Halloween yuks in St. Louis

Did you know that in St. Louis, kids are required to tell a joke on Halloween to get their treats? I never knew! NPR has a story about it and here's a calvacade of kids telling jokes on Halloween in this video.

How did the ghost say good-bye to the vampire? So long sucker!

What did the clown-eating cannibal say? Something tastes funny.

What's a pirate's favorite letter? RRRRRRRRrrrrrr!

Heeyuk!

Songs about the 1%

Have you seen the news from the front lines of Occupy Oakland? Jesus H. Christ, it's a war zone downtown. Tear gas, rubber bullets, beat-downs--an eruption of brutal violence on what was essentially a peaceful protest. These are dark times for a very large portion of the U.S. population. Don't add to the total darkness, city police departments!

If nothing else, the Occupy movement may cause the 1% to stop focusing on the Democrats and instead change their refrain to, "Get your hands out of my pockets...everybody." What are the songs the wealthy will sing during their sit-ins? Here's a helpful list. I live to serve!

Motorhead - Eat The Rich. From the 1988 film of the same name. The movie was a low-budget satire on class and cannibalism. Though not a box-office winner (satires rarely are), its caustic tone embedded itself into my brain at an impressionable age. RIP, Lemmy, you rocked.




Hall and Oats (and his mustache) - Rich Girl. I didn't understand where this song was coming from, back in '77. I grew up in a Northern Californian suburb full of soon-to-be middle-class families, where the goal was to be as much alike as possible. Or else. If you were too wealthy, like a doctor or a lawyer, you moved to Danville. If you were struggling, it didn't matter as long as you wore the correct clothing and had the right haircut to fit in. When MTV came along, it helped break up the monotony somewhat. But I didn't know any rich people nor did I deal with rich-people problems. I still don't.




The Beatles - Baby You're a Rich Man. A Lennon/McCartney production, supposedly about their manager Brian Epstein, with two melodies because rich people just want more and more—one melody won't do, my dear, won't do at all!


Baby You're a Rich Man - The Beatles from feliXart on Vimeo.


Cyndi Lauper - Money Changes Everything. Oh hey, speaking of which... Man, Cyndi Lauper is fierce. Watch her rise above the audience in a not-so-deluxe garbage can at 4:40 while never losing her tone. I didn't appreciate her during her pop stardom. There were lots of women to watch in the 80s musical landscape. I just saw her on a "My Life on the D-List" episode and she was a hoot--a true individual.




Kanye West with Jamie Foxx - Gold Digger. See? Money just brings on a whole set of enviable problems that most of us can only fantasize and/or completely care less about. Plus, if you're extra-wealthy, Lemmy wants to EAT you! That can't be good.




Funkadelic - Funky Dollar Bill. The things we do for a dollar bill. Some of my past jobs: baby-, dog- and housesitter, housecleaner, telemarketer for bowling lessons and unaccredited reading-comprehension courses, ice cream scooper for a psychopath, busboy for more psychopaths, sandwich-maker, office temp on an epic scale, nonprofit arts administrator and live/work housing database operator, development assistant for private art school, after-school art teacher, preschool teacher, continuity and editing assistant for film shoots, arts journalist, freelance photographer, cartoonist, film-archivist assistant, childcare library administrator, editor, Web designer and content provider, housewife, Internet toiler, to be continued...




Oh PLEASE let the 1% make The Flying Lizards' version of Money be their official protest song. This is all I ask of the cultural cosmos.

Sun Ra, Brother From Another Planet

A fascinating BBC documentary about a fascinating musician and composer. Were you lucky enough to see Sun Ra and his Arkestra? I hope so. Sometimes they played the most dissonant, industrial mad noise. Sometimes they'd endlessly jam and you'd almost see colors. Sometimes they played straight up jazz improv of the most accomplished sort. And they were very, very together. Many individuals playing as one.

Half-ass TV recap: Work of Art Season 2, episode 2

What's this? ANOTHER half-ass TV recap? Two in a ROW? I'm sorry, but here at half-ass TV recap headquarters, there are no rules. There is only television. So the votes are in and this week's episode was a true crap-fest of bad concepts, bad teamwork and ultimately bad art. But no worries, America. The quality of construction is not the focus here. Work of Art is looking for lightning-quick thinkers and creative innovators who are up to ludicrous demands on their sanity and time. So far, this cast is grasping, but I have faith that one or two will get it together at some point in TV seasonal time.

Where was I? Yes. Work of Art, Episode 2 opens with everyone's favorite morning activity, Parkour. The artists are gathered to watch some guys run and bounce off the edifices of New York City and then sit on a wall, breathing heavily afterward. The team (uh-oh) challenge: Movement. Demonstrate movement in art in two group shows. They have a day and a few extra hours to complete this task. I'm thinking: giant mobiles, hanging sculptures, mini-generators powered by hamsters, modern dance (aiee), projectiles, you know: movement. Here's what the teams come up with: Poop. And: Phases of the Moon as Represented by Migration Patterns from the Asian Continent. You know, movement.

So Team Poop, or Digestion, as they redub themselves, get to work on poop-inspired art. The Sucklord is skeptical. "How does this involve movement?" he asks to his oblivious teammates. The answer: it's slow movement. Over at Team Phases of the Moon/Immigration Studies, I don't exactly know what's happening except Kathryn is beavering away at what looks like a bloody stomach, hanging in a box with a camera trained on it, in case it moves. Note that Kathryn has only shown work before and during episode 1 that involves guts, blood and fluids, made from clay, plastic and what-not. This is her thing. Team Moon should have traded her to Team Digestion at this point, but it's not baseball. Always remember that. Art is not baseball--don't try to make it something it's not (talking to myself here).

Mentor Simon de Pury steps in and happily begins studying the ongoing work. His happy-face falls almost immediately and he calls a solemn meeting where he tells one and all in his charming Swiss/British/French accent to scrap everything and start over. And to make sure it's Brrrrilliant! Whoa. The artists handle this two ways: they start over or they just keep going in the same direction. Artists are like that.

Team Digestion switches to Team Playground and starts developing childlike rides, except for last week's winner (and immunity grantee) Michelle, who sculpts a wooden man with wooden balls, sitting near a photographed playground. When you pull his balls, his arms flap up and presumably so does his dowel-like penis. Bravo won't show the penile movement in order to shield our delicate sensibilities. I've never seen a dowel move like an erection, Bravo, but now I'm even MORE intrigued and will try this at home. Your censorship has only piqued my curiosity that much more. Not really.

The Sucklord creates a game that shoots things into funnels that trigger rat-traps with toy rats in them. It looks kind of fun to play actually. Score one for The Sucklord. Sara makes a swinging-girl sculpture with a vagina. Bravo has no qualms about giving us a closeup on the vagina. Double-standard standards, I guess. Dusty makes a teeter-totter with his portrait on one side because he misses his family. Later, host China Chow will attempt to ride this contraption in her floofy designer dress, adding a layer of meaning that has no meaning.

Over at the other team, they've altered their concept to circles. Team Circles sneers at Team Playground, calling their efforts, "childish" and "literal." Kathryn has stuck to her guns (guts) and is now filming splatting innards onto plastic. This will loop into endless splat. It turns out she suffers from Crohn's Disease and can't seem to stop creating this particular vision. This is too bad on a few levels. First of all, anyone who has Crohn's Disease, I am immediately moved to wish them well and to advise them not to join reality-show casts, as they are stressful and stress sets off Crohn's symptoms, which are painful and very difficult to treat. Kathryn realizes this as she is shown swallowing her daily pills while experiencing a flare-up of her disease. She is looking very pale, which is a Crohn's symptom. And she can't stop making internal-organ art, which will hurt her and her team, who are focused on the concept, however ludicrous, of moving circles.

Gallery show time! Team Playground has an interactive thing going on where people are playing with the stuff and watching it mostly move in various ways. Team Circles or Loop, or whatever they try calling themselves, is really sad. Young Sun has made a limply hanging Mylar(?) Japanese flag that's supposed to represent Japan, post-typhoon. What the fuck? Lola glue-gunned a billion doctor-office paper shreds into a big ball that just sits there, attached to some kind of hanging blob that just hangs there. Leon made a tableau with broken window, swinging light bulb and some fallen debris. It's well put-together, I suppose. And the light bulb is a circle shape.

The judges are aghast. Really--they look crestfallen, having to critique this work. Ha ha ha! They pick Michelle with her pervert sculpture and Bayete's video, WEEEE! as top finalists. Bayete's simple video of himself spinning on a rooftop, is the winner. The video has side-by-side images of Bayete, focusing on his face as the city spins behind him. Judge Bill Powers finds it "oddly mesmerizing." Jerry Saltz wonders how it was made. Bayete looks like he's having childlike fun, even though in reality he was dizzy and felt like throwing up the entire time he made the piece. I've spun around for art with my son for this effect for a photo assignment and it is fun and I almost threw up too. I'm not going to tell the judges that this is a simple method to combine sharp-focus with motion-blur. Let them wonder. It does work well for this challenge. Congratulations, Bayete.

Bottom three are Lola and her shredded balls, Kathryn and her looping guts, and Tewz, who made a stagnant modern piece with a cylinder, some tubing and a plastic hand that's supposed to spin around, but just hangs there, sadly. Tewz thinks his sculpture is really good. The judges are all like, WHAT?!??!? Guest judge and last-season regular, Jeanne Greenberg Rohatyn, finds their focus on circles, "Ridiculous." Ya think?

During Kathryn's critique, Jerry calls her on her inability to do anything other than what she does and she bursts into uncontrolled sobbing. It's really bad. The judges and host China Chow look like they'd prefer to go to commercial. We do. And when we return: Kathryn is out. She will focus on getting better and continuing to make her art (taking Jerry's critique into account) while having visceral experiences. Stay well, Kathryn.

And now, artwork coincidentally inspired by this week's Work of Art. A few weeks ago, my son wanted to make a video. He picked the tune and improv'd this. Note that his work contains movement, circles and actual play. Unfortunately, like Kathryn, he has Crohn's Disease. He's a brave and inspiring person and a hell of a hula-hooper.

Half-ass TV recap: Work of Art, ep 1 and Real Housewives of Beverly Hills Season 2

Hi everyone! I've been missing in action around here, but not for lack of trying. I was truly blocked this week with lots of real-life adventures and live-in-the-moment situations that did not allow for creative blogging as is my wont. And now, it's time for a truly half-ass TV recap that barely counts as a recap at all. Not because the desire isn't there. It is. Oh, yes. But I just don't have any privacy or time to actually watch television and take notes.

So my diabolical plan was to recap every episode of my favorite reality show, Work of Art, Season 2, since I missed out last season. Didn't we all? Work of Art was kind of snuck into the Bravo line-up last year. I don't really remember much promotion for the show. The network almost seemed a bit embarrassed by a fine-art competition. But it turned out to be one of the greatest experiments in entertainment in the 21st Century. A room full of narcissistic creative types, given impossible-to-accomplish challenges using fine-art media and their whackadoo thinking-caps, all in the name of gallery-industry fame and fortune.

Plus New York Magazine's art critic/Work of Art judge Jerry Saltz added even more layers of entertainment with his often self-lacerating blog and its legion of mega-commenters (myself included). Saltz' recaps quoted Goethe and seriously questioned the concept of the show, the commerce of art, and his own role on both counts. How could you not love this show? I ask you. Because Bravo is very stingy with image-sharing from the show (art copyright laws are a bitch), I will provide half-ass line drawings for your visual pleasure.


So episode one of season 2 introduces all the contestant artists, who are looking even prettier than last year. There's no old people (like me), and I can't tell the women apart yet because they're all around the same height, weight, and have straight, longish hair. Not a criticism, but sheesh--last year there was an old person and different body types at least. The guys shuffle in as well. There's a gorgeous French guy named Ugo whose blue eyes during his face-time interviews have me saying, "Hummina, hummina hummina!" There's a guy named The Sucklord, who makes altered action figures. You know he'll be around for a while. There's a performance-artist, Young Sun, who seems to be a prodigy but we'll see. There is nudity and Speedo's when it comes to Young Sun. Leon is from Malaysia and is trying to prove himself as an artist who happens to be deaf. There's more but it's all a blur on the first episode.

The artists are shown a gallery full of crappy, kitschy art pieces and told to pick one and make something high art-ish with the crap as inspiration. It's a glorious beginning! They grab their crap and get cracking. Or some of them do. Lola cannot get it together until the last minute. The judges end up loving her cold, gallery-ready installation of muted paintings and cement structures that represent her longing to settle down in once place. Michelle wins the challenge with an eagle totem and skeletal paper sculpture, evoking a recent near-death experience she had in a hit-and-run car accident. That's about as anti-kitschy a concept as any.

Ugo (hummina hummina) is deemed dull and Keith-Haring-derivative with his red-on-red pattern thing over more other patterned things, and he is out. No more blue eyes. Truly, Bayeté probably should have gone, with his very bad collage that heaped on the cliches of identity and race, or The Sucklord, who made a piece of kitsch art of Gandalf that was even kitschier than the painting of a wizard he based it upon. Plus he's called The Sucklord. Guest judge Mary Ellen Mark saves Sucklord in the end. His work "speaks to her." This somewhat makes sense when I find an article in the Sunday NY Times about her passion for collecting cute little robots. In the end, handsome guy is dropped. But art marches on.


And on Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, season 2, Brandi's child peed in some bushes and this became relevant because later at a game party held by Dana, Kim and Kyle called her on that. Camille tried to comfort Kim after Brandi called her a bitch and accused her to doing crystal meth. Kim called Brandi a bitch slut, pig slut, and short-shorts-wearing whore. And Brandi agreed that she was, in all likelihood, a slut. Taylor looked horrified and kept the angry housewives from engaging in fisticuffs and the game party dissolved as a result. I missed the thrilling conclusion because my kid started a pillow fight with me.

Meanwhile at the Vanderpump residence, Lisa's daughter Pandora is finally engaged to her long-time boyfriend, Jason, over formal sit-down family dinner with lots of shiny, mirrored plates and vases. A wedding planner is soon brought on board. He sports a mullet and is like something out of a very late-season, very bad episode of "Will and Grace." Lisa hires him anyway, probably because Bravo will foot some of the bill to keep this obnoxious guy around. There is talk of spending a million dollars for Pandora's wedding, although Lisa would prefer something more "English" in the realm of $150,000. Not gonna happen, even though the wedding planner finds Pandora's wish for a pink-roses-festooned wedding dress to be "tacky." And with air kisses, that's the show. I missed all the earlier episodes. Thank GOD.

Next week I'll do a better job, I promise. In theory.

Buster Keaton is so damn funny

Buster Keaton is my fave movie persona of all time and Kino has seen fit to release two of his shorts, "Battling Butler" and "Go West." So that is grand news. Why Buster? Because he did all his own ridiculously dangerous stunts (and many of his co-stars' as well). Because he was endlessly inventive. Because he was the ultimate poker-faced yet charming screen presence. Here's a bullet-point what-makes-Buster Keaton-great list:

• Although he did the bulk of his best work throughout the 1920s, his films are still wonderfully strange and somewhat timeless, due to their being extensions of his wonderfully strange and somewhat timeless thought processes.
  
  
• He is playful onscreen, even during deadly situations. Especially during deadly situations.
  
  
• He knew deadly situations are fraught with tension and therefore can result in the biggest laughs, if done correctly.
  
  
• He was a perfectionist who strove to do most everything correctly.
  
  
• When stuck for an idea, he would call a time-out to play some baseball with his film crew. He loved baseball. It helped him think.
  
  
• He was a genius.
  
  
• He was adorable.
  
  
• He wore that little hat.
  
  
• I am in love with him.

See some Keaton films. "Sherlock Jr." has much to say about cinematic storytelling. "Steamboat Bill's" hurricane scene is dream-like yet so physically imposing. "Cops" is the ultimate surreal chase film. "Seven Chances" asks the question. what is more imposing--outrunning multitudes of giant boulders, or multitudes of brides trying to herd you into a church? "The General" explores every possible absurd stunt that can be choreographed on a steam train. In every situation, with every mechanical device, throughout geographical locations, Keaton delved into the potential weirdness and usually came out the other side, somewhat the wiser, though still deadpan.

The weirdness of car/motorcycle chases in "Sherlock Jr."


The weirdness of steam locomotion in "Daydreams."


Steam locomotion is weird (watch the train's arrival in the end).


The weirdness of home ownership in "One Week."


The weirdness of extreme weather conditions in "Steamboat Bill."


City streets in "Go West." San Francisco is starting to feel like this to me.


How not to box in "Battling Butler."


Thanks to diggia81 for many of the Buster uploads.

Roger Ebert's appreciation

Rick James - You and I

Get up and dance with the king of funk. Best chorus in the history of top-40 radio. 1978, baby!

Vintage Fashions from Your Friends at British Pathe

Long ago British Pathé produced these fine fashion films and now they have their own Vintage Fashions YouTube channel. Rejoice!

Mary Quant is synonymous with cool 60s fashion. Check out her convertible booties! She's tops.


It's the 50s. You want to be a model. You would have to attend modeling school and learn to walk and turn, my friend. Note: stick-thinness would not have been required.


Swim season is over but that doesn't mean we can't appreciate the bygone era of swim-cap fashion. This is like an outtake from America's Next Top Model but without the humiliating "pudding-vat pool" that Tyra would no doubt require her contestants to pose in (while smizing).


I should save this for my Christmas holiday posting needs, but I can't resist. And stores are featuring Christmas items now anyway, three weeks before Halloween. It truly is the nightmare before Christmas, everyone.


As noted on Jezebel.

Songs About Shellfish

It's Fish Friday (all Catholics of a certain age will know what I mean) and while the Pope no longer decrees what we're allowed to eat at the end of the working week, we can still celebrate with songs about shellfish. Actually, was it OK to eat shellfish on Fridays? I hope nobody sinned without knowing it! I hate when that happens.

Rock Lobster - The B-52's classic in its official video format. Back in high school when it was barely the 80s, our school's only punk, Skip, played this for me. She was a senior who wore fascinatingly weird clothing combinations of plaid and day-glow, had a boy haircut and always sported red, red lipstick. One day during lunch period she dragged me, a lowly sophomore, still dressed in corduroys and delicate floral blouses, to the school drama room's portable turntable and demanded that I listen to this from her personal record collection.

There are moments that alter our lives and we usually know what is happening at the time but we don't always have the words to describe it. This was one such moment for me. Thanks, Skip (she went on to become a preppy at Cal Berkeley--always the forward-thinker). While I listened to Rock Lobster with my teen-aged ears, I knew beyond a doubt there is a wide world out there beyond anything I could imagine. Plus you can dance to it.




Crawfish - Elvis Presley and Kitty White pour their hearts and souls into this sultry ode to the lowly bottom-dweller in "King Creole."




The Mollusk - If ever a band was up to the challenge of writing a prog-rock masterpiece about shellfish, it would be Ween. Then the Animated Brick Company made a video for it with LEGO. Ambition all around.




Eclectic Prawn - I already posted this song and video from Dumbo Gets Mad. But it's so great, it deserves a double-posting. And it's about a prawn who wears a little bitty crown. He's eclectic, you see. And the organ melodies have been stuck in my head for three days. Now they can be stuck in yours. You won't be sorry.




The Lobster Quadrille - Franz Ferdinand. The poem is by Lewis Carroll as envisioned by Tim Burton. This vision of Wonderland is dark and creepy. It depresses me but I haven't seen the movie yet so maybe it's a really feel-good venture. Um, yes.



And while we're at it, The Walrus and the Carpenter - a brutal lesson about the realities of the food chain and capitalism. And cabbages and kings.




Inflatable Boy Clams - Sorry. Not a song about shellfish but a tune by the 1981 band named after shellfish. A classic of bizarre proportions. I like to think this is based on two passive-aggressive roommates who once lived in San Francisco in a damp flat with orange wall-to-wall shag carpeting. One rents the bedroom with the window that looks out at a nearby wall and drainpipe. The other lives in the sun porch off the kitchen with just enough space for a twin mattress and an apple crate. A curtain made from an old quilt hangs in her doorway. The third bedroom is rented by a male model who is somewhere in Japan, dancing in a cornfield with an 16-year-old on his shoulders for a photo shoot. Not that I would know anything about this...




We end with The Smothers Brothers' Crabs Walk Sideways. Folk on, shellfish lovers!

From the mixed-up MP3 files of Mrs. Captive Wild Woman blogspot dot com

It's one of those days. The 100+ degree weather has taken a turn and suddenly we're wearing pants. And socks. And cardigans. Not to worry because thanks to climate change we'll be back at the community pool in 90-degree heat within a day or so. It's like living in two places at once with two wardrobes and of course, the squirrels (no matter what the season, weather, or mindset, there are squirrels).

So what's on the MP3 playlist today? I set it for random scramble (like a squirrel) and here's what came up. Enjoy.

Dumbo Gets Mad - Eclectic Prawn. From Italy and really quite a mish-mash of wonderful things.


The Appleseed Cast - End Frigate Constellation. Prog not dead.

Why not see them live? I think you won't be sorry.

Odjbox - Teresina. Technically I'm listening to their remix, Sepia Sky, but there's no video for it, unfortunately. This is also fun and has clips from one of my favorite old films, "Dance Girl Dance."


Dum Dum Girls - Bedroom Eyes. Bringing the girlish back to girl groups.


Ty Segall - The Drag. This young fellow can really rock (said while in my rocking chair on the porch with a bowl of roasted almonds in my lap).


Plus: no video but worth a listen (and a free download):

Extra Happy Ghost - Mercy Mercy

Mark Davis - Eliminate the Toxins

Comet Gain - Working Circle Explosive!

Most-hated-words Haiku

Where would we be without language? We'd be davfn e8pawu asgfwj 3 da9nfn67, that's where. But as great as language can be, there are words which bother, bewilder and sometimes even disgust us. Words that are "icky" to say, or have weird meanings we don't want to deal with, or are overused, becoming meaningless word tics. These most-hated-words are the inspiration for my haiku. And because Internet poetry is such an excellent search-engine lure (snerk!), it's win-win. Oh God, I HATE the word, win-win.


Do not say pamphlet
It sounds like Pamprin panties
Stop saying it, please!


How lame is shampoo?
Do you want it on your head?
I didn't think so


Hey, sexy nipples!
Absolutely erotic!
Not bloody likely


Struggle for respect
A voice in the wilderness
twitter does not help


DVDs are here!
Happiness tempered by
stupid Qwikster name


Irregardless, I'd
like to reiterate
that I'm an idiot


LOL, ;) LMFAO
ROTFLMFAO
just laugh, you moron


I want you to know
verbage was never a word
but garbage still works


Dude, hella awesome
mommy blogger webinar!
Epic beige pamphlets!
(Just trying to squeeze as many in as possible. Carry on...)

Thanks to my friends who contributed their most hated words. There's enough for a possible Vol. II - epic!

R.E.M. was really fucking great

And now I will bore you with my R.E.M. story. I dragged my roommate to an R.E.M. show at The Stone on Broadway in San Francisco for the 1983 tour. This was on the back of the "Murmur" album, which was mostly known through college radio. I had heard Radio Free Europe once on KSAN or some such free-form commercial station and I was smitten. "C'mon," I told my skeptical roommate, "This band is really great. I'm not kidding. We gotta go see them." I was like something out of a Brady Bunch episode.

So on the basis of that one unarguably great song, we went to see R.E.M. The Stone was a nondescript rec-room of a club, generally booked by heavy-metal and up-and-coming indie acts. Its main distinction was a black-and-white tiled floor and a clothing boutique across the street that could outfit you like a member of Poison, if you so desired.

Since there were only a couple hundred people there (I think capacity was 350), we just parked in front of the stage and drowned ourselves in R.E.M.'s youthful, talented musical energies for the entire set. Mike Mills winked at us a few times which freaked us out because we were 19 and thought of him as an "older man." And also I was very insecure and assumed he might just have an eye tic, but maybe not. Michael Stipe was the Frank Sinatra of indie rock, voice-wise but was adorably shy in that "sitting in the corner of English class" college way. Still: Peter Buck was the man. He has double-jointed fingers, I'm sure of it. No one can play like him then and now. Oh, and lest we forget: Bill Berry was/is a great drummer and the heart of R.E.M. It was really sad when he had to quit the band. It took a lot out of them, I think we can all agree.

That show was as excellent as they come. Really one of the finest nights in my life. I never saw them again because I knew they could never surpass that show in my mind. It's twisted and probably wrong of me, but I was happy with my memories without sullying the situation with possibly inferior outings in the future. Plus I saw Peter Buck and his magical fingers numerous times with his other bands, so I'm good. They really opened up music for a lot of people, injecting energy and innovation into folk/punk-rock. Thanks guys.



Man, I'm old.

Army Navy - Ode to Janice Melt

Army Navy's got a bright Brit-pop thing going on even though they're from Los Angeles. And probably because they're from Los Angeles, their music videos are like wee films of absurd weirdness featuring fairly high production values and coherent (if bizarre) concepts. "Ode to Janice Melt" has adorable Jason Ritter falling into forbidden love...with his hand.



Army Navy isn't afraid to get their funny on. Probably a smart business plan in today's crap music industry.

"My Thin Sides"


"Saints"


As seen on NPR's All Songs Considered Blog

Happy Bonzo Dog Band Day

I was watching the six-part Monty Python documentary, "Almost The Truth (The Lawyer's Cut)" today and The Bonzo Dog Band got a big shout-out in episode one. They were very influential to the future Pythons when they were just starting out on the show "Do Not Adjust Your Set." And while Peter Sellers, Peter Cook and other comic geniuses of the day were doing their blend of dry, absurd and silly, the Dog Band was just plain weird. Truly "out there" and free-form. The blend of influences all came together and the rest is Flying Circus history. Let's listen in.











"Almost The Truth" is currently streaming on Netflix, but who knows how long that will last. The situation at Netflix is fluid, as in quite possibly running down the drain.

Top-ten whatever...

The Internet has way too many numbered lists of things. But here are some that may be worth noting. Noting how with all our infinite resources on a planet perfect for human habitation, we've managed to dumb it down so thoroughly. Enjoy.

10 Worst Infomercials. This is a decent list of horrifying consumer products. My brother still has nightmares about the hair trimmer (#4). The key words: no matter how much they squirm, should have been a tip-off to my mom that as my brother still proclaims, "IT HURTS! OH GOD--HOW IT HURTS!" Also, I can watch The Hawaii Chair (#2) over and over again. It's hypnotically inane.




10 Trippiest Cereal Ads. Take a journey into the realm of your mind. Before noon? Yes, before noon.




10 Craziest Award-show Crashers. Award shows are perhaps the biggest time-wasters you can voluntarily submit yourself to. Would you pay to spend hours of your life watching a bunch of industry hoo-haws congratulate and thank each other between endless bouts of chatter and bad comedy-writing? Then why would you watch it on TV, even with bathroom breaks? Crashers help break the veneer of glossy civility and remind us that in a universe without end, we are never in control.




10 Commercials Before They Were Stars. Reminding us that celebrities once came from humble beginnings, like most of us. Humble beginnings that if nationally syndicated, brought them hundreds of thousands of dollars in revenue.




For the rest of us, this is more like it.

Cardboard Tube Fight - this weekend

Today we explore the epic melee that is cardboard tube fighting. The Cardboard Tube Fighting League will hold a cardboard tube fight in San Francisco this Saturday on September 17th, the year 2011, 11:30 to 4 in the afternoon, at the Hayes Valley Farm.

Enter the cardboard costume contest. Cardboard wrapping-paper tubes will be provided. Fight 'til the last tube is standing (not bent). Just think: you and hundreds of cardboard-clad hipsters, duking it out in a cardboard tube frenzy.




The memorable cardboard-tube battle of 2008 - Dolores Park, San Francisco.




Cardboard - packaging material, rooted in violence.

Thoughts on the Circus

You might be aware that yesterday was the tenth anniversary of 9/11. For me, it was important to get as far away from remembrances as possible. Not because I'm unfeeling. I'm actually the opposite. I have so many feelings, they tend to spill over into a flood of unchecked emotion, which threatens my mental health at times. On top of which, I've been dealing with a very sick kid on and off for two years now and lately he's been off (though much better today, thanks for asking!).

This year, disturbing, depressing, heavy topics, narratives and historical events tend to bring me way, way down. They always did--it's just that now, they bring me down to the point where I have trouble getting back up again. So, yesterday, we went to the circus.

I didn't mean to get tickets for the circus yesterday. It worked out that way in a moment of accidental planning that probably was for the best. My mom's been wanting to take Jackson to the circus for a long time. The Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey show as in town, so what better circus experience is that? Well, as my mom said afterwards, "It's not like it used to be."

First inkling that something might be overly modernized was the title of the show, "Fully Charged." I had images of Las Vegas electrical mayhem stuck in my head as I purchased the ridiculously expensive tickets with their multiple service charges tacked on (thanks for the tickets, mom). And I think from my minimal photography below, you will note: yes, that is one fully charged show. The lights actually didn't bother me and there were lots of cool explosions and firework-type entrances, but my mom has eye troubles and it was hard for her to see stuff, looking directly into the crazy circus entry point that must have had 50 fully charged color patterns throughout the show.

My main issue was noise level. Oh God--it was SO LOUD. There was a live band with lots of fully charged synthesizers and even with ear plugs, my head felt jack-hammered for more than an hour before intermission. Caveat: I am a drummer in a rock band. I play really, really loud sometimes. Nothing I've ever experienced in a band or at a rock show, including thrash metal, came close to the decibels of Fully Charged. I was punch drunk all night afterwards. How this affected toddlers in the audience with developing ear drums, I don't want to dwell upon too thoroughly. I already mentioned that I'm overly emotional.

And then there's the issue of all the toddlers in the audience and children in general. Most children at this particular afternoon show at the reverberating Oracle Arena were too young to get much out of this gigantic spectacle. They don't yet have context during their brief lives for the tiger tamer and his giant striped kitties on pedestals. Nor for the strong men who are as wide as they are tall, swinging lovely ladies from telephone poles like a human carnival ride. To toddlers, Velcro enclosures and electric toothbrushes are still considered miraculous.

Even my nine-year-old was bored by the seemingly impossible stunts at times. To him, that's what circus performers are hired to do. And the tigers... When I expressed wonder at how their trainer was able to get them up on their hind legs, like hamsters, and then roll over in unison, when most dog-owners can't do the same with their animals, Jackson matter-of-factly stated (with a shrug), "Well, they are trained." Maybe multi-media saturation has managed to ruin the wonder of circuses somehow.

But let's be clear: I dig the circus. It's main job, to wow us with impossibility, thrills, laughter, color, and surreal epic showmanship, will hopefully prevail for the next few centuries. I told my mom it's like modern vaudeville and aside from "America's Got Talent," what spectacle promises that? The circus tradition brings together people from all over the world, working together like a Lycra-encased eccentric multi-talented family. I'm sorry about the animal-rights situation with performing animals. That's a tradition that seems to be slowly fading away and only appears to prevail under the public-relations guise of "edutainment." Still: elephants in sequined headdresses! And pretty horses, all running in formation!

Ultimately, the Ringling Bros. set out to overwhelm and blow our minds and I will say: yup--mind blown. Eardrums too. And watching Brian Miser, The Human Fuse, get shot from a gigantic crossbow across the entire stage at 65 miles per hour while completely on fire, is, as Jackson admitted while we left the show early to save our sanity, "Cool."



Check out the amazing Fernandez Brothers. They are truly fully charged!






He tried to act blasé and he wanted to leave early, but his face betrays more than a touch of excitement at the goings-on around him.


p.s. Jackson agrees, the "How Many Clowns Does it Take to Change a Light Bulb" show was really funny.

George Kuchar - In Memoriam

The great camp filmmaker George Kuchar has died at age 69. It's a sad day. He was a nice man. A creative man. A driven man, who inspired untold numbers of filmmakers over the years.

Starting in adolescence, he and his twin brother Mike had their aesthetic down--Hollywood homage demento. Their early films premiered in New York City where underground-film goers marveled at their loving and lurid tales of depravity and loneliness. John Waters was truly inspired and took off on his own wild tangent shortly thereafter.

George and Mike continued to make films until the present. George also taught filmmaking at the San Francisco Art Institute. His low-budget, let's-put-on-a-twisted-show approach was a lesson in resourcefulness and filmic wonder. His use of background music alone is brilliant, but it's the color and the pathos that get to me. Every time.

Hold Me While I'm Naked (1966) - A classic. No, really. It truly is. Starring the lovely Donna Kerness.


I, An Actress (1977) - A "screen test" he shot with a student who was more interested in acting than filmmaking.


Dynasty of Depravity (2005) Part 1 - SFAI student filmmaking in action.

Part 2

George discusses his feelings about Texas in 2009.


I've written briefly about George and his obsession with severe weather patterns in the Midwestern United States. Mike continues to make films. My condolences to the Kuchar family.

NY Times obit

I Go To Sleep

In 1965 Ray Davies wrote and recorded "I Go To Sleep" with The Kinks. Most people have not heard that version though. Most people have heard almost everyone on Earth's version instead. Since I couldn't sleep last night (technically I slept great, until 4:30 a.m.--then, not so good), and my kid's been having a lot of sleep issues, I thought I'd explore the highways and byways of "I Go To Sleep." Won't you come along? It's a magic-carpet ride to Slumberland.

The Kinks


Cher


Peggy Lee


Marion Maerz


The Pretenders


Rasputina


Anika

Science experiments for stay-at-home types

Science! It's not just for scientists any more. Whether you're a preschool teacher fulfilling the academic portion of a toddler's day, or a bored hipster who can't get a hold of your dealer, at-home science experiments are entertainment and brain candy in one. Double your fun while adding powerful new wrinkles to your cranial lobes. Here's how:

Make a lava lamp with regular kitchen ingredients. This experiment has mesmerized my son to the point where he can't sit at the dining-room table without activating his homemade lava lamps. It's made our family gatherings a little more groovy. Science Bob and his super low-key assistant will show you how.


Perhaps you would like to try something even more explosive. Like this "elephant's toothpaste" foam experiment.


But you're asking yourself, how can I do this incredible experiment at home? Science Bob will teach you.


Steve Spangler, Internet Science King, and his screaming balloons.


Life is better with a bouncy egg.


It glows too.


Don't forget my favorite: Non-Newtonian fluid on a speaker cone.


Surely you've added Mentos to your Diet Coke by now?