03/23/05 4:46pm
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Dogleg
It's Rummy's first birthday today. Remember to spank him the next time you see him.
Joining the world of the Bologners, or Bloggers, or whatever is Captain James T. Kaylube of the starship Adoushabag. Ladies and gents, I present CBolt.org, home to various photo albums as well as The Dribble Cloth, his burgeoning online journal. We all know the only test of an online blatherer's longevity is the quality and frequency of their updates. He's a snap-happy guy with that camera of his, and he tends to visit some pretty interesting places, so there's going to be plenty of great pictures to look at even if you don't appreciate Stalin poetry. And if you don't, to hell with you anyway.
CORRECTION: In an entry dated 03/11/05 entitled "Galactic Bullshit," I referred to the third and final Star Wars prequel as "sure to be shit on." After deliberate review, I am revising my statement to read "probably still to be shit on, however, the preview looks fucking great."
CNNyone?
- Lowell Vs. Spidey - Thomas Haden Church, hmm. He seems too small for Electro. How about the Lizard? That might work.
- On The D.L. - I have to say I'm impressed with the reservation's tenacity at keeping the American media blitz at bay. The best part is watching the 24 hr news networks scramble for information, repeating the same little tidbits over and over again because they can't get any SWAT attack or sobby eyewitness footage. Here's the kid's Yahoo! Profile. Classic.
- A Little Eichmann Is A Very Serious Thing - Lil' Eichmanns: the best catchphrase since "mini-911." I looked up "embattled" in the dictionary and they already had a current photo of this douche.
- Who Was Himself of Jewish Descent - This seems pretty insane, but don't they do this kind of shit all the time? Isn't stacking the books the essence of jury selection?
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03/22/05 6:16pm
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40k Commissar #3
Time once again to geek out with my keek out.
When a hobby requires the expenditure of cash, or bones, or clams, or whatever you call them, it's natural to question the innate value of such a far removed pastime to one's brief existence in the corporeal. The importance of entertainment, be it film, music, art, whathaveyou, is one of those great "quality of life" issues - the development of rational thought has left us cursed, doomed to pour effort into feeding certain curious little neurons who seem to do little else but squeal for alternate reality. And to hell with the lot of them.
My conclusion is thus: rather than spend said dinero on the tons and tons of shitty movies that just seem to pour out of Hollywood like a fat dog's BM on a hot day, I can play a game that, while admittedly based in a single, defined fantasy universe, conveys epic scenes of struggle I can watch over and over again in my mind like little films. Say what you will about Games Workshop's commitment to robbing every science fiction property that ever was and you at the same time, I find the 40k universe to still be quite appealing in its subject and detail. More than fuckin' Sky Captain, anyway. The limited exposure I've had to Dawn of War and other licensed video games left me somewhat unsatisfied in terms of total imaginitive and strategic immersion, although I freely admit Dawn of War is ridiculously cool, and will doubtless be even moreso after the Imperial Guard expansion.
I like the slower pace of the tabletop game. It allows ample time for dastardly moustache-pulling, trash-talk between players, and maybe a little strategerie if the dice don't hate you (and they always do). Not only that - my math skills are finely-tuned, able to spot a wargear adding mistake from 100 yards, nay, 200 yards. And I can guesstimate a 24 inch range like nobody's uncle's business.
These are useless skills, really, but that's beside the point, because the real reward is satisfaction in getting good at something you enjoy, be it painting overpriced pewter miniatures or some good old-fashioned ice-fishing. Maybe I couldn't build a cabin, run a farm, or herd cattle, and I probably couldn't fillet up one of my wagon-mates in the middle of a freak blizzard, but honestly I don't give a shit. Who takes those rocky mountain passes anymore, anyway? Idiots, that's who.
I'm working on a new terrain set with craters, spike barriers, and bombed out modular road sections that hopefully will be done this century. Things are looking good so far, I'll take some pictures soon.
Here's two more games between me and my old lady, the inimitable Muckboot.
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03/20/05 4:13am
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SXSW 2005 II
Should I wait to write all this until my dangerously flat feet aren't totally killing me? I'll just try not to lash out too much (Editor's Note From The Future: I fuck that up pretty bad). After missing two or three target showcases it seemed necessary to hedge our bets and pick out and camp any show we really wanted to see. That was the idea, anyway, when we showed up three and a half hours early for the Spoon show at La Zona Rosa on Friday - got to set your shit up fast if you're going to squeeze past all the "coolhunters" and actually get any value out of this silly wristband.
Guitar Wolf was the first entire show I saw that night, basically consisting of three Japanese greasers in full Ramones regalia doing their level best to give me a goddamn headache and kill the cheap beer buzz I had left over from home. They were pretty hit and miss, layering a couple of honest gems in between the unabashed cacaphony of brain-rattling feedback that apparently makes up the majority of their catalog. Next were Robyn Hitchcock and later John Cale, two generic motherfuckers that I really don't remember all that much. My "Hottie Dog" and free Miller Lite glowstick were more interesting than either of these two characters. And what's more, a line never even formed in front of the venue and we could have easily seen any number of shows beforehand somewhere where it wasn't sucking. But finally Spoon took the stage and played a pretty mixed set of sharpshooters from the last four albums, including just enough of the new tunes to forgive the band's somewhat subdued performance. I guess it didn't help that the place was relatively empty. Apparently their secret Thursday gig was the "too cool for school" show and Friday sorta felt like a indiepop sympathy card for us festival B-teamers. I did manage to get a couple of SXSW '05 beer koozies that probably justified somewhere around 0.025% of the total cost of my festival attendance, and Spoon always puts on a good show in my book so I'll chalk Friday night up as a mild success.
Saturday night Wingman T bailed but I still managed to meet up with my brother and Mackus at Austin Music Hall to see (eventually) Erykah Badu. She was preceded by all kinds of softie hip-hop show shenanigans, including the apparently inevitable between-sets crowd involvement exercises. Over and over again with the "y'all can't have this next act until y'all make some nooooise." It was tired last year at Handsome Boy and it was just as tired this year. They were already running around an hour late when I showed up, and by the time Badu's sister Nayrock took the stage around 11, I was getting worried about how long the main attraction could possibly play. Nayrock (or Udab or whatever the fuck ever) started off well but in the end wasn't nearly as talented as her band, much less her sister. Strange Fruit Project came and went, don't remember much of that. After hearing the buzz around final warmer-up Jay Electronica, I thought it might be interesting, but it turned out to be somewhat flavorless and pretty much carried by Badu's amazing R&B band and backup singers, who stayed in position as she took the stage. I don't know where she got the chip on her shoulder that day (or on the entire Worldwide Underground album, for that matter), but it was clear she was mad about something and after a couple of jazzy intro numbers took the crowd for a ridealong through some tired "fuck the 5.0" back-and-forth that I guess I'm just too insulated to really understand. I'm talking about the struggle, you dig?
At this point I'll stop grumbling just long enough to make sure I clearly convey my enjoyment of Badu's set. I'm here to testify that she is that much more talented, soulful, and engaging in person, and the band and backup singers really helped her put on a great show. My fears about an abbreviated performance were put to rest as she seemed to mock the venue staff by playing and singing the first 45 seconds of several different songs, only to stop each one short with a wave of the hands and a "y'all know I can't end on that shit" before proceeding on to the next. The first two times it was a little funny, the third time a little forced, but the fourth time was annoying. Ah, whatever, it was great to see her on stage and I'll probably feel better about it in the morning.
SXSW was a little trying this year but I had a pretty good time for the most part. I doubt I'll go next year without a badge; it's just too hard to make the wristband pay off with all the competing interests and time conflicts. All of the main acts I've mentioned are worth seeing if you have the chance and desire, especially the Minibosses which played my favorite show of the festival, rocking Ikari Warriors and Mike Tyson's Punch Out like I suspect noone else can.
Good night, all you silly Ryan Adams wannabes with your permed down black shaggy hair, your dark brim trucker hats and dad's aviators. See you next year... or maybe not.
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03/18/05 11:19am
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SXSW 2005 I
Against my better judgement I sprang for a SXSW music wristband again this year, a decision made only after an Austin Music Hall Erykah Badu performance was announced for Saturday March 19. There were several other great bands, sure, but the shitty blue plastic Schlitterbahn bracelet don't come for free and it was hard deciding whether it wouldn't be cheaper just to see all the acts on later tours. But Erykah and the magical memories of past South-Bys eventually pulled me back in and here I am again, grumbling about bouncers, badgeholders, and bitches but essentially happy with the experience so far.
Wednesday and Thursday have done little more than reinforce a certain theory I have about the dreaded "badges." After every SXSW music festival, every person that has a badge goes home swollen with young, and after a year-long hibernation period gives birth to a large clutch of new badgeholders, each brought screaming into this world as a fully-grown music biz manchild with a lanyard already swinging from their slimy, placenta-smeared necks. Natal fluids still oozing from their orifices, these industry goons immediately board airplanes, arrive in Austin, and proceed to squeeze out anyone not expressly interested in schmoozing, ego-stroking or self-fellatio. After only two days of wandering through the downtown morass, I've already heard complaints from many others like me, who can't conceive of paying $450 for admission (maybe) to the 40 shows (cecilian estimate) you could possibly see in four days, not including drinks or footrubs. No doubt my file-sharing indiscretions are somehow tied to SXSW's now inevitable paradigm shift from a true music festival to a glorified trade seminar, but it's still pretty frustrating to pay $110 and not be able to get in even when you arrive three and a half hours early for a show, and that's IF the venue even bothers with a wristband line at all. The "buzz" that attracts the badgefuckers is quite capricious and it's hard to tell just where the turds will be flocking while planning out my evening. I'm certain this paragraph comes off like straight envious bitching, but flaming the pushy, self-righteous badgecocks is really quite satisfying and it's all good clean fun anyhow.
On Wednesday myself and Tonacity showed up early at the Parish for Magnolia Electric Co. and found an already long line, a no-smoking sign and my brother. We decided to go to Friends next door instead and catch Bikini Atoll and Midlake before they formed their own long line. My brother did eventually get in and said it was a great show with much new material. Bikini Atoll was pretty interesting, very Nick Cavish/Lou Reedish with a very animated keyboard girl and two guys that looked something like Steven Weber's ugly brothers. It was a good show. I was really looking forward to seeing Midlake again after missing them last year, and I wasn't disappointed except set-up problems and the small, overcrowded venue cut the first fifteen minutes of their set. Highlights were "Balloon Maker" and "The Jungler." I got pretty rancid trashed the first night and I apologize for any early morning, shitty-sound phone calls.
Thursday afternoon I drove down to Jovitas for a day show featuring Caitlin Cary, the Bottle Rockets, and Calexico. Free beer and food was supposed to be part of the deal, but that was apparently total bullshit and since T-Man bailed on me ("pooped"), I decided to hit the skids during the terribly generic Steve Wynn performance in the interests of resting up myself for the coming evening events. At 9:30 we tried to arrive early for M.I.A. at Elysium only to find badges lined up back to fuckin' Shanghai. So then we walked down to the Parish, to try and make the "special guest" Spoon appearance at 1:00 am. We were biding our time in the long line when Jason Molina from Songs: Ohia and Magnolia Electric Co. fame walked by and stopped to talk to me after I called him out. Did he have any $10 copies of the new album in his little manbag? No, but he would give me something, and he withdrew a little notepad and began to scribble as we made small talk about nothing in particular. Here's the result, a nice little souvenir. So we bailed on the Parish and decided to drag on up to the Velvet Spade for Minibosses at 1:00. Maybe theirs wasn't the highest priority performance for me but it ended up being fucking awesome, and I highly recommend any ex-Nintendo geeks out there see this band at some point because they rock damn hard. All are great musicians, they really get into it, and as gimmicky as the idea is, hearing the themes at such preposterous volumes immediately brings back old memories of the games, which when combined with a mellowing sixer buzz is a pretty nice feeling.
More to come!
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03/12/05 1:07pm
Do you have those showerheads that are like, double showerheads?
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A "Dusche" Bag
Does anyone else shake as the first step in the drying off after a shower process? I mean, mostly we're talking about the hair, maybe some legs and feet, hands and arms - just some vigorous shaking in order to get rid of as much moisture as possible before the actual toweling begins. If you just jump right out of the shower and start toweling off, not only have you probably soaked your bathmat, but before you're completely dry the towel is damp and just not accomplishing its objective anymore. And part of this stems from being in Texas - some lingering moisture might feel good just coming out of the shower, but you put on clothes and go outside in the Austin summer with certain areas not completely dry, you're bound to feel some mugginess, if not outright chafing. And you just can't get completely dry with a damp towel. Getting rid of those large, easily shed droplets before using the towel essentially extends its absorbency capabilities, allowing you to dry yourself at leisure. I would not recommend this technique while sick or hung-over, however, as the reverberating sledgehammer headache can knock you right on your ass.
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