c101: September 2005 Archives

That was the combination of the first lock I received in the sixth grade. I loved that lock, but I can't tell you why. I guess I loved it for the same reason I loved my first telephone number - 653-9348. And I suppose this is all especially surprising considering that other than basic calculations, math was my sworn enemy throughout school.

So, my question is this - why do we develop (I hope I am not alone here) an affection for silly, little mundane things such as combinations and telephone numbers? Do these numbers validate us in a cruel and uncaring world? Do these numerals prove that we exist (telephone) or allow secret entry to a place only we can access (combination) that makes us feel special? Or is it simply a connection to the world in which we live? I ask those that read this little corner of the web to share - what is your combination story? In the meantime, let's rok a song. It is by Air, I think. If anyone knows the name, please let me know.

UPDATE - Courtesy of RFO, my song is called "La Femme D'Argent" by Air. I knew he would know, because Dr. Cornelius knows all.

La Femme D'Argent

Please forgive my neglect in not viewing Michael Moore's Faranheit 9/11 until last eve. I know the film has been out a long time, but I have been a busy boy. Also, I guess like many, I thought Mr. Moore was way too far left to really give a serious listen. It is obvious he has his own agenda and similar to the Bush administration he would be willing to bend the facts however he saw fit.

Yet, I have to admit that even if half his movie is true, it makes no sense to me why we allow the Bush presidency to continue. The ties that Moore points out between the Bush family and the Bin Laden's is truly frightening. Basically, Osama and Georgy are two rich kids, fighting a global battle because they can. Moore shows that the one, true motivator of our little Bushy is the almighty dollar. Bushy is running a business, not a country. And that business is only for him and his cronies' financial gain.

The Bush administration's affiliation with the Saudi government, the ties that Cheney has with Halliburton and Bush Sr.'s work with the Carlyle group is unbelievable. Not to mention Bush's initial suppression of the 9/11 commission to conduct its investigation, citing that the information was sensitive is simply ridiculous. Simply put, we are the peasants and all Bushy wants is a dictatorship. He even admits it. All this said, I am not necessarily jumping to be a democrat, but I do think that this regime is an axis of evil all its own.

C'mon, not only did Bushy decide to go ahead with his photo-op on 9/11, he kept reading to a class after the second plane hit the tower. This lack of any reaction, this complete "deer in headlights" look is really what has always bothered yours truly.

Also, Thunderpants was kind enough to point out that if one googles the word failure, the first link is none other than a biography of GW. Rather funny, me thinks. Thanks for that, Thunder.

What to listen to after such a combustible post? How about Gang Starr's, "Say Your Prayer's" off Step in the Arena. I think we all need to start praying, whether it be to Allah, Buddah or Jebus. Somebody save us...

Say Your Prayers

We are all going to die, but we don't know when...until now. Apparently, I am scheduled to die Tuesday, May 11, 2049. That is what the death clock says, at least. So, 44 years is all C$ has left. Whether I am worm food or nine pounds of ash, please don't shed any tears, it's OK. Why? Because VS dropped Friday the 16th, that's why. I have been to the mountain top and I have seen the light. Jesus loves cheeses! If your cool enough, I may just send you a copy. I think I'll give a little taste of Stephen Mueller's masterwork...

Disgustipated (Remix)

This picture was donated to c101 by my lovely girl, Soupy. Seems this fella thought it prudent to throw some stylish photos of himself on the good 'ol World Wide Web. Why do you suppose he felt the need to share himself with all of us? I think the picture answers that question and a 1,000 more. Ladies, I am sure, are swooning all over this lovely planet of ours viewing our scarfed pimp. I think I am going to follow suit and get all dolled up and have some photos taken of me with an equally stylish backdrop and wardrobe. Who am I kidding? There is no way I can rival this brilliance. This is just more evidence of how unbelievably great the Web is, but we all knew that already. Let's rok Royskopp's "Someone Like Me" off Understanding - my little ode to our odd little friend to the left.

Someone Like Me

This morning I was eating my Fiber One (good for the poops, no?) and looking at Katie Couric when all of the sudden I was jolted from my reverie. A commercial with a serious voice over began speaking about Restless Leg Syndrome (RLS).

I then focused with laser beam attention because finally I knew I was not alone. In fact..."Up to 8% of the U.S. population may have this sensorimotor condition. Many people have a mild form of the disorder, but RLS severely affects the lives of millions of individuals."

You see, I have had bouts with what I had self-diagnosed as "crazy legs" for many a year. I had previously attributed this affliction to my sometimes hyper-activity. I knew, however, that my problem was also hereditary, as all my sisters and mother often had bouts of the "crazy legs" as well.

But, where I once was lost, now I am found, thanks to the RLS Foundation. I have also learned that next week is RLS awareness week and Sept. 23 is RLS awareness day. I am, however, left to wonder how we will celebrate - will there be a march?

Let's listen to R. Kelly's "Step In the Name of Love" off The Chocolate Factory in honor of my diagnosis.

Step In the Name of Love

First, I am sorry it has taken me oh so long to write down some thoughts. But, the windy city is keeping yours truly very busy. I can only hope and pray that I have not ostracized my loyal c101 visitors and participators.

Dirty Dale wanted me to write about the reign of Texas football this past week, but I am not going to do that. Though it is true that the 'Horns hooked the Buckeyes, as Mr. Hoob Vicious (we watched the entire ball game half in the bag via Margaritas) and myself can readily attest. Nope, I want to talk about work and how much it blows.

Currently, I am a fact-checker extraordinaire and event list checker at a Chicago magazine. And while my co-workers and boss are great and the job is relatively entertaining, I can't get over the fact that we (as Americans, that is) work way too much. I can safely say this considering I just ended a month and a half of unemployment and already I miss it. Nobody should have to sit 40 hours in the same place anywhere. And I mean period. Who in the hell thought that was a good idea in the first place? I mean 4-0 hours - if your lucky - probably closer to 50 or 60 for most. I am not saying for a minute to be lazy, I abhor laziness. My point is merely that one can enrich one's self and stay a solid contributor to the greater good without working one'slife away for the man. If only.

I always think about those bungholes who say that even if they win a gabillion in the lottery, they still would take their sorry asses to work. P-lease. There are so many books to read, organizations to volunteer for, movies to watch and music to hear. If I never had to hear an alarm blaring at me a 6:00 a.m. again, I could die a happy man.

Anyway, I want to post something dope show to take my mind off the droll and dreary daily race. Here is "The Sounder," off of the Gorillaz' G-Sides...enjoy and keep your noses to the grindstone, my peeps.

The Sounder

I feel bad. I feel that I have been sitting on my sofa and watching a disaster that may as well be a world away. Yet, it isn't. It is happening right here in the supposed numero uno country on the planet. Today on Charlie Rose, Charlie spoke to a panel of journalists that were natives of the Big Easy. Now that the dust has settled (water, as the case may be) all seemed to agree that the federal governments' reaction to Katrina was deplorable (especially FEMA). What a shock!

It is rather nutty to think that our good pal Bushy would not leave his vacation early to try and spearhead the relief effort. Nope, he waited three days. Nice. Real nice. It seems to me that even when he has an obvious chance to lead, he still shoots himself in the foot by waiting. Yet, isn't that what all of our glorious politicians do? Sure Bushy sucks, but don't they all. I sure love our "free" democracy that affords us the ability to vote true representatives of the people into office.

My only hope is that the Feds finally get it together and start restoring the Bayou to its previous glory. If only Katrina had somehow swooped down and speared (Ha - I am so very witty) my favorite white trash girl, B, I would at least have something to feel good about. Well, I still do. I still can get crunked to the filthy-dirty Cash Money & Big Tymers - "Number One Stunna" - so can you. I got a platinum football field, beeeeaaatcchhhh!

Cash Money & Big Tymers - Number One Stunna

I first read about director Todd Phillips in The Blowup Magazine. Phillips directed Old School and Road Trip. But his first film, one he made while at NYU film school, is entitled Hated and is a documentary on punk rocker G.G. Allin (Aug 29, 1956-June 28, 1993). I was lucky enough to view this disturbing film last night and I awoke this morning with it fresh on my mind.

For those that have never heard of Allin, well, I am not that surprised. Allin represented the most extreme of the punk rock scene, no doubt. He often performed naked on stage, venturing into the crowd, looking for someone to hit, crap, piss or spit on. He would also cut himself with a razor blade, a show of compassion, according to Allin, for all of the suffering that exists in the world today. Allin believed he was merely a vessel for pure, punk rock fury and that his excretions were filled with rock and roll goodness and should be shared with the audience. Maybe so.

So, what is real and what isn't? Was Allin, though obviously the incredible extreme, living life as a true Rock 'n' Roller should? Allin obviously hated the fake and unreal in music, so it is a safe bet he would not have showed up on MTV's Cribs or as a corporate shill selling Pepsi. He believed in living day to day, with less possessions than a homeless person. Would Mick Jagger embrace this lifestyle? How about Steven Tyler? These musicians are supposed to be the quintessence of Rock 'n' Rollers, why, just look at their longevity. I think Allin makes us ask why the hell are we allowing these 60 year-olds fellas to be relevant?

To sum, I think the reason that Allin was hated so much and jailed very often is because he made people look inward. This train wreck of a human, that took way too many drugs and lived harder than any of us could imagine made many realize that life is so damn short that all the things that we value and prioritze is most likely a pile of crap.

On that note, let's listen to some calm while thinking about whatever tickles our fancy. How about Boards of Canada, Turquoise Hexagon Sun? Yeah, that would be real nice.

Turquoise Hexagon Sun

I have only been in Chicago one week and been entertained by the Jack and Meg White of the White Stripes. Not too shabby a fashion to hurdle over hump day. Not that I am too weighed down by hump day, for that matter, considering my current employment status.

But, I digress, back to the review. First, the setting. Held in downtown Chicago's Auditorium Theatre, a classic feel was in the air before a note was played. The plush red carpet and the ornate architecture made for one of the best venues I have ever seen. Two years ago when I saw the devilish duo in Cincinnati, there was no set . This time, however, there was a much more complicated set design with a red background dominating everything, offset with splashes of white. The light setup was also much more intricate and added to the songs greatly.

As for the show, it was basically broken into two acts. Act one featured almost all of their new material off Get Behind Me Satan. Though I enjoyed this part of the set, I think the slower tunes such as "The Nurse" and "Forever for Her (Is Over for Me)" lost the crowd at some points. I, however, thoroughly enjoyed the usage of the xylophone and piano - nothing wrong with bringing down the lights and getting a little reflective Chicago. Sheesh. I can only suppose some people do not care about Jacky White's past woes with a Hollywood starlet. Upon exercising his Rene` demons, however, Jack saved the most rockin' tunes for the seond act.

With songs like "Take a Whiff on Me", "Seven Nation Army" and "Dead Leaves And the Dirty Ground", Jack and Meg provided a raocus finish to a great gig. Last, I know Ray-Ray said recently that Meg is a six or a seven after seeing her in person in NYC. But, after intently watching her pound on those skins for almost two hours, I have to upgrade her to at least an eight or a nine. Yummy. Update! Thanks to Dr. Bone, I can provide the three people that read this blog the set list from last night....

Blue Orchid
The Nurse
My Doorbell
Forever For Her
Little Ghost
The Denial Twist
White Moon
Instinct Blues
Passive Manipulation
Take Take Take (only the first couple verses, though)
As Ugly As I Seem (with some amazing new verses)
Red Rain
I'm Lonely

Encore/second half:

When I Hear My Name
Dead Leaves
Black Math
I Think i Smell a Rat (riff) > Take a Whiff on Me > Cannon riff
John the Revelator
Death Letter
Lafayette Blues!!!
St. James Infirmary Blues!!
Hardest Button to Button
Same Boy You've Always Known
Hotel Yorba
Seven Nation Army
Boll Weevil

What to post? Since I am a Leo and I am feeling all saucy, let's listen to Cannonball Adderley explain why Leo's need to spread their love. I can't make this crap up. It just falls into my lap.

Leo