smith's documentary Home Movie offers several short portraits of real-life, far-out folks. This particular group of rule-breakers has in common the unusual dwellings they've chosen to call home. Meet the burly fellow with a Cajun accent living happily on a floating shack in Lousiana; the white-haired inventor in Illinois who's created a Jetsons-style electronic home; a Kansas couple who've turned a missile silo into a hippie haven; a California duo who give new meaning to the phrase Cat Fancy; and an aging cult film star who has retreated to a tree house in the jungles of Hawaii.
Off the Charts by Jamie Meltzer
For over 50 years, a small, strictly amateur music industry has thrived on the fine-print ads that appear in alternative newspapers and music-industry magazines, inviting would-be songsmiths to send in their lyrics (and perhaps even "earn royalties") when their songs--and we use that term loosely--are set to music, recorded by seasoned musicians, and returned to their creators as a kind of one-shot fantasy fulfillment of dreams that will never come true. What drives Meltzer's film is a uniquely American combination of pathos, fringe-dwelling ambition, and free expression by assorted misfits and "regular folk" who seek elusive immortality by turning their lyrical musings into trash-art that's simultaneously fascinating and pathetic. Off the Charts gives a memorable spin to the flipside of the American dream.
Happy Birthday
Brian Cox
Johnny Carson
Chi Chi Rodriguez
Charlie Foxx
Michael Crighton
Dwight Yoakam
Weird Al
Sam Raimi
Doug Flutie
Eliie Greenwich (writer)
Johnny Carson
Chi Chi Rodriguez
Charlie Foxx
Michael Crighton
Dwight Yoakam
Weird Al
Sam Raimi
Doug Flutie
Eliie Greenwich (writer)
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month
The folks at Film Threat have done a wonderful job at raising more than just awareness. As a recently converted boob man, I implore you to view all 50 (100?) of the greatest breasts in film history.
From Metafilter.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
The Sandwich Club
The sandwich must be altered from its natural state. Modifications to the sandwich must be obvious and should have no other purpose other than to prevent a smash. Foreign objects must be placed on top of the sandwich to constitute modification.
Modifications can not be tampered with by other players. Only an act of God, such as wind or earthquakes can remove a modification.
In the case of a sandwich cut in half, each piece must be modified. If the same object is covering both sides, that is OK.
Tampering with another players modification would break the Gentleman's Rule and would then result in a free double axe-handle smash.
*** A toothpick in a Club sandwich is not a modification. If you pulled the toothpick out and laid it on it's side, then it would be modified, as the tooth pick would have no practical purpose.
Don't click here: What is the Sandwich Club?
Rick Flair Finance - To be the man you have to beat the man.
If your looking for someone to help you grapple with your mortgage, he better be a limousine ridin', jet flyin', kiss stealin', wheelin' dealin' son of a gun. WOOOO!! That's right. The Nature Boy is in your corner. See what Ric's Figure-4 Process can do for you.
Thanks, metafilter.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
The Kingdom of Redonda
From Wikipedia:The history of the "Kingdom" of Redonda is shrouded in doubt and legend, and it is difficult to separate fact from fiction. According to one of several different versions of the story, Matthew Dowdy Shiell, a banker from Montserrat, claimed the island when his first son, Matthew Phipps Shiell, was born. Supposedly he felt he could legitimately do this, because it appeared to be the case that no country had officially claimed the islet as territory. Sheill senior also is said to have requested the title of King from Queen Victoria and as legend has it, she granted it to him as long as there was no revolt against colonial power. [1] However, the whole story appears to have originated decades years later with the son, known as M.P. Shiel, a fantasy and science fiction writer, and it is possible that some, or most, or possibly all of the story, may be pure invention.
In any case, again according to one version of the story, M.P. Shiel in later life gave the title, and the rights of his work, to the writer John Gawsworth, who seems to have sold the title several times, due to permanent bankruptcy. Gawsworth in turn is considered to have bestowed the title, and the rights to his and Shiel's work, to Jon Wynne-Tyson.
Tired of the problems of the kingdom, Wynne-Tyson supposedly resigned his title in 1997, when he decided to name Javier MarÃas as his successor (and bearer of the rights of the work of both Shiel and Gawsworth). Wynne-Tyson chose to do this because of the positive way in which MarÃas portrayed Gawsworth in his novel Todas las almas (published in English as All Souls).
Why do so many different people claim to be King of Redonda? Part of the incentive to be the recognized sole "King" of Redonda might be because of the rights to Gawsworth's literary sales, but a greater part of the appeal seems to be simply the lure of the fabled and ridiculous, and the joy of telling tall tales.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Electronic Labyrinth
Another busy day. Lots to report. First and foremost, the record-breaking time drought Mt. Holly is currently experiencing. Wish I had time to watch Lucas' award winning student film (the seed of THX 1138) this morning. The electronic chatter, the patina of outdated technology, the escape. Soothes my savage soul. Maybe tonight. MTH 1023, heading for the perimeter.
Friday, September 07, 2007
Porous Walker Interview at Fecal Face
Sorry, so busy the past couple days. Lots to post but no time. Check out one of my favorite new artists, Porous Walker. .
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
Tuesday, September 04, 2007
La Jetée:
This 1962 short film was the inspiration for terry Gilliam's 12 Monkeys. Stunning!
From Wikipedia:
"La Jetée ("The Jetty") is a 1962 28-minute black and white science fiction film by Chris Marker.
It tells the story of a post-nuclear war experiment in time travel by using a series of filmed, i.e., optically printed, photographs playing out as a photomontage of varying pace with no dialogue and a narration consisting of a voice-over. It contains only one brief shot originating on a motion-picture camera. The stills were taken with a Pentax 24x36 and the motion-picture segment was shot with a 35mm Arriflex.[1] The film score was composed by Trevor Duncan.
In French, "jetée" means pier. When air flight was first introduced, airplanes would taxi up to a concrete walkway build onto the runway that was at the level of the entryway to the plane. As planes changed over time, airports were forced to change to moveable walkways and staircases to accommodate ever increasing diversity.
The title is also a near-homophone of "there I was" ("là j'étais")."
Watch it here before it goes away.
Thank you, Linda, for telling me about this film.
From Wikipedia:
"La Jetée ("The Jetty") is a 1962 28-minute black and white science fiction film by Chris Marker.
It tells the story of a post-nuclear war experiment in time travel by using a series of filmed, i.e., optically printed, photographs playing out as a photomontage of varying pace with no dialogue and a narration consisting of a voice-over. It contains only one brief shot originating on a motion-picture camera. The stills were taken with a Pentax 24x36 and the motion-picture segment was shot with a 35mm Arriflex.[1] The film score was composed by Trevor Duncan.
In French, "jetée" means pier. When air flight was first introduced, airplanes would taxi up to a concrete walkway build onto the runway that was at the level of the entryway to the plane. As planes changed over time, airports were forced to change to moveable walkways and staircases to accommodate ever increasing diversity.
The title is also a near-homophone of "there I was" ("là j'étais")."
Watch it here before it goes away.
Thank you, Linda, for telling me about this film.
Mt. Holly on Viva & Jerry's Country Music Videos
Best State Fair ever! There I said it. Friday was an amazing day. Celebrity sightings were many. But the real highlight for me was being able to get a big thumbs up from Viva & Jerry of Viva & Jerry's Country Video fame. For those of you not from the Twin Cites Area. Viva & Jerry are local legends on Minnesota Cable access. For the past 10+ years they have brought great country music and joy to the airwaves. Keep your eyes open. They interviewed our fair city for an upcoming episode of their show. If you can't wait and need some Viva & Jerry now, Here's a taste:Monowi, Nebraska (pop. 1)
From February 15th 2005 The Times Online article by Tim Reid :"WHEN it comes to civic duty, few Americans can compete with Elsie Eiler. In Monowi, in northern Nebraska, she is the mayor, town clerk, town treasurer, town secretary, tavern keeper and chief librarian. When you are the sole resident of America’s smallest incorporated township — everybody else has either died or moved on — the competition for jobs is scarce.
Mrs Eiler, 71, whose husband died in 2001, halving Monowi’s population, runs the one business left in town, a low-slung roadside tavern. Last year she opened what has become the greatest source of pride for the town board — Mrs Eiler, that is — a tiny library, which was the dying wish of her husband, who was a farmer and an avid collector of books."
Read the entire article here
Mayor introduced to like-minded mayor. Alliance forged.
Likes:lounging in the apartment building hallway, going on the roof, sitting in window, playing with Moped
Pet-Peeves:
air freshener, the lid on the dry food tin, loud noises
Favorite Toy:
his own tail
Favorite Nap Spot:
in the loft
Favorite Food:
holistic wet food with gravy and homemade supplement powder topped with dry food pellets
Skills:
meowing slow and loud, staying in any position you mold him into
Dwells:
indoors
Feed The Mayor here.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Mt. Holly Communications Advisory Board Item 08.30.07 - THE END OF EMAIL:
In reaction to growing sadness, loneliness and outright despair resulting from the disposable and increasingly utilitarian nature of written conversation these days, the Mayor of Mt. Holly is requesting all text-based communication be directed to his office through the U.S. Postal System. Your voice is important, so much so that it deserves to be read in the soul bearing vehicle of your handwriting.
Haeg • 305 Holmes St S • Mt. Holly, MN 55379.
End of communication.
Haeg • 305 Holmes St S • Mt. Holly, MN 55379.
End of communication.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Moosylvania
In From the Urban Geek Dictionary:
"MOOSYLVANIA, an island adjacent to the United States, in the Lake of the Woods somewhere between that country and Canada, near to FROSTBITE FALLS, Minnesota.
Moosylvania is an uninhabited, undeveloped land. The precise boundaries and details of the area have yet to be determined, because the soft marshy ground swallows surveyors and their equipment whole. During warm periods the temperature in Moosylvania has risen to twenty degrees below zero. Summer on the island lasts from late September to the middle of October. As a consequence, most of Moosylvania is frozen for most of the year, and is underwater during the brief summer.
All travel in Moosylvania is by birchbark canoe, though the island has a ten-thousand foot airplane runway. Only 18% of that runway is on solid ground, however, meaning that all flights to Moosylvania inevitably sink into the water.
Moosylvania has been pleading for statehood since the time of the American Revolution in 1776. Since then Moosylvania became controlled by a hereditary series of governors belonging to the Moose family. The island has been fought over by the United States and Canada, with Canada twice refusing to accept the territory as a gift, even with Lake Superior thrown into the bargain. Most recently, in 1962 a petition for statehood was delivered to Washington, D.C. by the governor, Bullwinkle J. Moose. Moosylvania remains an unincorporated territory. The would-be state's motto is Don't Tread On Me, and the state flower is the Moosylvanian flytrap, the only plant known to belch. On one occassion Moosylvania nearly sank into the sea, but it was saved by throwing ballast off the island.
Aside from the Moosylvanian flytrap, the only life native to the island are gigantic mosquitoes that terrorize the island during its brief summer.
The Moose Call, the territory's only newspaper, was published in 1962, consisting mainly of comic strips. Milton Fugg of Upper Darby, Pennsylvania, is the Moosylvanian ambassador to the United States, a position he was granted when he mailed a self-addressed stamped envelope to Governor Moose.
The Moosylvania Territory is asking for 18 billion dollars and 4 cents in American aid, the four cents for the postage of the check. This would be for industrial development and the numerous planned civic improvements, and to build a highway that would enable people to drive through Moosylvania without stopping.
Moosylvania has no extradition treaties, taxes, traffic or laws. Travellers are advised that there are no other compelling reasons to visit to Moosylvania."
More on the struggle for Moosylvania statehood straight from Rocky & Bullwinkle creator, Bill Ward's mouth, here.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
World's Smallest Park
From the blog Futility Closet"The smallest park in the world is Mill Ends Park in Portland, Oregon. You're looking at it: 452 square inches, barely two feet across. The nearby Forest Park is 60 million times as big.
Mill Ends started in 1948, when Oregon Journal journalist Dick Fagan noticed a forgotten hole outside his office on Front Street. He planted flowers and began to write a weekly column about goings-on there, including "the only leprechaun colony west of Ireland."
When Fagan died in 1969, Portland took up the tradition, dedicating Mill Ends as an official city park in 1976. Today it has a swimming pool for butterflies (with diving board), a miniature Ferris wheel, and statues, and it hosts snail races, weddings, and regular rose plantings.
Just goes to show, you don't need a large lot if the location's good."
Thank you Linda.
Via Via Via
NEW! Boing Boing Personal Technology Blog
From boingboing.net - "While Boing Boing has always covered personal technology, the four of us (Cory, Davis, Xeni, and I) believed a critical, intelligent, optimistic, and selective blog about personal technology and consumer electronics would be a fine addition to Boing Boing. But who could we trust to oversee a tech blog that the four of us would want to read? Actually, it wasn't hard to find that person. We went straight to Joel Johnson, a former Gizmodo editor and founder of Dethroner. Joel is smart, funny, knowledgeable, and curious about technology. He was our first, and unanimous, choice to run Gadgets.boingboing.net. And we're grateful he agreed to come on board."
Hells Yes!
The Principality of Sealand clip from the 1960's
The Principality of Sealand was founded in 1967 upon an abandoned wartime gun tower 7 miles off the coast of out into the North Atlantic. Ray Essex (Prince Ray) has run radio and tv stations; issued passports, coinage and postage stamps from his principality while holding his ground amidst storms, coup attempts, a 2006 fire and failed data haven venture.Monday, August 27, 2007
On the Road: The Original Scroll
"Here I made and attempt to settle down those I love in a more or less permanent homestead from which all human operations could be conducted to the satisfaction of all parties concerned. I believe in a good home, in sane and sound living, in good food, good times, work, faith and hope. I have always believed in these things. It was with some amazement that I realized I was one of the few people in the world who really believed in these things without going around making a middleclass philosophy out of it."I've flipped through the 1957 publication of Kerouac's On the Road and haven't come across this passage. Maybe I've overlooked it. However, in reading that passage from the original scroll, published this last week by Viking Press, it hit me like a blunt object. Perhaps, it seems super-relevant because of where I'm at in my life – sick, tired, lonely, Mayor of Mt. Holly. Or perhaps its relevancy stems from the context.
The original scroll is a documentary of loneliness (where Kerouac exists even more detached from his saints and churns with a deeper longing for an inclusive answer to life). The relationships between husbands and wives are cold and selfish on a Bukowskian par. Intimacy is always fleeting, sometimes brutal. Life is suffering and selfish. Thieving is justified. The road is less glamorous, more a last ditch attempt at uncovering how far Kerouac, and each of us is from a life where our ideals make sense, nonetheless work. Lonely.
For those who've read On the Road before, put aside any academic or novelty preconceptions of this book. It is a whole new shitstorm of life, harder to take, forcing the realization that life is purest at it's worst. (FYI: For those looking to roll around and romanticize a beat lifestyle with the earnestness (and pocketbook) of mothers shopping at Target once a week, go ahead, it's your life, fuck it up. Forget about the meth-heads, neglected children, abused wives, and ever-lonely adulterous husbands who have for more to do with the essence of this book than your or my full-wallet-on-barstool-and-study-full-of-books ever will.)
For those who have not read On the Road before and are looking to pick it up in light of all of the 50th anniversary fanfare, read this version, but don't read it lightly. Don't look to this book as a beat novel. It was written before John Clellon Holmes' Go (considered the first beat novel) was published. It is raw and very human. The lyric of this book comes from a very pure and human experiment, unconcerned with fitting into a genre or to wax poetic. It is as urgent a novel as one will ever get the chance to read – and you should.
Shakopee Mayor on Mt. Holly Mayor (+ softcore porn)
From The August 13th edition of The Naughty American.
"Shakopee Mayor John Schmitt also doesn’t recognize Mount Holly as a real city, even though he has driven by Mike Haeg’s house numerous times on the way to his own City Hall.
But, for him, a sign out front reading, "Welcome to Mount Holly, pop. 4" does not a city make, and he describes Mount Holly as an imaginary city. "It really exists in the minds of those in the Haeg household," he said.
However, he doesn’t have a problem with Mount Holly’s existence. He noted, "It doesn’t affect [Shakopee] at all. There are no conflicts." . . .
Schmitt, who represents about 34,000 constituents, even offers a little neighborly advice for Haeg, saying, "As mayor, you’ve got a lot of people to deal with. You have to be flexible."
He also said not to get bogged down by negative feedback; to "take it with a grain of salt."
Proof: Nothing exciting ever happens in Winnipeg
Todd MacNamerra spent the entirety of his 10 block trip on Winnipeg's Provincial Transit Bus Route 17 shouting, "Holy Shit. This is unfucking believable! Oh my God, Oh my God!" It is still unknown what MacNamerra found most amazing:
1. It only costs a twoonie to get from his house to the Tim Horton's!
2. Bright colors of fiberglass seating!
3. 23 people in one car! 23 people in one car!
In other news, The White Stripes play on Winnepeg bus while MacNamerra loses his shit over the fact that his transfer also includes his trip home from Tim Horton's.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
7 Nights in the Entry
Last night was the debut of a killer documentary shining the spotlight on one week's worth of shows at Minneapolis's legendary 7th Street Entry, First Avenue's ugly kid brother. Early footage of Husker Du, The Replacements, Fine Art, The Dads, Things That Fall Down, Hypstrz, The Neglectors, Rusty Jones & The Generals, The Situation, Wilma & The Wilburs, Stagger Lee, Peer Group straight from the camera of Twin/Tone records founder Paul Stark. I missed Minneapolis in the early 80's and damnit if I didn't miss the premiere, last night. That;s why I went to look for some stuff to share today.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
Dave Zadra and Karl Bilda: Freak bikes
Any of you living in the Mt. Holly area are sure to recognize theses two garage goofs. The photos shown here are taken from a shoot for the Monster Nation program on the Discovery Channel. Dave on his Steam Bike and Karl on his Track Bike raced against The Rocketman's Rocket Bike for this episode. Karl passed away a few years back. I'm hoping to track down some of his amazing vehicles and to interview Dave in the upcoming weeks. Anyone reading this who can help with photos or the episode of Monster Nation these two were on. It would be much appreciated.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Urban Folklore from the Paperwork Empire
After reading this post on BoingBoing, I had to dig this book out of the Mt. Holly Public Library. Written and collected by Alan Dundes and Carl R. Pager, Urban Folklore from the Paperwork Empire is the definitive archive of chain letters, fuck-the-system mimeograph masterpieces, and off-color social commentary from the 20's through the mid 60's. Faux "my-husband-is-a-sex-maniac" letters to Ann Landers, The Italian Bomb Shelter, Charlie Brown's Allergy - they're all here. If YouTube videos are today's social collateral, this is a veritable Fort Knox of the pass-a-long gold from the days of yore, some of it, amazingly pertinent today. For example, the Rush Job Calendar, Perspectives on the Design of a Tree Swing, and the fold up Government Computer Cost Diagram. Click here for a high-res PDF.
New Foundlands: micro-nations, model countries, ephemeral states
Call them micro-nations, model countries, ephemeral states, or new country projects, the world is surprisingly full of entities that display all the trappings of established independent states, yet garner none of the respect. The Republic of Counani, Furstentum Castellania, Palmyra, the Hutt River Province, and the Empire of Randania may sound fantastical, but they are a far cry from authorial inventions, like C.S. Lewis’s Narnia or Swift’s Laputa. For while uncertain territories like the Realm of Redonda might not be locatable in your atlas, they do claim a very genuine existence in reality, maintaining geographical boundaries, flaunting governmental structures, and displaying the ultimate necessity for any new nation: flags. Admittedly they may be little more than loose threads on the patchwork of nations, but these micro-nations offer their founders a much sought-after prize—sovereignty. From the article New Foundlands by George Pendle. Cabinet Magazine Issue 18 Summer 2005. Read the entire article here.
Dick Proenneke, take me away.
As these days get fuller and fuller of "important business" I find myself returning to this video to sooth my overtaxed soul. Hard work, sure. Gratifying, I can only imagine.
"To live in a pristine land unchanged by man...
to roam a wilderness through which few other humans have passed...
to choose an idyllic site, cut trees and build a log cabin...
to be a self-sufficient craftsman, making what is needed from materials available...
to be not at odds with the world, but content with one's own thoughts and company...
Thousands have had such dreams, but Dick Proenneke lived them. He found a place, built a cabin, and stayed to become part of the country. This video "Alone in the Wilderness" is a simple account of the day-to-day explorations and activities he carried out alone, and the constant chain of nature's events that kept him company."
- Sam Keith
Monday, August 20, 2007
For Sale: Jersey Devil, Squirrel Scrotums, Cursed Rooster Head
Sarina Brewer is cleaning house and unloading her clutter on ebay. Only when a rogue taxidermist throws a garage sale, your bound to find more than discolored tupperware and baby clothes. Whether you are a Voodoo priestess, sideshow huckster, or cryptozoologist, your sure to find something you can't live without. Check out her auctions here.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Friday, August 17, 2007
The Burma Shave Signs- 80th Anniversary.
It's been 80 years since the Burma Shave Company erected the first Burma Shave signs along a stretch of Highway 61, here in Minnesota. The campaign grew to over 7000 signs during its 26 year life span. From the first pretty-straight-forward, non-rhyming slogan:
Shave the modern way
No brush
No lather
No rub-in
Big tube 35 cents drug stores
Burma-Shave
To the last in 1963:
Our fortune
Is your
Shaven face
It's our best
Advertising space
Burma-Shave
Burma Shave captured the American travelers attention and whim. Consumers flooded the company with their own submissions. Songs have been written and performed about these signs.
Read a bunch of them here.
Minnesota Rest Stop Safari
Back in the late 80's, Minnesota's man on the street took a ragtag crew on a quest to visit America's finest Highway Rest Area System. A champion of the clean, orderly and industrial, Dr. Sphincter, gives us a glimpse into janitorial engineering and the people and landmarks of our great Northwoods.
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
URGENT! Calling all Cream O' Mushroom soups!
I find it unfathomable that the Guinness Book of World Records Largest Potluck resides outside the borders of the great state of Minnesota. Apparently, I'm not the only one.On Saturday, August 25th in Montevideo Minnesota, The folks at the Stonebrook Jamboree will attempt to break the existing record by holding the worlds largest potluck.
Consider this an All Points Bulletin! MINNESOTANS! Fire up that crockpot! Garnish that Jello mold with carrots and call it a salad! Don't call it a casserole - IT'S A HOTDISH, GODDAMNIT! Most important, bring a little and eat a lot! For the sake of all lutheran church ladies, let's bring the honor to Minnesota soil!
Mt. Holly will be representing. We will also be collecting the best recipes for a celebratory cookbook. Hope to see you there!
Monday, August 13, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
Who is BNE?
It's been almost exactly a year since leaving my stint in SF. I miss the city for more than just the aesthetic, diversity and food. I miss it for the pure fucking chaos of it all. You never know what your going to walk into.Case in point. Leaving work at 2:00am. Walking home through Chinatown. Returning to work at 7:00 a.m. In that 5 hours, every possible taggable space in Chinatown has been plastered with stickers that say BNE. Thousands of stickers. It was like it had snowed.
Brought up the subject of BNE with some of my "more publicly creative" friends. Nothing. Nobody knows who BNE is. I stumbled across this article today that compounds the mystery. Japan, India, NYC. Could Mt. Holly be next?
Got any theories? I'd love to hear them.
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Man uses lifesize cutouts of his kids to slow down neighborhood traffic.
My buddy Matt Pruett sent me this article as a potential solution to Mt. Holly's growing speeding problem.
An Ohio man, fed up with people speeding through his neighborhood, propped up lifesize cutouts of his kids along the curb in his front yard to cause drivers to pay attention and slow down.
This little slice of home-brewed ingenuity and initiative has made my morning.
Watch the slideshow here.
Sunday, August 05, 2007
Strap on your leather chaps!
Can't make it to the 2007 Sturgis Motorcycle Rally? Well, hopefully we can get you closer. This year, instead of running electronic banners for Sturgis, Harley-Davidson is running live video of an actual physical banner from Sturgis. Keep your eyes open or Click Here to see examples.
If that's not enough for you, you can get exclusive content served up via the H–D Google Gadget.
And if that's still not enough for you, you can check out live flickr updates. Cerdo of the poster collective Squad 19 has set up a flickr account and is distributing it's log-in to the masses at Sturgis. That means, anyone can post anonymously! Sure to get interesting.
One things for sure, with video streaming, video blogging and flickr mobbing, this ain't your Grampa's Sturgis anymore.
Monday, July 30, 2007
HAMBURGER EARS
Holy shit this is epic! When Stephan said that Ray was going to put out an all music edition of Hamburger Eyes, I knew it would be great, but this has blown me away. Collected here are photos from more than the Burgerworld C.R.E.A.M. Team. The birth of punk & new wave through Jang's scope, D.C.'s Daniels, and grunge's Peterson, and Brooklyn's Powell. This book made me love shows again. Pick it up now. It won't be around long! Click here then click on ZINES to check it out.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
The Frogs - I'll do your dope. I'll be your dope man.
The Frogs' It's Only Right and Natural Lp was featured as a buried treasure in the most recent Mojo Magazine. You can listen to their entire output on their MySpace profile.From Wikipedia:
The Frogs began around brothers Jimmy Flemion and Dennis Flemion, guitarist and drummer respectively, who added bassist Jay Tiller in 1983. That same year, Jimmy began wearing what was to become his trademark stage gimmick, a pair of six-foot bat wings. Although in their early days, the Frogs played mostly in coffeehouses, they soon developed a larger following, due mostly to their fan-friendly shows. In 1988, the Frogs self-released their first album in limited quantities. In that same year, Brian Hill joined the group as bassist.
Meanwhile, a tape of the Frogs improvised home-made recordings reached Gerard Cosloy in 1989, then head of Homestead Records, who released a collection of 14 tracks under the title It's Only Right and Natural. A number of tracks on the LP dealt with homosexuality and sexual fetishes, often mixed with religious overtones. The label additionally announced that The Frogs were leaders in a new gay supremacy movement. The album was received with mixed reactions; listeners were generally ecstatic, although others, who either disliked the subject matter or misunderstood the concept, were not as enthusiastic. It's Only Right and Natural was even denounced by a number of conservative religious organizations as proof of Satan's control over the entertainment industry.Monday, July 02, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Aw, Nutz!
If you know me you know that I love squirrels. Unless, that is, they are stealing food from my fine feathered friends. I must admit that there are others out there whose affinity for rat-pigeons is greater than mine. One of these folks is the owner of Sugar Bush Squirrel - International Superstar and The World's Most Photographed Squirrel. The photo I've chosen here is a representation of JonBenet Ramsey. It was created with all seriousness. It is beautiful.
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Flavor Country 2.0
Smoking may be bad for you, but researchers and biotech companies are quietly developing pharmaceuticals that are decidedly good for brains, bowels, blood vessels and even immune systems -- and they're inspired by tobacco's deadly active ingredient: nicotine.Nicotine acts on the acetylcholine receptors in the brain, stimulating and regulating the release of a slew of brain chemicals, including seratonin, dopamine and norepinephrine. Not surprisingly, the first scientific work that identified these chemicals and how they affect the body came out of nicotine research -- much of it performed by tobacco companies.
Now drugs derived from nicotine and the research on nicotine receptors are in clinical trials for everything from helping to heal wounds, to depression, schizophrenia, Alzheimer's, Tourette Syndrome, ADHD, anger management and anxiety.
Read More
Thanks Wired!
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Bullitt - Car Chase Map
Utilizing Google's new My Maps tool I created this map of the locations and routes used in the world's greatest car chase. view the map
A special tip of the hat to Ray Smith who did all the legwork nailing down this route as well as some other great road trips - Link
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Monday, March 05, 2007
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Monday, February 05, 2007
Thursday, January 25, 2007
In My Language
The first part is in my "native language," and then the second part provides a translation, or at least an explanation. This is not a look-at-the-autie gawking freakshow as much as it is a statement about what gets considered thought, intelligence, personhood, language, and communication, and what does not.
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