Wednesday, February 25, 2004

Silly Things Coming Back Soon

But first, this is a darn good editorial cartoon (saw it on Calpundit).

Tuesday, February 24, 2004

Quizno's Thingies from the commercials

Yes, I love them too. Just like the guy in Slate.

But if you're ready for something more complex from the same source, try this.

Friday, February 20, 2004



Double Slaying

Sexual Contact

Woman Bludgeoned

Cab Driver Killed

Workplace Shooting

Warehouse Fire

Crushed Between Trucks

Wife Slaying

Fatal Beating

Domestic Stabbing

Mad Cow Emergency

Manitoba Update

Leukemia Scam

Man Frozen

Nurse Jailed

Avalanche Fatal

Dennis Kucinich

Wednesday, February 18, 2004

Rejected NPR Commentaries (a semi-regular feature)

I watched President Bush campaigning the other day at the Daytona 500. Well, I should say that I read an article about it, later, on the Internet. Though I am the father of two, I am not a NASCAR fan, therefore not a coveted "NASCAR Dad", and therefore shunned by the candidates in this year's presidential election.

But I am a part of a different voting bloc, one whose numbers and power are ignored at the candidates' own peril. I am a "Waiting For A New Beastie Boys Record Dad". It's been six years now since 1998's Hello Nasty, we're disoriented, we're antsy, and we need something-someone!-to believe in.

A little history: me and my fellow Waiting For A New Beastie Boys Record Dads picked up the Beasties' breakout Licensed to Ill when we were in high school, maybe college, maybe junior high, back in 1986 and it blew our minds. Here were these guys-these dorks!-who looked like they could be us but were so much more impossibly awesome. We developed heterosexual man crushes. Our formative adult years were punctuated with well-spaced releases from MCA, Ad-Rock, and Mike D. As we grew older, their music likewise became more mature while still maintaining the kind of playful recklessness that we, the ones who are now Waiting For A New Beastie Boys Record Dads, honestly always lacked but heartily admired nonetheless.

But then, as our 20's ebbed away, and kids started appearing along with their obligatory and incessant Raffi CDs, and middle age loomed, the Beastie Boys stopped. And we became a demographic. A hungry, lonely, desperate demographic. Just look in the eyes of any dad loading a screaming toddler into a minivan. I mean really look at the guy. He's one. We're everywhere. Come get us.

And the thing is, it would be easy for the candidates to incorporate an appeal into their existing styles. Bush could declare, squinting, that he knows the Beasties have been developing material for years and he's going to march in and get it recorded, with or without the UN. Edwards could call upon his trial lawyer experience and long record of helping common folks fight for their right to party. And though it might be risky, Kerry could hurl old copies of Beasties classics like Paul's Boutique and Check Your Head over a fence to send a message that they just aren't good enough any more. Of course, any of the contenders could also promise to nominate Ad-Rock to be Secretary of Illin'. Sure, the pundits would scoff. But that shrewd campaigner would win the vote of every single Waiting For A New Beastie Boys Record Dad across this great nation of ours.

Tuesday, February 17, 2004

Been down for a while. Uh...cause.
It's been rough for Outkast lately. First, the unbelievably stupid theme at the Grammy Awards. And now, their large implicit sponsor is calling their claims into question.

Tuesday, February 03, 2004

I empathize with Joe Lieberman. Because I am a Seattle sports fan.

Lieberman is a smart well-respected guy, who came close, but not all that close, to getting the Democratic nomination this year. The Seattle Seahawks, Mariners, and Sonics usually field decent teams that sometimes get into the playoffs where they generally lose.

John Kerry is authentically Bostonian. Like the Celtics, he seemed destined a year or so ago to be triumphant in the primaries and coast to the nomination. Like the Red Sox, he then seemed to have all the ingredients but none of the luck, destined to flop. Then, like the Patriots, he started piling up wins and heading for the Super Bowl. Big ups, crushing downs.

In Seattle, we watch this ecstasy and agony and wish we could be a part of it. Instead, we never win it all or end up as colossally glorious failures. The Seahawks made the NFL playoffs this year but lost in the first round to Green Bay. The Mariners had a winning season but failed to qualify for the post-season. The Sonics, lead by players regarded as pretty good, win about as many games as they lose and don’t seem likely to change that pattern in my lifetime. Having followed these teams my whole life, the candidacy of Joe Lieberman makes perfect sense to me. Like Lieberman, Seattle sports teams show up, do okay, and then just sort of wither. It’s the curse of mediocrity.

Lieberman and my teams are not alone in this cursed position. You could find tons of examples of things and people that fit this mold: the movie career of Jeff Goldblum. Celery. Any Cheap Trick album after Live at Budokan. The Mariners, Sonics, Seahawks, and Lieberman fit this oeuvre nicely. Corduroy fabric, Dabney Coleman, Fresca, a 9:30 CBS sitcom, Lime flavored anything, Art Garfunkel. It’s no coincidence that Lieberman staked his candidacy on doing well in Delaware. Delaware is so Lieberman.

What makes this purgatory so hard for Seattle fans and Liebermaniacs – I doubt they really call themselves that but they should—is that drama is the one thing you really want in sports and presidential politics. I mean, why else watch?

So now Lieberman is out and he goes back to his position of pretty good Senator from Connecticut. And I’m through rooting for my teams to either win it all or fail in spectacular appalling entertaining ways because that’s just not going to happen. I think I’ll start referring to the Sonics, Mariners, and Seahawks as, collectively, the Seattle Liebermans. Or Liebermen. Who knows? Maybe they’ll even pick up some Joe-mentum.

Super Bowl II

I don't care how CBS and Justin Timberlake try to spin it like it was an accident, I think it was totally inappropriate to "accidentally" rip off Janet Jackson's emotional exterior and reveal her beast. I know that these days people trot out their beasts all the time. Heck, if you pick up the Ambercomber Finks catalog it's full of nubile women and their jackals, wolverines, wild boars, and shrews. I think she should only show her beasts to her husband DeBarge. And besides, isn't a beast more enticing when we don't know what it looks like? We could imagine that Janet might have had a hedgehog or a lemur or an ocelot down there. But instead they go and reveal her beast on national television: a badger. It's not sexy and not right for TV.

Monday, February 02, 2004

Super Bowl

I don't care how CBS and Justin Timberlake try to spin it like it was an accident, I think it was totally inappropriate to "accidentally" rip off Janet Jackson's emotional exterior and reveal her soul. I know that these days you can see people's souls in movies all the time and, heck, even in the Abercromber Finch catalog but I guess I'm old fashioned. I think she should only share her soul with her husband DeBarge. And besides, isn't a soul more enticing when we don't know what it looks like? We could imagine that Janet's soul contained a longing for freedom from the constraints of celebrity or a virulent hatred of dogs (I'm just blue-skying here). But instead they go and reveal her soul on national television. It's not sexy and not right for TV.