Uppity-Negro.com

"Aaron Hawkins and Anastasia Beaverhousen are stupid characters, a couple of stoners who spout dumb-ass catch-phrases like a third rate 'Cheech and Chong' or 'Bill and Ted'. Fuck Uppity-Negro.com. Fuck them up their stupid asses."

Meh.

"Uppity-Negro.com is a terrible, one-note joke that only stoners laugh at. It's fucking clown shoes. If the person writing it were real, I'd beat the shit out of him or her or whatever the fuck it's claiming to be today for being so stupid. I can't believe Hostway would have anything to do with this shit. I, for one, will be boycotting this website. Who's with me?"

And then there were about fifty more posts from people who agree to join Spartacus here's boycott of the site.

I'm gonna kill all these fucks.

Went out with the Ghettofab Jessica and her posse last night. She made the utterly bizarre claims a) that I'm bitter and b) that she's the Mary and I'm the Rhoda.

Where do people get this shit, man?

Was going to offer to make her Raspberry Swirl in exchange for the name, but there were gay men present, and such talk tends to make them physically ill. Especially after downing $1 (or was it 1 penny?) pitchers of whatever domestic swill they were drinking last night.

Realize some people might be offended about being described on this site, but let's face it, what I write is so tangentially related to reality that I might as well be talking about fictional characters. F-I-C-T-I-O-N-A-L  C-H-A-R-A-C-T-E-R-S. Am I. . . am I getting through to you at all here?

Before that, spent the better part of the evening at the local Screenz trying, and failing, to get the newly battery-powered laptop to recognize a wireless card and connect to their WIFI network. Maybe telling it, "Bitch, you betta rec'nize" wasn't the best possible approach.

Even tried under Linux -- gent who worked there was a part-time Penguinhead. No Joy Luck Club. On the plus side, they didn't charge me for the more than an hour spent in their company, since I never did manage to actually connect up.

Other PCMCIA cards are recognized without problems; this was the one they offer for rent for those of us without the new technology. Guess I can just try a different one. . .

Also found out from the cute girl working there -- dance major from Columbia -- that Urban Bush Women, the company I been looking for info on, and who I was wondering where they were and why they ain't touring. . . are in residence at Columbia, were last year, and will be this year.

Basically, I been scouring the Internet, and they was right down the street the whole fucking time.

There's probably a moral to this story, but since I was also downing that cheap domestic swill last night, I'm still too fuzzy-headed to figure it out.

Update: You know, they may have a point. I mean, a web site called Uppity-Negro.com? Who in God's name would read something like that?

BrowserSpy -Basic Information

Eheh.

Would make that iframe prettier, but probably should do some actual work this morning. . .

Update: Right, almost forgot.

"Uppity-Negro.com and his stupid alter ego Aaron Hawkins only work in small doses, if at all. He doesn't deserve his own website."

Didn't realize it was a question of deserve, but whatevah.

Have I used that enough that it constitutes a dumb-ass catch-phrase?

Cuz this is my United States of Whatevah.

Update 2:

Javascript courtesy of BrowserSpy - Privacy to the ultimate test, and W3Schools JavaScript Browser Detection.

I'm too kind to pull info out of the cookie that stores your name, email and web site address, if you chose do save suchlike when you posted here as some point.

Ok, too lazy. Call it kindness as an act of kindness.

Posted by Aaron at 7:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Oh, grow the fuck up.

Sometimes, anger is rooted in someone having done shit to you that really pissed you off. Sometimes, it's rooted in seeing a friend make incredibly stupid choices like, picking an example totally at random, getting involved in another poly scenario when the previous one they were in ended so very well for all involved -- and how is Jana these days, anyway? -- ending up getting hurt, and never quite seeming to make any sort of connection between her dumb-ass choices and the consequences of those choices.

And since you, you, my friend, have apparently managed to push away everyone else in your life who's actually willing to give you a well-deserved foot in the ass, I guess it's up to me.

Joy. Just what I always fucking wanted.

I swear, the Buddhism and the psychobabble are just armor to avoid having to take any sort of responsibility for your shit. . .

Hiya, fellas.

I'm in a great mood today.

And since I'm starting to regret asking goneaway not to go after that Canadian fuck who decided "open posting" meant "posting a chicken-shit anonymous attack on somone's own site," this probably ain't a good time to fuck with me.

Not that there's ever a good time. . .

Posted by Aaron at 10:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

What a lot of fun
You guys have been real swell
And there's not a one
Who can say this ended well

All those secrets you've been concealing,
Say you're happy now -
Once More, With Feeling
Well I gotta run
See you all in hell

Well, you've just underutilized another perfectly good Free-For-All Friday reading Uppity-Negro.com. Our esteemed producer is Doug the subway fugitive not a slave to fashion bongo boy Berman, our Nutrition Consultants are Eaton Wright and Liven Good, our Head of Security is Barb Dwyer, our Interpretive Dance Instructor is Tristan Schaut, our Marriage Counselor is Marion Haste, and our Fact Checker is Ella Fynoe. We'll see you back here next month, and in the meantime, don't post like my brother.

Posted by Aaron at 5:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Free-For-All Friday

URL: http://www.uppity-negro.com/cgi-uppity-negro/mt.cgi

User: guest

Pass: guest

Other participants include:

Let's do it.

Sorry, y'all do it.

I'm keeping schtum.

Update: Historical revisionism on the time stamp, to move this to the top of the page, where it should remain until I turn the guest password off this evening.

Update 2: Sorted. Really, really should read Team Murder, or at least the MT site, more often.

Posted by Aaron at 11:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

Some funky, funky reggae riddums courtesy of DK & Jack Dangers over at the Dub Lab

In the middle of a cyber cafe where young ones game and scream to their red bull amped up hearts content, a man with a G4 laptop in the shop with a broken logic board sits and contemplates his life.

Jessica Simpson's video is playing on TRL. Rolling Stone magazine called her Housewife of the year.

Oh My God. She just stole a scene directly out of *nsync's Dirty Pop video. I'm so mad about that.

Did I just say that aloud?

Hmmmm.

Better get my grown-man on.

If you haven't been reading my space lately, you probably don't know that I'm really obsessed with Time right now.

I watched Frida with my sister today knowing that the artist died at age 47. The story begins when she is in her early twenties (approximately 21) and quickly I realize that the midpoint of her life happens when she's 23 and a half. The point at which there is more physical time behind her than in front of her.

The presentation of that time that Salma Hayek and Julie Taymor present suggests that she lived most of that time in both great pain and with great passion.

And I'm left wondering if both are necessary to truly make the most of my days.

I'm also wondering if a game called "HO Town" would cause the same shitstorm that ghettopoloy did.

I mean, if the pimps were multicultural and you could be a female pimp and maybe have some male ho's would people be upset?

I'm also wondering if a person could be both "pimp" and "ho" at the same time.

"Bitch, don't make me take off my shoe and beat...uh...myself with it."

Damn, that killed last night when everyone was in a food coma.

Hi, I'm Jason (aka Gunn aka Malcolm) of Negro Please and, apparently, I've lost my way.

Posted by Aaron at 6:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (1)

*Steps up to the mic, after stumbling over the cord and almost demolishing it*

I'm the dude that creeps in the blogosphere. I'm crawling out from under my rock, and so with the sun on my face, food in my belly, and computer on my lap, I present me- ej.

I've been reading Aaron's site for quite a long time. As I told one of my cohorts: 'I need to get off this "maybe i'll come off as someone mega-stupid" feeling'.

'Bout me? I'm a DePaulian BGM, mid-30s Technical Architect who touches everything and yet i'm the quiet one in the background. Case in point- if I were to cheer each time I read Aaron's posts, my throat would be hoarse. I'm musically inclined (via exponent) and yes, I watched Amelie myself.

I got a set of blog brothers and sisters and I travel once a month so yeah, I'll be up in your 'hood. I'm sure of it. World AIDS Day is coming, and that's part of my construct in the here and now.

I could post more, but considering I've been doing nothing but eating food all day, I should just collapse on the bed. But then, how could I possibly keep up with Uppity Negro?

*Slinks away....*

Posted by Aaron at 5:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm doing unto others rule in hopes that others will do unto me (baby).

Well. It's Friday. We are buying nothing, but are consuming lunch at IHOP with my best friend and going to see Elf (I'd rather see Bad Santa but there are small children who still believe involved) -- I don't know if that counts as buying something, but I spent eight straight hours cooking yesterday and you couldn't pay me enough to set foot in the kitchen today, not that you would, since you're not buying anything, either.

I'm also thinking about December's lay-out, which will probably be red ribbon themed, as Monday's World AIDS Day.

And I'm still basking in a tryptophan glow. I made my first turkey yesterday, it came out surprisingly well and while it was a lot more work than I'd thought, it was also much easier. I might do it again, though not any time soon.

Finally, I'm still wondering if this is the Aaron whose birthday was Monday; I just noticed it on my calendar, but I know half a dozen Aarons on- and off-line and there's no last name, just 'aaron' written in black Sharpie. If it is, hope it was great; if it's not, happy early birthday anyway.

-Gwen

Posted by Aaron at 3:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

This place has, among other flavors:

Ube - a Purle Yam flavor
Pumpkin Pie
Queso - Ice cream with Kraft Cheese slices mixed in
Cherry Vanilla - Vanilla with full cherries mixed in
Mango
Avacado
and about 40 other flavors.

Your asses need to go!

Almost forgot....I'm Redpac

P.S. Passport To Paris with the Olsen Twins is on ABCFamily right now!

Posted by Aaron at 1:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Why is no one taking all my bait about a certain ex of mine? Do you not know WHO I AM TALKING ABOUT? Because I keep linking to her, and making references to her work, her sexuality, her apartment, and her dog. So I'm probably being too subtle. It's one of my faults.

Listen, folks, this is some profound relationship analysis, in the form of Shakira lyrics, and links to Snopes.com! I'm being fuckin' introspective here! If you can call petty blaming statements and misplaced metaphors "introspective". Which if you're me, you can.

Reply to my entries! Hello! Pay attention to meeeeeeee! Don't you get it yet?

I can't think of any other reason people would be turning away from this train wreck.

Posted by Aaron at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

Try to keep up with me here, people.

Shakira - Objection

It's not her fault that she's so irresistible
But all the damage she's caused is unfixable
Every twenty seconds you repeat her name
But when it comes to me you don't care
If I'm alive or dead, so

Chorus:
Objection
I don't want to be the exception
To get a bit of your attention
Love is for free and
I'm not your mother
But you don't even bother
Objection
I'm tired of this triangle
Got dizzy dancing tango
I'm falling apart in your hands again
No way
I've got to get away

Next to her cheap silicone I look minimal
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invisible
But you've got to know small things also count
Better put your feet on the ground
And see what it's about, so

Chorus (with a slight change)
The angles of this triangle

I wish there was a chance for
You and me
I wish you could find our
Place to be
Away from here

This is pathetic
And sardonic
And sadistic
And psychotic
Tango is not for three
Was never meant to be
But you can try it
Rehearse it
Or train like a horse
But don't you count on me
Don't you count on me boy

Chorus

Now.

Let's say the line about silicone refers to, say, a strap-on rather than tits.

And that we do a gender substitution in the line, "I'm not your mother," given the statement:

It's become clear to me that I have some truly atrocious relationship patterns with men, patterns I can tie right back, in predictable Freudian form, to my relationship with my father.

I'd hoped to avoid the sledgehammer approach, but there seem to be some slow learners out there.

Posted by Aaron at 10:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

But I was checking the referrals, and saw this: Froogle Search: dominatrix.

[Update: Not on that page anymore, apparently, try this instead.]

Could someone. Please. Explain. What.

The.

Fuck.

That's about?

And why am I so cheap?

np: C'est si bon, The One True Catwoman Eartha Kitt

Unless you one of them Lee Meriwether heretics. Julie Newmar, I can accept.

If you even thinking about bringing up Michelle Pfeiffer, you need to get the fuck off my website.

Update: added links, corrected the spelling of Lee Meriwether's name, ignored search results for Pfeiffer's assless self.

Posted by Aaron at 9:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

From August 20, 2002. I mention the date to avoid any possible misunderstandings.

I just don't never learn, is the problem.

So The Girl sends me a venting email complaining about some guy who made a lewd comment at her when she was jogging that morning.

I am sensitive new-age guy, and a supportive friend, so I may have written back something along the lines of, "It's called a sports bra, look into it."

The message might have continued, "And technically, running back to your apartment from where-ever the fuck last night's one-night-stand lives isn't really jogging."

There could have been something along the lines of, "And you must have been barefoot, since you own no shoes that you could possibly run in. I'm not even sure how you walk.

"Although it is interesting to watch.

"Especially from the back."

So I should not have been surprised at the call. I let the machine get it. Freaks call me.

"I know you're home, and I know that cheap-ass machine only got like five minutes of record time, and if you think I don't have five minutes worth of shit to say, you got another think coming. . ."

I picked up. This was a mistake. I tried to say hello, but she cut me off.

"What are you doing now? Doesn't matter. We're going to Victoria's Secret."

I weighed my options.

"¿Que? No hablo ingles."

"Baka."

"I don't speak Japanese."

"I don't speak Spanish," she lied. "C'mon, we're burning daylight."

I weighed my options, and realized I had none. "When should I pick you up?"

"Not a problem. I'm on your back porch."

I hung up the phone and walked to the kitchen. She gave what could be described as a jaunty wave through the window.

Praying I'd locked the screen door for once, I opened the back door. No such luck. She walked in.

"Hey. You got any beer? Real beer, not that Goose Island shit you like so much?"

Anyone else, I would have asked if it wasn't a little early for that. In her case, I'm surprised she didn't go straight for the hard liquor. "Check the fridge. How did you know I was home?"

"I saw your car. Why you always park so far? Come back and get me."

". . ." I walked out the door and held the screen open. She just looked at me.

"What, you expect me to wait outside? It's hot. Drive around some to let the AC kick in."

Once the car was cool enough for her highness, we set off. She flipped through the cds in the glove compartment with an expression of open disgust.

"And why are we going to Victoria's Secret?"

"You the one told me to get a sports bra."

". . . I don't think they sell sports br--"

"You ever look? Or were you too busy playing with the frilly things? You sick fuck."

". . ."

"Or looking at the posters. Those women are airbrushed all to hell, you know. Real women have hair down th--"

"Find anything you wanted to listen to?" I tried. Vainly.

"Hell no. I didn't even know Lisa Germano had this many cds out. Why you want to listen to whiny women, anyway?"

". . . Couldn't you have gone with somebody else? Stacey?"

Another look of disgust. She has a range of them. "No, she'd drag me up in Lame Giant."

". . . Bryant."

"No," she sighed, "unlike some people, Brian has a job, and a life, and can't just drive off to Mall of America at the drop of a hat."

I turned on the radio.

At the mall, I looked at the map to try to figure out how to get to the place. She said, "Ok, Hot Topic. Let's go."

". . ."

"It's on the way," she insisted.

I looked at the map again. "I don't see the dimensional portal you're talking about."

"Ok, maybe you want to hang out here checking out the ghetto hoochie mama jailbait, but some of us have other stuff to do. C'mon, we're burning daylight."

"I wish you'd stop saying that."

"You started."

I tried reason. "You wanted to go to Chicago. Then when we got there, you didn't want to get up before noon."

"I was tired after the drive."

"I drove."

"And I wanted to swing by the Sanrio store too, while we're here."

". . . You couldn't have taken the bus?"

She gave me a cold look. "It's freaks on the bus."

I let it slide. Sometimes it's easier to just let it slide.

Later, outside Hot Topic, she wore a grin which could accurately be described as "shit-eating." Hating myself, I asked why.

"The cashier was hitting on you."

This was a change from her normal technique, which is accusing me of looking at other women when we're out. I asked why this was a problem, seeing as we're not dating, and she said it made her look bad.

I hang out with her for the material. I keep telling myself that.

"She was like 13. And no, she wasn't."

"Like you ain't notice how she leaned over the counter."

"There wasn't much there to notice. Except the freckles."

"You were checking her out? She was like 13, you sick fuck. And why you looking at other women when you're with me?"

"I hate you. I've mentioned this before, right?"

"And the way she practically massaged your hand when she gave you the change. What was up with that?"

"Which reminds me," I said, "how did you manage to `forget your purse' when it was your idea to come here in the first place?"

"Damn, I said I'd pay you back."

"You say that often. It happens less often."

Check the comments for the original entry. As usual, the contributions of others are better'n my pointless babbling. Thanks to Hanne for the (Stalinist revisionismed) correction on the Lame Giant name.

Posted by Aaron at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Damn it all.

The breathtakingly lovely Flash site(s) for Le fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain seem to have been lost to the ephemeral nature of the Web, or the failure of film studios to renew the domains for movies that are catalog material, or something. Major suckage; if you never saw 'em -- the French and English ones were very different, but both quite well-done -- you missed a treat.

Same thing if you haven't seen the movie yet. Which my moms still hasn't; I ended up looking at it alone in the living room while the rest of the fam watched judge shows in the kitchen.

Later, at dinner, suggestions were tossed around about which not-present other family members needs to get dragged onto one judge show or another so they finally cough up the cash they been owing.

(Ah, there is a site at http://video.movies.go.com/amelie/, but it's not nearly as good as the originals. Typical.)

Don't really care for the judge shows myself -- wretched displays of human desperation and misery, tortured emotions blatantly displayed for the amusement and mockery of the public. . . I'm being too sledgehammer-like again, ain't I?

Anyway, about that graphic and the title:

Confronted with the "twoness" of being both American and "Negro" in the United States, [William Alexander Brown, a free man of color and former ship's steward] demonstrated that African Americans did not have to privilege one cultural identity at the expense of the other. In fact, as a garden host and theatrical manager, Brown would attempt to represent all New Yorkers—African, European, Indian. From 1821 to 1823, Brown successfully but precariously integrated the U.S. stage and audience; provided African American actors complete yet frequently contested access to theatrical representation; rehearsed his black actors and audiences for full participation in public life; explored multiple but often conflicting European, African, and Indian performative identities; and showcased a New World Africanist aesthetic marked by skilled appropriations and unresolved hybridities. Brown's model national institution emerged in four specific stages or phases: an initial backyard pleasure garden on Manhattan's predominantly white West Side; the Minor Theatre on the fashionable and centrally located Park Row; the American Theatre in the remote Greenwich Village; and finally the African Company, featured in a brand-new Village theater. With each phase in this institutional journey, manager Brown encountered artistic, location, and audience challenges that can prove instructive for any truly diverse American theater.

In this study, I also contend that certain disapproving or dismissive Euro-Americans did not know how to "behave" at these mutually African and American entertainments. Although Brown enthusiastically celebrated the young nation's triracial and multiethnic potential, many white pessimists declared this overwhelming pool of multiplicity unworkable and undesirable. During America's early national period—the formative years between independence and the early 1830s—many Euro-Americans were unwilling to imagine an openly heterogeneous national character that embraced African Americans as legitimate cultural claimants. Specifically, competing white theatrical managers, incensed white newspaper editors, insecure white circus workers, and overzealous white patrons vehemently rejected Brown's intrepid participation in national self-definition. Even as this black impresario designed his entertainments for the pleasure of all Manhattanites, escalating racial divisions in nineteenth-century New York transformed his Minor, American, and African Theatres into exceptionally volatile and even dangerous social spaces. After a physical assault in August 1822, an irate William Brown allegedly responded to the rioters with a provocative sign, claiming that "Whites Do Not Know How to Behave at Entertainments Designed for Ladies and Gentlemen of Colour."

From, oddly enough, White People Do Not Know How to Behave at Entertainments Designed for Ladies and Gentlemen of Colour: William Brown's African and American Theater, by Marvin McAllister.

Amazing how little shit changes over a century or two, give or take.

Want to know more? Drop by http://fr.movies.yahoo.com/fc/amelie.html, and look for cognates, unless you're one of them bi(+)-lingual types. We don't like those here in America. If English was good enough for our lord and saviour Jesus Christ. . .

Posted by Aaron at 7:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, if nothing else, this sort of thing does give you a better idea of who your friends are.

Garrity, much love.

Hanne, much love.

Gray, you arrogant, self-righteous prick. No wonder the two of you get along so famously. Two choices, dog:

1. Oh, I'se powerful sorry, massa.
2. That's mighty white of you. Now fuck away off.

And while I'm on the subject, the agentless passive construction, "I realize you've been hurt" does not mean the same thing as "I realize I/he/she hurt you." At this point, I don't really consider the former to be a meaningful sentence of English, so if anyone else is thinking about tossing a sentence using that -- or the gerund -- my way, do me a little favor. Take that sentence, shine it up real nice, turn it sideways, and ram it up your candy cracka ass.

A similar request holds for starting off some shit with, "I understand [that]. . ."

Really.

Do you now.

Without having talked to me about any of this.

Your telepathy is impressive. Or, you don't understand jack shit, and need to shut the fuck up.

Finally, I am, in fact, still demonstrating an admirable amount of restraint. I've merely been tacky. I'm also capable of nigga-level tacky, and can approach, but not quite attain, gay black man level tacky. Wanna see?

Ain't think so.

A Very Merry Native American Genocide Day to all our readers.

Since there were no decent film suggestions -- useless Internet, anyway, where's that Al Gore fucker at? -- I just rented Amelie at Women & Children First yesterday. Only saw it once, in the theater, and figure it deserves a repeat viewing. And my moms hasn't ever seen it, and I think she'd like it.

No, I don't know why I'm supporting the local, independent, woman-owned, queer-friendly feminist bookstore either, seeing as I'm such a misogynist bastard. Guess it slipped my mind.

"Men in my life haven't been very friendly lately." Yeah, and you're just overflowing with the milk of human kindness, Miss My-Boundaries-Aren't-Being-Respected. Come down off the cross, sweetie, somebody needs the wood.

Posted by Aaron at 5:57 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

From Hey Ms. DJ :

Along with the equally formidable Heather, Dayhota and Lady D, Colette founded a collective called Superjane in their early days of DJing. These turntable wizards were already heavyweights in my mind after they made the cover of the music magazine XLR8R. Because of their precedence, and Chicago's prolific house-music scene (which, for house DJs, is like LA for actors) I had already made the decision to move to Chicago. I will never forget Luis' dismissive comment about Colette; it fueled me to get the hell out of San Diego.

Since the 1997 formation of Superjane, each member has successfully charged her individual career. Currently, in her new Los Angeles home, Colette Marino co-hosts a syndicated radio show called Maximum Rotation. Heather Robinson tours extensively around the world. In fact, her bookings were so jam-packed in Europe this month that I was unable to even interview her by email. Darlene Jackson, aka Lady D, is a full-time producer and touring DJ, and Shannon Lalongo, billed as Dayhota (which spells DJ in Spanish), does regular stints in Canada and the U.S. and has collaborated in the studio with the likes of Sombionx. Her first release arrives in the next couple of months on Chicago's Q Studios label. Together, this team of talent plans to unite for a relaunch of Superjane that will include a new website, tour, collective CD and possibly even a clothing line.

Quick Google only brought up a site for DJ Lady D; not sure the entire group, or other individual members, have 'em.

Well, you kids can do your own research for once.

Like the title says, they're spinning tonight at Smart Bar. $10 before midnight / $15 after midnight. Not sure I'll be heading to the show, but anyone who does, enjoy.

Update: Oh, right, there should be something here about sexism in the house dj community, and the use of sex appeal by women djs, and, um, lots of the usual sort of pretentious pseudo-intellectual babbling that I usually use to claim fair use by way of commentary. You've read enough of this to generate your own at this point, I'm sure.

Posted by Aaron at 3:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, people, let's get this shit out the way. I leave work early today, and gots to drive out to the Skokie Gateway Country store to pick up the replacement battery for the laptop Nubian goddess Garrity donated to the cause.

So you wanna tell me what a misogynist, evil ex, cruel and hurtful blah de fucking blah I am, get it off your chest right here, right now.

Ain't no Alf marathon, but I had to tape the Shania concert last night, and it isn't going to watch itself.

Did catch a bit of the end. The goofy grin on Alison's face while they did the AC/DC cover made it all worth it.

Speak.

Update: As anyone who's taken an ecology course knows, fires are a natural, and in fact necessary, part of the life cycle of a forest.

Trying to prevent them just means building up more dead wood and other fuel, so when they do finally rage, they tend to be bigger, hotter and more destructive than they should be.

This is our forest fire.

And it should have happened a long time ago.

This has been your sledgehammer-like metaphor for the day.

Posted by Aaron at 10:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (1)

As you might have gathered, I'm finally willing to write about. . . certain events of several months ago.

It's Spring Cleaning for the soul. Only, um, in late November.

C.P.T., don't ya know.

Any road up, one of the reasons I left Minneapolis back in May, other than being dumped for someone my ex met on the Internet -- and that I drove her to her first date with, come t'think of it -- and who dumped her ass like a bad habit shortly after I left -- and if you don't think I felt just the tiniest bit of schadenfreude about that, given I got a teary, crying-on-virtual-shoulder phone call about it, you're confusing me with someone much closer to Sainthood -- damn, how many embeds is that? -- right, start over.

One of the reasons I left is that a one bedroom, no matter how spacious, just wasn't big enough for two adults and three cats.

Oh, and a pug.

Not that I really miss that annoying, yappy little bitch.

[wait for it]

[wait. . . for. . . it]

Or Sofia.

Alternate title: Here, My Dear.

Unfortunately:

Claim:   Ordered by a judge to hand over all the profits from his next album to his ex-wife as part of a divorce settlement, singer Marvin Gaye deliberately recorded a wretched album designed to sell poorly, which he sardonically entitled Here, My Dear.

Status:   False.

Damn. Another perfectly good gag, ruined by the facts. And I grew up hearing that story. . .

Posted by Aaron at 9:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Haven't been making too many of these lately. And since I've been given to understand that the Negro making OJ jokes about his problems with his white ex skirt the boundaries of good taste in a fashion similar to the Nazis skirting the boundaries of France during World War II [see below], I'll just substitute.

So. Ahem.

"Filipinas and Koreans are the only Azian sistas with hips, explaining my disturbing fixation with Margaret Cho and Tina Kim."

Discuss.

As I said, I've been told such comments are in poor taste.

If I have ever said or done anything which would lead visitors to the understanding that I'm interested in observing the conventions of good taste, I apologize unreservedly for leaving this mistaken impression.

Because I'm so not.

Thank you for your kind attention.

Posted by Aaron at 6:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Oh, come on, you must have seen that one coming.

As the fam will be trapped together over Thanksgiving, and god forbid we actually talk to each other, I'm looking for movie recommendations. Things the entire family can enjoy.

Meaning I'll be putting off my rental/viewing of Antonia's Line for a bit, I think.

Actually, since it's probably just my moms and two sisters, maybe that one would work. . .

So. Seen any good movies lately, that are out on video?

np: A Love Before Time, CoCo Lee, CTHD soundtrack

Posted by Aaron at 3:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

It bothers me that the preview for The Last Samurai that I saw before Matrix Revolutions made the thing look tempting.

Luckily, Secret Asian Man is here to disabuse me of these fool notions.

I'll just avoid seeing what angry asian man has to say about it.

I mean, I can probably guess.

Posted by Aaron at 2:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (11) | TrackBacks (0)

I refuse to add to the previous monster of an entry just to mention that the mix disc also features The Staple Singers doing "Let's Do It Again."

So I note this here. And will make sure the thing is done before hitting that tempting little SAVE button.

Not that the world needs to know I also put Lords of Acid's I Must Increase My Bust on the thing.

I'm not sure I need to know this, in fact.

And that's the end. Thank the Nubian goddesses.

Luckily, I have another.

I'll spare you the track list this time.

You're welcome.

Update: This is so unfortunate.

Forgot to mention Life In Mono by Mono:

The stranger sang a theme
From someone else's dream
The leaves began to fall
And no one spoke at all
But I can't seem to recall
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue
I just don't know what to do
The tree -lined avenue
Begins to fade from view
Drowning past regrets
In tea and cigarettes
But I can't seem to forget
When you came along
Ingenue
Ingenue |
I just don't know what to do | X4
Ingenue
REPEAT TO FADE

. . . this is the mix that launched a thousand psychotherapy dissertations, isn't it?

Sweet creeping zombie Jesus.

Ok, we're going to pretend that I didn't also forget the live version of Tori's "Tear In Your Hand," because this just keeps getting more disturbing.

Margaret Cho is much better at this sort of thing.

Wish I was there to sing it to you, to replay a verse missed, to look in your eyes to see how a certain phrase affected you, hold your hands and just listen and love the music. I will make you more in time. This is just the one I made today and it felt good to me and so I wanted to share it with you.

Go visit her place instead.

Posted by Aaron at 1:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'll just be watching for fashion hints:

Alison Krauss + Union Station will be the backing band for a Shania Twain television special scheduled to air Tuesday, November 25th on NBC. The hour-long show will feature Shania hits, as well as, songs from her new album.

From the news page of the Official Site of Alison Krauss + Union Station.

No joy for me on the tour dates page, but readers in Mobile, Alabama and Choctaw, Mississippi finally have something to gloat about.

Enjoy it. I'm sure this will be your last opportunity.

ObAlison:

I always figured she was a cute, intelligent woman doing vaguely folky music, and therefore must be a dyke. But I'm just twisted that way. I'm working on it.

Still working on that one, I'm afraid.

Update: Images from Shania Twain: Up! Close and Personal.

No, that's definitely not going to work. I have hips, for a start. . .

np: Um, it's a mix, so Stan Ridgeway performing "The Cannon Song" when I started, and currently. . . Marilyn Manson doing "Beautiful People."

I mentioned the weird mood, yes?

Update: Which transitioned gently into NWA's Dopeman and Straight Outta Compton.

And when I see a punk pass, I smile
To me it's kinda funny, the attitude showin a nigga drivin
but don't know where the fuck he's going, just rollin

The mood was in effect when I was making this particular mix, I think.

Oy. Followed by Over the Rhine doing Little Blue River.

every step that you've been taking
is straying a little further south
as for me I am so tired of living (babe)
so hand-to-mouth

And the title is from the Edie Brickell & New Bohemians cover of A Hard Rain's A-Gonna Fall.

Note to self: stay away from the mp3s when feeling like this.

Next up, Kronos Quartet, Kyoko's House (Stage Blood Is Not Enough).

If you're keeping track of my obviously degenerating mental state.

Next: Heroes, Kronos Quartet performing with David Bowie.

I should label these things. But I guess that would ruin the surprise.

The next surprise:

Wendy?
Yes Lisa
Is the water warm enough?
Yes Lisa
Shall we begin?
Yes Lisa

Computer Blue, The Artist Formerly Known as The Artist Formerly Known as and the Revolution, including Wendy and Lisa. So you can almost understand that being followed by "She's Always In My Hair." Almost.

This doesn't explain The Immortals doing Sonya (Go Go Go) coming next, though.

Or the remix of Michael Jackson's Smooth Criminal with Wu-Tang Clan.

Or 2pac and Dr. Dre doing California Love.

Or the original album version of Sting & The Police's Don't Stand So Close to Me. Not that I liked the P.Diddy thing, but prefered the remake from the Best Of album. . .

Oh good. This is followed by some nice, relaxing Shakira.

It's not her fault that she's so irresistible
But all the damage she's caused isn't fixable
Every twenty seconds you repeat her name
But when it comes to me you don't care
If I'm alive or dead, so

[Chorus:]
Objection
I don't want to be the exception
To get a bit of your attention
I love you for free,
And i'm not your mother
But you don't even bother
Objection
I'm tired of this triangle
Got dizzy dancing tango
I'm falling apart in your hands again
No way
I've got to get away

Next to her cheap silicone I look minimal
That's why in front of your eyes I'm invis -- ok, I stop now.

Ah. Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Were Made For Walking. Boy, the subtle workings of my subconscious are a mystery, aren't they? Christ. What next? Peter Gabriel's Sledgehammer?

As it turns out, no, belle and sebastian covering The Byrds' "Turn Turn Turn."

I'm taking the headphones off, and stepping away.

Final update, I think: Rounding out the disc, Bowie doing Dance Magic Dance from the Labyrinth soundtrack, and newly free man Slick Rick with Bedtime Story.

Right, definitely label these things in future, so I know to avoid them.

Spoke too soon. Also Drowning Pool with "Bodies."

Yes, I'm totally inconsistent with the quotes around song titles. Deal.

Posted by Aaron at 10:10 AM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

Ripped some code off from Team Murder to put an MT-Search (and DJ Pete Niiiiiiiiice) box on the main page. Except the results page uses the lovely design for C.L.I.T., for some reason. I will ask Michelle about this after Turkey Day; she's kind'a busy right now.

And apparently, I will be the last person from the web that she meets in RL. All right then. Fine. I see how it is.

Apropos of nothing:     Hyperballad - Björk (with the Brodsky Quartet)

We live on a mountain
Right at the top
There's a beautiful view
From the top of the mountain

Every morning I walk towards the edge
And throw little things off
Like car-parts, bottles and cutlery
Or whatever I find lying around
It's become a habit
A way to start the day

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

It's real early morning
No-one is awake
I'm back at my cliff
Still throwing things off
I listen to the sounds they make
On their way down
I follow with my eyes 'til they crash
Imagine what my body would sound like
Slamming against those rocks
When it lands
Will my eyes
Be closed or open?

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

I go through all this
Before you wake up
So I can feel happier
To be safe up here with you

Safe up here with you
Safe up here with you
Safe up here with you

From August of last year. Seemed appropriate, for some reason.

But np: King Nothing, Metallica (KMFDM remix)

Weird mood today.

And having odd flashbacks.

Ignore me.

Posted by Aaron at 9:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

And that was on VHS, so I don't feel too much like a tool for wanting this:

[click for an unnecessarily larger version]

More info from Sony Pictures, if you needed any.

For instance, if you bought one of the previous DVD releases. . .

Posted by Aaron at 1:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Just tell me what you've got to say to me,
I've been waiting for so long to hear the truth,
It comes as no surprise at all you see,
So cut the crap and tell me that we're through.

Now I know your heart, I know your mind,
You don't even know you're being unkind,
So much for all your highbrow Marxist ways,
Just use me up and then you walk away,
Boy you can't play me that way.

Well I guess what you say is true,
I could never be the right kind of girl for you,
I could never be your woman.

When I saw my best friend yesterday,
She said she never liked you from the start,
Well me, I wish that I could claim the same,
But you always knew you held my heart.
And you're such a charming handsome man,
Now I think I finally understand,
Is it in your genes?, I don't know,
But I'll soon find out, that's for sure,
Why did you play me this way?

Well I guess what you say is true,
I could never be the right kind of girl for you,
I could never be your woman.

Well I guess what they say is true,
I could never spend my life with a man like you,
I could never be your woman.

From White Town :: Lyrics, specifically for Your Woman from the album Women In Technology.

And from the FAQ:

I love 'Your Woman' *BUT* what is it about??? Are you a man/woman/transsexual?

Ummmm...well, that's a toughie. When I wrote it, I was trying to write a catchy pop song that had more than one perspective. Although it's written in the first person that viewpoint isn't the same as it may sound. So, these are *some* of the things it's about:

• Being a member of an orthodox Trotskyist / Marxist movement (as I was for three years in the 80s).
• Being a straight guy in love with a lesbian (ditto).
• Being a gay guy in love with a straight man.
• Being a straight girl in love with a lying, two-timing, fake-ass Marxist.

Was going to write something about that Facets of Gender Identity post over at Alas, a blog, but there's that whole lack of coffee thing to deal with first.

Update: And only $11.75 at Parasol. What a bargain. What a bargain for me.

Posted by Aaron at 10:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (33) | TrackBacks (0)

But I felt that was going a bit far. Will mention that Remembrance of the Daleks and Battlefield are about the only episodes I'd actually consider renting or buying.

Any road up, from BBC Online - Doctor Who - The Doctors - Sylvester McCoy:

The seventh Doctor could be dark and manipulative, secretive and angst-ridden, keeping his cards very close to his chest and only allowing others to glimpse a fraction of his true motives and aims. He could also be unpredictable and flippant, enjoying teasing others with his apparent lack of concern when, inside, he was plotting and scheming a way to save everyone.

I'm all about the angst. You may have noticed this.

Reminded of the anniversary, as ever a day late and a dollar short, by a post at Elayne's and the linkage therein to budgie's squawks - Thirty Years Ago... Ten Years On... .

Want to know more?

Geek.

How about the McCoy section of the Doctor Who Drinking Game, then?

DRINK A SHOT EVERY TIME...

• Sylvester McCoy rrrrrrrolls an 'r'.
• Ace says "wicked", "Gordon Benett", etc
  (Double shot for "Ace!")
• Ace blows something up
  (Double shot if the Doctor uses Ace's nitro to blow something up)
• the Doctor uses his umbrella to save the day.
• you sight any "Unearthly Child" in-joke in "Remembrance of the Daleks"
• Ace's current love interest dies.
• "GhostLight" confuses you.
• the line that comes out of Sylvester McCoy's mouth is clearly NOT the one in the script.

Come t'think of it, might get Survival too, if they release it. . .

Posted by Aaron at 10:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Somehow, me, my sis and Pantalones Calientes managed to get in to see Teatro Luna's "The Maria Chronicles" last night. Possibly because someone else who reserved tickets ain't get there early enough. Hey, you snooze, you lose.

The show was hilarious. And touching. And slighly horrifying, considering the "Based on true stories" nature of the vignettes. Plus, it had gratuituous snarky remarks about Filipinos/as, always a good thing. I cannot recommend it highly enough.

Especially since the final performance is this afternoon at 2.

So I hope you're reading this fairly early in the day.

I picked up some buttons with the ¡Nalgonas Unidas! slogan, two of which were taken by the kids I saw the show with (but only one of which was paid for, come t'think of it. . .[which may have to do with the fact that I looked at the selection of colors and said, "Huh. Pink. Femme. Which is neither of you." They threatened to leave me stranded in Pilsen. If this does not frighten you, clearly you ain't ever been up in Pilsen.]). So I have two more, and am wondering who to grace them with.

Since, as I've mentioned before, I know very few assless women.

I'm tempted to give it to one of those few.

One who doesn't speak Spanish.

Moo hoo ha ha.

What should I tell her it means?

Posted by Aaron at 9:13 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Right, sort of a grab-bag entry. No, that's not the expression I want. Um.

Ok, first off, thanks to Vickie for getting a photo of me with Happy Rhodes at the show last week.

Shame it's the most unflattering photo of myself I've seen in ages, but I'm going to chalk this up to bad lighting. And too many Vodka & Red Bulls before and during the show, which, since this is me, means two. You can click the above image and get a larger version of the photo, but I can't imagine why anyone would.

Wait, to get a better look at Happy. Sillly question.

Ripped more code off from Mandarin Design, since I finally noticed the problem some folks had described in IE in 800 x 600. Or rather, in Avant Browser, since I was missing my tabbed browsing in IE. Seems like a nice program so far; give it a try if you have some odd phobia abut Mozilla and Opera and the like.

Also installed Spybot - Search &. Destroy, since no matter how pretty Avant is, it's still the IE engine under the hood. And that engine needs some serious work in some ways. If your browser's been acting up lately (resetting your home page, bringing up random popup ads, calling the Cayman Islands), you maybe wanna give it a try.

Oh, and removed Tina the Troubled Teen from the sidebar, since she was part of the problem with some visitors not being able to see the sidebar. Guess I could make it a wee bit wider to accomodate the image (since resizing the image with width didn't work very well). Or ask Michelle about this instead of doing even more damage to her lovely design. Or something.

Speaking of whom, after I whined pathetically about it, she changed the archives pages so they display the number of comments for an entry, and you can click the number to bypass whatever I was banging on about and go straight to the only interesting part of this place, what other people had to say in response.

And that's it, I'm off to get more Red Bull. Without the vodka. I swear.

Posted by Aaron at 12:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (12) | TrackBacks (0)

From Roger Ebert's review of Looney Tunes: Back in Action:

Let me tell you a personal story involving Daffy Duck, which also takes place on the Warners lot. I quote from an interview I did with Albert Brooks in 1991, when his new movie "Defending Your Life" was about to be released.

As I was getting up to leave his office, Brooks said, "Look at these funny coffee mugs the studio sent over."

He had four or five of them on a shelf, cups shaped like the Warners cartoon heroes.

"Here," he said. "Have one. I want you to have one."

He pressed Elmer Fudd into my hands.

"No, that's OK," I said.

"Take one. What is this, a bribe? They're worth 10 cents apiece; 25 cents, tops."

"You know," I said, looking at the shelf, "I've never really been a fan of Elmer Fudd. My hero has always been Daffy Duck."

Brooks took the Daffy Duck mug from the shelf.

"Here, take it," he said. "I want you to have it. Really."

I could tell from the subtle intonation in his voice exactly what had happened. He had given me Elmer Fudd because he didn't like Elmer Fudd, either. He liked Daffy Duck. I had taken his favorite mug.

"No, you keep Daffy," I said. "I'll bet it's your favorite."

"Come on, come on," he said. "Take Daffy Duck. Take the one you want."

I tried to put Daffy back on the shelf. He pressed Daffy into my hands. I left with Daffy, but I would have bet a hundred bucks that the moment I was out of his office, Brooks had his secretary call Warners to see if they could send another Daffy Duck over.

The moral of the story is, rent "Defending Your Life" instead.

Or Roger is turning into one of those old guys who ramble on and on telling stories without morals.

You know.

Like bloggers.

np: Collective Heart, The Keep, Happy Rhodes

Posted by Aaron at 4:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

There's a new saint in Russia, a martyr in the war with Chechnya. The New York Times had it on the front page today, and I'd do the linky thing, but I have no mad html skilz, and there you are.

I find it astonishing, though, that the icons of this martyr feature him in full fatigues, AK in hand, and, as is traditional, haloed. I am fascinated by the ability of the cult of the saints to give devout Catholic and Othodox Christians the symbols they need in the moment to encapsulate their feelings about -- well, about pretty much anything. That's why I've falling into studying it for a living. But I do have to kind of blink when the image involved is so clearly aggressive.

Let me step out of my scholarly-analytical mode, which comprehends everything because of context, and into my hippe-pacifist-religious-philosophy mode, which clings to basic concepts of human dignity, and say this: carry an AK into Chechnya for Jesus? That's some fucked up shit right there.

I do feel very sad for his mother, though. She claims his icon weeps perfume to warn her when impending travel is dangerous. It's sad that she has nothing and no one better to care for her, to protect her.

Posted by Aaron at 2:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

THIS IS NOBUO UEMATSU
  You'll need Japanese fonts installed, I'm afraid. And you missed the orchestral performances of Final Fantasy video game soundtrack music a few months ago.

Various Artists - Parasol's Sweet Sixteen Volume 7
  Bettie Serveert, The Vertebrats, Absinthe Blind and it costs five bucks

*jerra.com*
  I ain't even gonna try to explain this one. . .

Posted by Aaron at 2:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, I have a craving for okonomiyaki.

I don't think even Yaohan/Mitsuwa serves the stuff.

Anyone know of a restaurant in Chi that does? Preferably inexpensive and located up north?

Oh, and you have to appreciate how politely this says, "Fuck you, Yanqui pigs":

WOMAD USA 2003

WOMAD had hoped very much to be returning to Marymoor Park, King County, WA once more this summer. However, unfortunately it has not been possible to finalise plans for a WOMAD USA festival this year.

We'd like to take the opportunity to apologise for any disappointment caused, and to say that we very much appreciate the messages of support and concern which we have had from so many WOMAD attenders in the USA.

Until further plans for WOMAD in the USA are confirmed, it's not possible for us to answer queries about possible participation at WOMAD USA from artists, traders and contracters. If you would like to join our emailing list for updates, please send your email address to: info@womad.org

In the meantime, many thanks for your support and patience and we'll be sure to keep you updated on future WOMAD festivals in the USA.

Ah well, maybe one of Chicago's sister cities rates. . .

In the meantime, I could visit The Buddhist Temple of Chicago and think on this. Or drive down to the Prairie Zen Center in beautiful Shampoo-Banana.

Or I can be bitter.

I'm gonna go for bitter. Why change the habits of a lifetime now?

Posted by Aaron at 1:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

This is the strip mentioned in the following entry, using the MT thumbnail-popup thingee. It's also violating the copyright of the late Charles M. Schulz, which is why I expect it'll be going away soon. I really just wanted to see if I could resize it to fit, without rendering it illegible.

Don't think I succeeded at that, but click for a full-size version. If you allow pop-ups, that is.

Update: Gee, dummy, why not use the original full-size image and resize it to fit using the width and height attributes of the img tag? Damn, I'm stupid sometimes. . .

Posted by Aaron at 11:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Was going to just link the image, but a) it's too long to fit comfortably on the page and b) ah hates bandwidth theft.

So, hit the link for Words of Wisdom from the O[riginal] V[an] P[elt].

And she only asks five cents for this. She just don't know. . .

Posted by Aaron at 10:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Turned on a guest account. The username? guest. The password? guest. Just hit the link, sign in, and the mike is yours.

Obviously, anything I consider to be an abuse of this will be ruthlessly deleted. I will be watching -- this is Negropanopticon.com, among other things -- but am curious to see what develops.

Step up to the mike and say what's on your mind.

In other words, it's (not quite) Free-For-All Friday again.

Go on, give it a go.

Update: Bob Dylan: All Along the Watchtower

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief,
"There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief.
Businessmen, they drink my wine, plowmen dig my earth,
None of them along the line know what any of it is worth."

"No reason to get excited," the thief, he kindly spoke,
"There are many here among us who feel that life is but a joke.
But you and I, we've been through that, and this is not our fate,
So let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late."

All along the watchtower, princes kept the view
While all the women came and went, barefoot servants, too.

Outside in the distance a wildcat did growl,
Two riders were approaching, the wind began to howl.

Seems apropos. And I just listened to the Jimi Hendrix cover.

Posted by Aaron at 5:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

  Yakusoku wa Iranai (Promises Not Necessary)

Performed by: Sakamoto Maaya
Composed and Arranged by: Yohko Kanno
Lyrics by: Youho Iwasato
Version: Full
Transcribed by: Perry

Lyrics from Digital Angels' Anime Shrine - Lyrics - Escaflowne - Yakusoku wa Iranai - Full Version.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: VASpider

Posted by Aaron at 2:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (15) | TrackBacks (0)

All right then. Fine.

Tired of drifting aimlessly through life, I've decided to set some vague, utterly impossible goal for the future. Just to give me something to regret not doing anything about as I drift aimlessly.

No, this is me being optimistic.

So, I pulled up the Chicago Sister Cities International Program web site and decided to visit each of our Sister Cities. These are:

Warsaw, Poland
Osaka, Japan
Milan, Italy
Casablanca, Morocco
Shenyang, China
Shanghai, China
Gothenburg, Sweden
Accra, Ghana
Prague, Czech Republic
Kyiv, Ukraine
Toronto, Canada
Mexico City, Mexico
Vilnius, Lithuania
Birmingham, England
Hamburg, Germany
Petach Tikva, Israel
Paris, France
Athens, Greece
Durban, South Africa
Galway, Ireland
Moscow, Russia

(Their site seems to be broke, so the list is from Chicago Sister Cities - MapPoint Gallery - MP2K Magazine, which has a very nice image of the planet with the cities marked)

Looking over the list, I realized there's a distinct difference between a vague, utterly impossible goal and being just plain silly.

So I narrowed it down. To one.

It's a beautiful day, according to the Weather Underground: Osaka, Japan Forecast. And there are some interesting-looking installations at the National Museum of Art, Osaka.

So, I'll have a look 'round the Consular Section of the American Consulate General Osaka-Kobe, Japan, figure out that whole passport/visa thing, try to find somewhere to stay at Osaka-Japan.com, you know, working out the details of the vague, utterly impossible goal as a substitute for actually, you know, trying to attain it or anything.

Suppose I could start by finally seeing Lost In Translation. . .

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Neogrammarian

Because I'm going to drag her along on the trip. She just don't know it yet.

Posted by Aaron at 11:41 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

From the comments of the entry I forgot the votive candles, because I suck:

drublood:

I'm sure there's something serious I want to say about this post, but I'm cramping and my morning isn't going so well, so I'm going to have to wait until later.

Is there a reason why you always link to me when I'm on the rag? It's a pheremone thing, right?

Me:

Well, that's when you're most entertaining.

From a safe distance.

Like several states away.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: drublood

Posted by Aaron at 11:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

You are the blue line. You're a tough nut to crack.
Truth is, you're just plain weird. You hop
around town on a whim; you can't make up your
mind about anything. What you need is to settle
down for a minute or two. Take a deep breath
and you'll be fine.

Which Chicago 'El' line are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

See, this is why I don't take those things. Or at least don't post the results when I do.

As with most of the evil and suffering in the world, this comes to you courtesy of the Ghettofabulous Jessica.

This did remind me to submit this monstrosity to Chicago Blogmap, so I guess it's worth it.

Ok, it's not. I shut up now.

Added locussolus to the sprawling list. Go visit.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: The Ghettofabulous Jessica

Posted by Aaron at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, the next official Free-For-All Friday is a week from tomorrow, November 28th.

Since I may be out and about that day, and am somewhat leery of leaving the place open with no adult supervision, I'll be having one tomorrow instead.

Since I realize I was a bit sketchy on the details last time:

Rules:

1. Please keep it somewhat clean...if you don't think I would post it, don't. God forbid if I find spam or porn links...
2. Feel free to link your blog...just make sure you say who you are. (sign your post)
3. I reserve the right to edit/delete inappropriate posts (or those with really obvious spelling mistakes)
4. Have fun!

That's from the sample post, which I suppose I could quote in full, or edit to something more appropriate, or. . . something.

For example, I'm hardly one to talk about spelling mistakes.

I'm also not particularly bothered by porn links, as long as they're to good porn. Let's keep the spirit of International Protection from Crappy Porn Week of Resistance in our hearts all the year 'round.

np -- know your chicken, VIVA! La Woman, Cibo Matto

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Garrity

Posted by Aaron at 9:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, from the recent deluge I'm guessing a new set of FRESH LEADS cds has gone out to the spammer community, including addresses harvested from my old address book. Apologies to anyone who signed it with their real address, and to anyone who currently has an uppity-negro.com redirect addy. I can turn that off for you if you'd like; just let me know.

I'm also going to be using a different, thus-far-unpublished address as my primary one from now on, and also switched to a much-improved web interface with my ISP. Between these two, any messages sent to me recently may have, um, gone missing.

So if I haven't replied to something you sent recently, it's not just my normal rudeness and inability to respond promptly, I may not have received it.

Of course, putting the new address here for you to send it to would rather defeat the purpose, so re-send to the old one, and I'll try to look for names I recognize. Try to avoid subjects like "Hi" or anything mentioning mortgage rates or herbal Viagra, huh?

Oh, and have installed Thunderbird. And am loving it, even if it did choke on the 3000+ messages for the default email account for the site. All of which appear to be spam. Go figure.

Am trying not to think about what this might mean for blogs, and will avoid reading anything linked from Team Murder in future, unless I'm wanting to have my day ruined, thankyouverymuch.

Well, I'm setting up filters in t-bird, and so far MT-Blacklist is working. So.

More pretense and polite fictions for me, for the nonce.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Yoon

Posted by Aaron at 8:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Go read Sparkneedle.

And provide some positive reinforcement/feedback/comments on Matt's photos.

It's not like you have anything better to do if you're here, after all.

Or, if you're looking for something more disturbing in your art, try wood s lot.

Or not. Up to you.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Spike

Posted by Aaron at 6:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, need to replace my Smith College t-shirt, which is pretty much at the "good for a rag and not much else" stage, and figure I might as well get one from each of the Seven Sisters while I'm at it. Anybody know offhand if there's an online store where I can order those? Not feeling a road trip right now, even if the weather (in Chicago, at least) is gorgeous.

What?

Oh, right, winter is coming. Guess I could get hoodies, but those'd be a lot more expensive for all seven. . .

np -- Pensacola, Relish, Joan Osborne

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Jessica Skolnik

Posted by Aaron at 2:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

The Last World of Fire and Trash, a new poem at (where else?) Joy Harjo's Web Log.

Picnic, Lightning, by Zadie Smith, by way of the Good Twin's a2g.

Latina Queen: Recognizing the Queen in you and setting her free:

Have you noticed that women will at times describe themselves as princesses, but never as Queens? A princess is usually a girl or a woman who is still dependent on others for her livelihood. She usually lives in a lap of luxury, but exerts no real power over her domain. Pampered and doted on, princesses become nothing but mere trophies showcased to display power and superiority. The gold chains lavished upon her end up imprisoning her. A Queen, on the other hand, is a fully developed woman who recognizes her power and takes complete personal responsibility for her life. A Queen has the capability to carry out absolute rule over her realm. The time has come for Latinas to begin identifying themselves as “Queens” and begin living their lives as they choose.

This seminar is designed to empower Latinas to take personal responsibility for their happiness and self-esteem.

Yes, I'm being random again.

Except the first two.

np -- We Have Explosive, The Future Sound of London, Wipeout XL Soundtrack

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: gujari girl

Posted by Aaron at 1:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, not sure you have to register with the soon-to-be-gone MP3.com to listen to these, but trust me, it's worth it. I give you my word as a Negro.

These tracks aren't on mp3.com/InterlockRecords, but I have 'em in my vault or collection or whatever they're calling it.

• "Heiruspecs - Life as a superhero"
• "Muad'dib - Dune"

They're both good. Very, very good. Saw the band live during one of those pre-movie-in-the-park shows in Minneapolis last summer, and loved 'em. One name-drops Doctor Doom, the other is all about the Kwisatz Haderach

Yes, it's comics/SF geek rap. With a live backing band. Like so many things, this reveals much about me, yes, but isn't that why people keep blogs?

I don't know. I still haven't read Rebecca's book. Because I suck.

Update: Sorry, mentioned this because the group/song came playing A Quick Mix from My.MP3.com. Currently it's the beauty of Karma Sutra, who I haven't plugged in, what, almost a week?

Yes, I'm Preston Klik's bitch. Sue me.

Update again: Now listening to the Speed / Terror Core station. Can't say as I'm impressed with the DJs selections so far but. . . wait, that's right, I don't listen to this stuff. Never mind.

Is it a dusties station up in this mug?

This entry dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Rebecca Blood

Posted by Aaron at 10:54 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, Hanne promises us blogging, but apparently feels that paying work and RL commitments take priority. Honestly. Some people. Any day now, my Evil Insurance Company employer is going to figure out that I shouldn't be visiting her new site from work either.

Well, I'm sure if we all apply peer pressure, we'll. . . convince her not to bother doing it at all.

I shut up now.

And direct readers to her Amazon Listmania thingee. It's like the DVD commentary on books, only not.

Could make a comment about the title, "Confessions of an Unrepentant Cocktease," but prefer to keep living, thank you very much.

np -- Sunburnt, The Moon Seven Times

This entry dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Hanne Blank

Posted by Aaron at 9:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Wondered why it was so many pissed-off Latin Queens dropping by lately. Yano linked here a few days back.

Darlin', you're a married woman. You needs to quit bangin' now. I'm sure your old crew are great folks, but. . .

Actually, wait, timeline doesn't add up on that. Who linked a few days before that?

Oh.

Elayne, you're a married woman. You needs to quit bangin' now. I'm sure your old crew are great folks, but. . .

Sorry, I kid, I kid.

We all know this is the Ghettofabulous Jessica's fault.

This entry dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Yano

Posted by Aaron at 9:07 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, not breath, since I'm typing, not speaking, but you know what I mean.

At least I hope you do, since that's the point of this particular entry.

The website you're currently reading, Uppity-Negro.com, may contain material based on hyperbole, exaggeration for humorous effect, deliberate rearrangement of events to create a more amusing narrative, and a great deal of gratuitous cussing.

Among my people, these are called jokes. J-O-K-E-S. An alien concept to some, but as far as I know, the only Vulcans reading the site are Natalie, Cobb and Dwayne, and they all seem to have a handle on the illogical behavior of humans.

If your response to this is, "If you say (or type, as. . . no, did that joke already) it, you must be thinking it," I quote Prince:

If a man is considered guilty for what goes on in his mind,
Then give me the electric chair for all my future crimes

And I quote Shakespeare:

I am myself indifferent honest;
but yet I could accuse me of such things that it
were better my mother had not borne me: I am very
proud, revengeful, ambitious, with more offences at
my beck than I have thoughts to put them in,
imagination to give them shape, or time to act them
in. What should such fellows as I do crawling
between earth and heaven? We are arrant knaves,
all; believe none of us.

And I quote any of a number of other Black gansta rappers:

Bitch, shut the fuck up.

Sorry to bang on about this like Obsessive Guy, since the overwhelming majority of readers -- or at least posters -- seem to have twigged all this a long time ago, but I'm still. . . annoyed, let us say, by the concept of some folks misinterpreting things and deciding to dictate to me what I can and cannot say 'round here.

Now that fair warning has been delivered that I am not putting up with that shit anymore, I'll feel much less guilty about responding with either:

• Oh, I'se powerful sorry, massa.
• That's mighty white of you. Now fuck away off.

The next time one of them chooses to do so.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled program already in progress. Closed captioning for the humor impaired provided by the Chamber of Commerce of the place I come from, a little town called Fresh Off Putting My Foot Up a Dumb Ass.

Please do not make me homesick.

Posted by Aaron at 8:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

But we all knew that already. This is just an infomational brief describing how and why.

From the Business Standard, Domino’s plans Nepal, Bangladesh foray :

Domino’s Pizza India Ltd has firmed up plans to enter Nepal and Bangladesh within a year.

[. . .] The company has already established its presence in Sri Lanka within three years of its operations there. Dominos India broke even in the current financial year after five years of operation.

In order to grow its business further and attract additional footfalls, the company is adding new products under its portfolio. The latest item is ‘Cinnastix’ which is cinnamon flavoured freshly baked sweet bread sticks. The product is the most successful product launched by the parent company in the last two years, Nair said.

[. . .] Speaking on the past experiences, Nair added that the company has launched three products in the last one year which include thin crust pizza, garlic bread and now ‘cinnastix.’

He added that the company has sold about 10 million garlic bread sticks in India in the last one year which is ‘phenomenal.’

Let's see, a billion people in India, which works out to. . . no, that way madness lies.

Meanwhile, according to Pizza Marketplace News, Domino’s Pizza India headed for first-ever profit:

NEW DELHI—Domino’s Pizza India Ltd. is headed toward its first profit since opening in the subcontinent five years ago.

[. . .] "It has been made possible by increasing focus not only on training, but also on appreciation and awards for the employees," said Nair, adding that delivery times have improved as well.

Before year's end, Domino's expects to add five new outlets for a total of 90. It once had 100 units in the country, but pulled back after expanding too quickly. Since then, the company has renovated and expanded many of its outlets.

I'd check to see what delivery times are, but figure the part of my brain that's genuinely curious about Domino's Pizza delivery times in India deserves to suffer.

Nothing about this at BBC Nepali.

The Royal Nepalese embassy at Saudi Arabia has said it has issued travel documents to 81 Nepalese nationals detained in different prisons in the kingdom to travel back home. Office-in-charge at the embassy, Lekh Nath Gautam, told BBC Nepali service that they were reportedly arrested on charges of violating contracts with their employers.

They're more concerned with other things.

This entry dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Laura

Posted by Aaron at 2:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Hey, Paul Simon was my Senator from the great state of Illinois, y'know.

No quotes from the review Bookslut: Lea Hernandez's Comics for Girl; just go read. I'll wait here.

Back already? Ok, go check out Warren Ellis' colaboration with Lea. It's called Poppy, and it's good. I think it's better than his story with Colleen Doran, but may just be bitter about that whole A Distant Soil thing.

Back again? Ok, have a look-see at Rumble Girls. As a Modern Tales subscriber, you can add Rumble Girls for a buck a month. And you are a subscriber, yes?

Oh. Then go read Narbonic. The current storyline's been running for a while, so you'll have to hit the archives, but it's worth it.

This has been your comics content for the day.

Update: Well, not all of it. Oni Press has some Killer Princesses Sunday Funnies for your amusement, a collaboration between Lea Hernandez and Gail Simone. Thought they had a free comic, but must'a been thinking of the strips. Well, there's still some Good Stuff in there. And you can always just shell out the cash for the books:

Bust: 36 Waist: 24 Hips: 36 Guns: .44 IQ:. . . Not Good. What happens to the Prom Queen when the prom is over? Meet the girls of the SORORITY; Faith, Hope and Charity, the most popular girls on campus, and the best assassins the world has ever known. When these girls aren't in class they're toppling third world governments, playing enforcer for the mob, and causing millions of dollars worth of property damage. They're not sweet. They're not nice. They don't know state capitals. They barely know what month it is. Too pretty to be ignored, and just smart enough to be dangerous. They're the Killer Princesses and they're back to ruin your life. . . Again!

Er, think I got all four issues. Know I got the first two, at least. Maybe.

Update 11/20: Oh look, an Interview with Lea Hernandez at Bookslut. By Karin. Which I'd managed to miss completely, because I suck.

Could people go back to slapping me upside the head when I have an attack of the stupids? It's for my own good, really, and seems to be the only way I'll ever learn. . .

This entry dedicated to the Nubian Goddesses: Karin L. Kross and Lea Hernandez

Posted by Aaron at 12:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm liking today's Tina the Troubled Teen:

Of course, my Neopet isn't happy about the attention I'm giving Tina:

Eh, she'll get over it.

Yeah yeah yeah, I know, "How old are you again?" Shut the hell up.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Jessica Linker

Posted by Aaron at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Just got this from Abigail Garner's newsletter, which is highly recommended: Boston.com / News: Massachusetts court rules ban on gay marriage is unconstitutional

By Associated Press, 11/18/2003

BOSTON -- Massachusetts' highest court ruled Tuesday that same-sex couples are legally entitled to wed under the state constitution, but stopped short of immediately allowing marriage licenses to be issued to the couples who challenged the law.

The court, in a 4-3 ruling, ordered the Legislature to come up with a solution within 180 days.

"Marriage is a vital social institution. The exclusive commitment of two individuals to each other nurtures love and mutual support. It brings stability to our society," Chief Justice Margaret Marshall wrote in the long-awaited ruling. "For those who choose to marry, and for their children, marriage provides an abundance of legal, financial and social benefits. In return, it imposes weighty legal, financial, and social obligations."

The Supreme Judicial Court's ruling closely matches the 1999 Vermont Supreme Court decision, which led there to the Legislature's approval in 2000 of civil unions that give couples many of the same benefits of marriage.

Not quite time to pop open the champagne yet, as the mailing says:

This does not mean, however, that same-sex couples in Massachusetts will be able to tie the knot immediately. The Legislature now has 180 days to come up with a solution that responds to the decision.

Links for additional information:

Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders (GLAD) Website: http://www.glad.org

Website for the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts: (a very long URL that messed up the page formatting, so just click)

CNN article: http://www.cnn.com/2003/LAW/11/18/gay.marriage.reut/index.html

Boston Globe article: http://www.boston.com/news/daily/18/gay_marriage.htm

So, six months at least until a resolution. But it's something.

Doubt I'd be so patient and accepting of baby steps like this if I was directly affected, and I'm hardly one to counsel others on patience. But with Bush and Co. running the show, any good news seems like a blessing.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Abigail Garner

Posted by Aaron at 10:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Ok, new entry up at Chicago Lesbians Invading Taverns. It's photos from the most recent get-together, but I'm maintaining the polite fiction that I don't remember this, and ignoring the fact that I'm desperately trying to hide in one of the pictures.

Yes, anyone who spots me and points me out wins a very special prize.

Also made thumbnails for this and the previous photo set by hand, since Hostway ain't got ImageMagick available, but Michelle pointed out Thumbnailing with NetPBM and Movable Type, and I managed to get that working this morning. So, on a going-forward basis (gods, I hate that phrase), whoever uploads the images will get a nice prompt asking if they'd like to create thumbnails, and MT will autogenerate the code to open a pop-up with the full-size image in the entry.

I say "whoever" because I'm also maintaining the polite fiction that I'm not doomed honored to be the webmistress for the site for the rest of my life.

In other news, went to Women & Children First yesterday to special-order a book (rather than just getting it at a chain, because I am a hippie), and noticed the small display of cds on the counter. And what do the owners think would be of interest to people shopping there?

• Dressy Bessy
• EmmyLou Harris
• Puffy Ami Yumi
• Natalie Merchant
• Sarah McLachlan

All of whom I've mentioned on this site at one time or another.

I could dwell on the possible Deep, Meaningful Implications of this, or I could listen to the Teen Titans theme on Puffy Ami Yumi's site.

I'm going for the latter.

Oh, and anyone with cable/Trio, they're airing some Tori Amos programming this morning, with a repeat this afternoon, to observe the release of the new cd. Check your local listings. Or not so local listings. Or something.

Update: Oh, right, forgot to mention a few days back when I got the confirmation email, I'm officially a member of the Chicago Blogs Webring now.

Meaning special guest blogger Abe Froman may be posting here from time to time, I expect.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Michelle Jones

Posted by Aaron at 9:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

So how does this show sound?

Looking for a good time? Want to "get your laugh on?"

Come see a FREE, bawdy, hilarious staged reading at the Lakeshore Theatre on Monday night.

WHAT: THE COMING OF THE FEMINAZI: A F*CK WOMAN AND HUMP GIRL ADVENTURE
By Gavina Styles
Directed by Robin Chaplik.

A Babes With Blades Production
*(The show is a feminist satire in comic book form -- think Batman meets Betty Friedan)

FEATURING: Amy Matheny, Michele DiMasso, Lance Baker, Sandy Borglum, Dawn Alden, John Gawlik, Peter DeFaria, F. David Roth, Aaron Christianson, Katherine Ann Rosen, Stephanie Repin, Joe Albright, Karen Foley, Sarah Hoyer, and Amy Harmon


WHERE: The Lakeshore Theatre, 3175 N. Broadway Ave, Chicago (the old Broadway theatre space)

ADMISSION: FREE FREE FREE!

LIQUOR: Cash bar open in the lobby at 7:30pm

Hope to see you (and all your loud friends) there!!!

Pretty damned good, right? I mean, Babes With Blades. All I need to hear right there.

Oh, but I accidentally cut a line pasting this from kris dresen's Journal:

WHEN: Monday, October 20th, 2003 @ 8:00pm

Arrgh.

I note for the record that Over the Rhine will be playing at the pretty-damned-nice venue Martyrs' on Sunday, December 14th. Readers are encouraged to ask me how the show was that following Monday, especially if I spazz and miss them again.

I'm confident the reaction will be entertaining.

For somebody else.

Update: And, naturally, Jane Siberry is playing at the Black Orchid that same day.

Decisions, decisions.

In keeping with tradition, I shall probably miss both.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Kris Dresen

Posted by Aaron at 4:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

Also by way of slashdot. . . you'd almost think they were useful or something, as long as you avoid the comments:

Scream of the Shalka, a new animated Doctor Who series at Auntie Beeb's site. Requires Flash 4, of all things.

And in this morning's Bad Signal list mailing, Warren Ellis says:

It occurs to me that while the web increases the participational breadth of conversation at an almost exponential rate, there are perhaps only so many conversations worth having, and the exchange is doomed to constant rolling recapitulation.

He's talking about people having the same conversations previously hashed out on the WEF, or that he wrote about in Come In Alone, but the statement applies generally, I think. One of the reasons I'm a bit leery about having rejoined ecto, but like the WEF, topics there tend to vary dramatically.

Who is Warren Ellis, you ask?

Obviously, the political situation there is untenable -- but, then, so's ours. Socially, the City's a bit of a disaster, but that's nothing new here either. But if we did grow into a place where history is preserved physically, where foglet humans can toss miracles down the street, where most disease appears to have been eradicated, where you can phone Mars, and where dogs are tortured and destroyed with the mercilessness of true justice... well, that wouldn't be such a bad place to live.

He's my fucking hero, he is.

Update: Added a few links, tweaked a sentence or two. Mostly, I wanted to get that YKTR image off the top of the page; it was starting to scare me.

This entry is dedicated to the Nubian Goddess: Ginger Stampley

Posted by Aaron at 3:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

In other news, the new Tori Amos cd will be out tomorrow. I remember standing in line at a record store at midnight to get Under the Pink back in the day. Um, because my younger sister insisted she was going, and I didn't want her wandering around the wilds of Shampoo-Banana unescorted. Yes, that will do.

Not so much with the crazed fan behavior these days, but guess I'll pick up a copy.

Mind you, I still haven't heard all of this:

And that's probably for the best.

There was some single or something I ordered from Newbury Comics, but damned if I can remember what it was. Hope I kept the longbox the cd came in; apparently you can sell these for Tall Yanqui Dollars on eBay.

No, not the cds. The longboxes.

Humanity, faith in, rapidly decreasing to zero.

Update: Meh.

What's a little crazed fan behaviour between friends?

Posted by Aaron at 2:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Bookslut

Had to find out about the site from the dead-tree Chicago Reader, because I suck. And never read Karin's page closely enough, for the same reason.

Well, added Blog of a Bookslut to that massive Bloglines-fueled list over yonder, but it's at the bottom of the list, and only named "blog."

In case you were wondering what that was. Doubt anyone reads down that far. No one's mentioned the inexplicable re-appearance of Tina the Troubled Teen yet. Not even the Ghettofabulous Jessica, and today's saying seems just designed for her. . .

Update, more or less:

np -- Alison's Halo, found by way of the Alternative songs in Lincoln Park page at MP3.com, which is linked from the Drovers page there. Not quite sure why. Why it's linked, not why I followd the things.

Also, The Drovers Official Spot on the Net and of course alison's halo - news & info. Not sure these bands have anything in common -- including the Lincoln Park connection -- but it's all good.

Posted by Aaron at 11:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

But I'll forget if I don't make a note of it, so:

Bawdy Beautiful
New Burlesque shakes up San
Francisco

When the busty, heavily tattooed blonde Eva Von Slut raises her enormous platform heel and crushes the tiny cardboard city at her feet, the crowd of sexy zombies, black-caped vampires and tightly corseted can-can girls at the DNA Lounge goes wild.

The audience members crane their necks to catch a glimpse of her skimpy green outfit glittering in the spotlight as she slowly, tauntingly reduces the buildings to a pulp.

With a final grind of her ample hips, Von Slut (who is dressed as Grrlzilla for this Halloween event) finishes her dance of destruction and struts offstage, trailing her long dinosaur tail behind.

[. . .] Despite its current popularity with Generation X, burlesque is a recycled diversion from many generations ago. Launched in New York in the late 19th century with the import of Lydia Thompson and her British Blondes, it bumped and grinded its way into dance halls and theaters around the country and remained popular into the 1930s before finally fading in the late '50s.

True to its etymological origins (the word burlesque means "caricature" or "parody"), early burlesque acts were part of larger variety shows featuring comical skits and unusual sideshow characters. Burlesque queens were curvaceous women who coyly peeled away costumes down to their pasties while wielding bawdy jokes and saucy one-liners. The legendary Sophie Tucker, nicknamed the Red Hot Mama, explained the phenomenon best when she said, "Burlesque is just vaudeville with tits."

Cut from the bit I just quoted, for space issues, is a mention that the audiences for the current crops of shows are women rather than men, and there's a few size-positive comments and genderfuck stuff in the article too. Worth a look, but you maybe wanna avoid the linked photo gallery if you're at work.

This has been your sex content of the day, which I'm guessing is why Daze Reader links here. . .

Not sure what made me think of this:

[An article about Ms. Cho] started out, "Funny, sexy, zaftig Margaret Cho..." What is "zaftig?" Isn't that German for "big fat pig?" I guess I was lucky; "zaftig" is kind of a nice word. It could have been, "Funny, sexy, OBESE Margaret Cho."

Ah well. Audio samples at A Tribute to Margaret Cho, if you wanted to hear more.

No idea what made me think of this. None at all. Nope.

But Zaftig is kind of a nice word. You could, I dunno, call a book that, or something.

Posted by Aaron at 9:14 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, not really, but I left out the explanation from my "annoyed with humanity" comment in the previous entry. First off, there were the comments in this Slashdot thread:

Didn't they use test audiences on this movie??? People laughed during moments that were obviously meant to be tragic. Some people did applaud during the ending credits, but they probably thought it was a comedy. I was very dissapointed. The best thing that could happen now would be for the Wachowski brothers to somehow forget this travesty and make a Matrix 4 that is the real conclusion to the triology, ignoring that Revolutions was ever made.

And then there were the pull quotes from some reviews at Rottentomatoes:

"I'm warning you: don't see this film--because whatever third movie you envisioned in your head, no matter how lame, has got to be better than this."
-- Widgett Walls, NEEDCOFFEE.COM

"The Wachowski Brothers seem to have shot their wad on brain-bending FX ideas in the first two films, and their trademark mouthy cryptobabble has been consigned to a few Zen-lite confabs that even fans will snicker at."
-- Steve Schneider, ORLANDO WEEKLY

And more like that. Don't really care to read through the things again. It'll just increase the hate.

But come on, test audiences? I thought those were generally agreed to be tools of The Man/The Devil. And art ain't a democracy, last time I checked. . .

As for the movie in your head comment, like I said in the other post, no one's stopping you from making it. Except trademark law if you wanted to use the actual characters, unless it's a parody, if my layman's understanding of IP law is right. Which I truly doubt.

Other folks were given not-sure-how-much free reign to play in their sandbox, with short stories and comics up at the Matrix site, and the Animatrix shorts. Some of those I liked better than others, but none of them seemed compromised by test audiences.

Fuck test audiences.

Audience testing is the movie studios' way of hedging their bets. Although it's been around for a long time, it has never been a completely reliable process.

In 1939, test audiences for "The Wizard of Oz" felt that the now-classic scene in which Judy Garland sings "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" slowed down the action. Somehow, the songwriters prevailed, and the song stayed put.

When "E.T." was tested, audiences hated it. But it went on to become the second-highest grossing film of all time.

Anyone got an example of such a group making a film anything other than more marketable/palatable to a lower common denominator?

Yes, I'm feeling elitist today, too. Deal with it.

Posted by Aaron at 8:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I rather enjoyed Matrix Revolutions, but reading reviews of it has lowered my opinion of humanity.

Want to know more?

"Choice is an illusion, created between those with power, and those without," said The Merovingian in the previous film. In the almost-opening dance club scene, Trinity flips the script on that by using her power to waste his ass. Which doesn't leave open, but rather answers the question of whether or not you can kill a program in the Matrix by shooting it in the head.

True, this also would have meant the death of her, Morpheus, Seraph, Neo and (probably) everyone in Zion, but her power, her decision, her choice.

The Merovingian blinked first.

Which is good, or the movie would have been a hell of a lot shorter.

It's a nice ride, if you actually pay attention to the dialogue instead of treating it as an annoying pause between Shit Blowing Up. Think Los Bros. Wachowski made the "mistake" of making an intellectual film in a deeply anti-intellectual society. Not that this was a mistake, or some error on their part; they knew what they were doing. Their power, their decison, their choice.

Figure you could do a better job, hey, convince a major studio to hand you a couple hundred million and (apparently) complete creative control and see what you come up with.

Otherwise, and I cannot stress this enough as it's going to be the theme around here for a while, shut the fuck up.

Let's see, what else did I like? Strong female characters who, unlike their counterparts in a James Cameron film, did not wear nametags reading, "Hi, My Name Is Strong Female Character, and I prove this by emasculating every male who appears in a scene with me."

It's written in very tiny handwriting.

Cute kid who wasn't annoying.

People of color who didn't serve as cannon fodder/nobly sacrifice their lives so Whitey might live.

Big Robot Battles.

Like VASpider, figure I'm gonna head to the nearest IMAX to catch the film again on the Great Big Ass Screen to appreciate the SFX better. And no doubt notice things that went past me the first time, since that's what happened with Reloaded.

If you're just in it for the 'splody, you maybe wanna wait for the DVD so you can fast-forward past the nasty philosophical bits.

Otherwise, give it a go.

Posted by Aaron at 8:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

When I did my little online music source roundup a few days back, I accidentally left off mp3.com.

Might be for the best, that. From their message boards:

CNET Networks, Inc announced today that it has acquired certain assets of MP3.com, Inc.

Please be advised that on Tuesday, December 2, 2003 at 12:00 PM PST the MP3.com website will no longer be accessible in its current form.

Good thing I grabbed that Black Tape for a Blue Girl yesterday. . .

Link from slashdot, but someone mentioned this on ecto yesterday too. And apparently something's up with IUMA too.

Fuck. Remind me not to talk about stuff. At least before I would just kill bands.

Want to know more? Me neither, but you can listen to more Projekt artists (for the next few weeks, at least) at Projekt Radio.

Off to download those Cowboy Junkies tracks. . .

Posted by Aaron at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

And again, I'm not sure what the excuse is here.

Atrios quotes Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, then mentions that Jim Henley beat him to it back on March 19, 2003.

Amateurs.

From August 03, 2002:

GUIL (quietly): Where we went wrong was getting on a boat. We can move, of course, change direction, rattle about, but our movement is contained within a larger one that carries us along as inexorably as the wind and current. . .

ROS: They had it in for us, didn't they? Right from the beginning. Who'd have thought that we were so important?

GUIL: But why? Was it all for this? Who are we that so much should converge on our little deaths? (In anguish to the PLAYER:) Who are we?

PLAYER: You are Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. That's enough.

GUIL: No — it is not enough. To be told so little — to such an end — and still, finally, to be denied an explanation ——

PLAYER: In our experience, most things end in death.

GUIL (fear, vengeance, scorn): Your experience! — Actors!

He snatches a dagger from the PLAYER's belt and holds the point at the PLAYER's throat; the PLAYER backs and GUIL advances, speaking more quietly.

I'm talking about death — and you've never experienced that. And you cannot act it. You die a thousand casual deaths — with none of that intensity which squeezes out life . . . and no blood runs cold anywhere. Because even as you die you know that you will come back in a different hat. But no one gets up after death — there is no applause — there is only silence and some second-hand clothes, and that's — death ——

And he pushes the blade in up to the hilt. The PLAYER stands with huge, terrible eyes, clutches at the wound as the blade withdraws; he makes small weeping sounds and falls to his knees, and then right down.

While he is dying, GUIL, nervous, high, almost hysterical, wheels on the TRAGEDIANS—

If we have a destiny, then so had he — and if this is ours, then that was his — and if there are no explanations for us, then let there be none for him ——

The TRAGEDIANS watch the PLAYER die; they watch with some interest. The PLAYER finally lies still. A short moment of silence. Then the TRAGEDIANS start to applaud with genuine admiration. The PLAYER stands up, brushing himself down.

PLAYER (modestly): Oh, come, come, gentlemen — no flattery — it was merely competent ——

The TRAGEDIANS are still congratulating him. The PLAYER approaches GUIL, who stands rooted, holding the dagger.

PLAYER: What did you think? (Pause.) You see, it is the kind they do believe in — it's what is expected.

He holds out his hand for the dagger. GUIL, slowly, puts the point of the dagger on to the PLAYER's hand, and pushes. . . the blade slides back into the handle. The PLAYER smiles, reclaims the dagger.

For a moment you thought I'd — cheated.

ROS relieves his own tension with loud nervy laughter.

ROS: Oh, very good! Very good! Took me in completely — didn't he take you in completely — (claps his hands) Encore! Encore!

PLAYER (activated, arms spread, the professional): Deaths for all ages and occasions! Deaths by suspension, convulsion, consumption, incision, execution, asphyxiation and malnutrition —! Climactic carnage, by poison and by steel —! Double deaths by duel —! Show! —

ALFRED still in his Queen's costume, dies by poison; the PLAYER, with rapier, kills "KING" and duels with a fourth TRAGEDIAN, inflicting and receiving a wound. The two remaining TRAGEDIANS, the two "SPIES" dressed in the same coats as ROS and GUIL, are stabbed, as before.
And light is fading over the deaths which take place right upstage.

(Dying amid the dying — tragically; romantically.) So there's an end to that — it's commonplace; light goes with life, and in the winter of your years the dark comes early. . .

GUIL (tired, drained, but still an edge of impatience; over the mime): No. . . no. . . not for us, not like that. Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over. . . Death is not anything. . . death is not. . . It's the absence of presence, nothing more. . . the endless time of never coming back. . . a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound. . .

The light has gone upstage. Only GUIL and ROS are visible as ROS's clapping falters to silence.

Small pause.

ROS: That's it, then, is it?

No answer. He looks out front.

Small pause.

The sun's going down. Or the earth's coming up, as the fashionable theory has it.

Pause.

What was it all about? When did it begin?

Pause. No answer.

Couldn't we just stay put? I mean no one is going to come on and drag us off. . . They'll just have to wait. We're still young. . . fit. . . we've got years. . .

Pause. No answer.

(A cry.) We've done nothing wrong! We didn't harm anyone. Did we?

GUIL: I can't remember.

ROS pulls himself together.

ROS: All right, then. I don't care. I've had enough. To tell you the truth, I'm relieved.

And he disappears from view. GUIL does not notice.

GUIL: Our names shouted in a certain dawn. . . a message. . . a summons. . . There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said —no. But somehow we missed it. (He looks round and sees he is alone.)

Rosen—?
Guil—?

He gathers himself.

Well, we'll know better next time. Now you see me, now you — (and disappears).

Immediately the whole stage is lit up, revealing, upstage, arranged in the approximate positions last held by the dead TRAGEDIANS, the tableau of court and corpses which is the last scene of Hamlet.

That is: The KING, QUEEN, LAERTES and HAMLET, all dead. HORATIO holds HAMLET. FORTINBAS is there.

So are two AMBASSADORS from England.

AMBASSADOR: The sight is dismal;
and our affairs from England come too late.
The ears are senseless that should give us hearing
to tell him his commandment is fulfilled,
that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead.

That entry links to an earlier one, which features an extended quote from Brazil, also by Tom Stoppard, and also apropos for our current troubled times.

                          INTERVIEWER
               Do you think that the government is
               winning the battle against
               terrorists?

                           HELPMANN
               On yes. Our morale is much higher
               than theirs, we're fielding all their
               strokes, running a lot of them out,
               and pretty consistently knocking them
               for six. I'd say they're nearly out
               of the game.

                          INTERVIEWER
               But the bombing campaign is now in
               its thirteenth year ...

                           HELPMANN
               Beginner's luck.

Which text was shamelessly ripped off from http://www.trond.com/brazil/. The R&GaD bit was typed in one day when I was very, very bored. . .

Update: Oh, and the comments feature an oddly civil conversation between me and Jeff from Protein Wisdom. And me plugging Urusei Yatsura 2: Beautiful Dreamer as one of the greatest films ever made.

I was doing better drugs back then.

Posted by Aaron at 11:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Other than my taste in music, that is.

A few of the tracks I done got from EMusic since joining:

I Fought In A War, Fold Your Hands Child, You Walk Like A Peasant, Belle And Sebastian

Heartless Moon, Heartless Moon, Brenden Gamble

Nil Se'n La, Clannad In Concert, Clannad

The Host Of Serpahim, A Passage In Time, Dead Can Dance

Gen-X (Shall We Dance?), Piloted By Ghosts, Suede Chain

Ok, it reveals that I went to U of I Shampoo-Banana, yes, but what else?

Update: Oh yeah, and anyone got any recommendations based on that? EMusic is suggesting Mogwai, Apples in Stereo and Guided By Voices, along with a hell of a lot of jazz.

And Bauhaus.

And Slayer.

I'm not sure I like where they're going with that.

Update: Ah.

Public Enemy - Revolverlution

I think that'll do nicely, yes.

Posted by Aaron at 9:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (17) | TrackBacks (0)

Today's Daily Dharma:

When Things Fall Apart
Pema Chodron

Bodhidharma brought Zen Buddhism from India to China. He was well known for being fierce and uncompromising. There is a story about how he kept nodding off during meditation, so he cut off his eyelids. When he threw them on the ground, they turned into a tea plant, and then he realized he could drink the tea to stay awake! He was uncompromising in that he wanted to know what was true, and he wasn't going to take anybody else's word for it. His big discovery was that by looking into our own heart, we find the awakened Buddha, the completely unclouded experience of how things really are.

Ok, guess I could drink tea instead of coffee. . .

Meanwhile, over at Common Dreams, in a reprint from TomDispatch, there's Hope Dies Last by Studs Terkel:

Hope has never trickled down. It has always sprung up. That's what Jessie de la Cruz meant when she said, "I feel there's gonna be a change, but we're the ones gonna do it, not the government. With us, there's a saying, ‘La esperanza muere última. Hope dies last.' You can't lose hope. If you lose hope, you lose everything."

She, a retired farm worker, was recounting the days before Cesar Chavez and his stoop-labor colleagues founded the United Farm Workers (UFW). It was a metaphor for much of the twentieth century.

As we enter the new millennium, hope appears to be an American attribute that has vanished for many, no matter what their class or condition in life. The official word has never been more arrogantly imposed. Passivity, in the face of such a bold, unabashed show of power from above, appears to be the order of the day. But it ain't necessarily so.

Or, you know, apparently the right-wingers are dogpiling on Tom Tomorrow for this here comic strip.

I almost envy them in their ignorance.

I hear that it's bliss.

Posted by Aaron at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (1)

Absolutely astonishing.

As I'm always a day late and a dollar short, this was the last show in Happy's current tour, so telling you how brilliant she is live and how you have to see her if she's performing anywhere nearby. . . is pointless, until the next tour. Which should be soon, and in support of the not-quite-out-yet new cd.

Picked up a copy of Many Worlds Are Born Tonight at the show, and a very lovely mouse pad with the image of that cd's cover. Which Happy signed for me, so now there's no way I'm using it as an actual mouse pad and will possibly have it framed.

Met cool people, heard wonderful music, drank entirely too many (meaning, two) Vodka & Red Bulls, and am still smiling at the memory of it all.

And if the VCR actually worked properly and taped Angel for me last night, it's all good.

Oh, and ordered/bought that AT&T GoPhone I'd been thinking about getting, as they're running a one-day-only web sale. Free car charger. Not so much with the Woo Hoo, what with the other stuff going on, but that's a few extra bucks saved. And, again, I don't like the thing, back it goes 28 Days Later (or at least before 30).

Maybe light posting today. I have no idea why I'm awake and online this early, to be honest.

Didn't jot down a set list, but she did perform To Live In Your World. And Bowie's Ashes to Ashes, which I've already gone through for post titles, so it'll be the former for anything that does actually go up today. You have been warned.

Update: Just re-subscribed to ecto. I imagine I'll be buried in a deluge of messages and tell majordomo to stop this crazy thing in a few days, but right now, I'm just feeling the Happy love too much to care.

Did I mention she's also really, really cute?

Yes, I'm that shallow. Why are people always surprised by this?

Again with the update: Chip Lueck has posted some photos from the concert night before last, in, um, his living room. In case you don't take my word on these things.

Posted by Aaron at 6:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Hi kids. Just a brief note before I head out to see Happy Rhodes (and if you're in Chi and on the fence about attending, long-time fan and Ecto member Vickie Mapes has some samples available).

Stating the obvious, but sometimes these things need to be said:

1. Yr. humble webmaster is, when all's said and done, a Negro from the south side of Chicago, a couple generations removed from sharecroppers, and just slightly more from slaves. Often, he expresses himself in a manner consistent with these origins. This sort of language may be unsuitable for younger, more sensitive readers and the chronically melanin-impaired.

   This is not my fucking problem.

2. Yr. humble webmaster also, as the name implies, pays for the hosting, domain name and bandwidth for this site, and as such will write about whatever he fucking well pleases, when he pleases, in whatever manner he pleases. If this bothers you, again, this is not my fucking problem, and you can leave at any time. Immediately would be best.

3. Yr. humble webmaster is, in most cases, older than you, blacker than you, and has been through shit that would have left you having a closed-casket service. If he needs a lecture from anyone on any topic, he'll ask.

   Don't hold your breath waiting.

Anyone having problems with any of the preceeding is heartily encouraged to explain, in email, where you feel I've gone wrong. Or you can post a polite comment to that effect, and there's the off chance I won't just delete it on G.P.

Because you know, the name of this place is Uppity-Negro.com. Maybe it's about time I started earning that title.

Management does not apologize for the inconvenience. See above.

Posted by Aaron at 6:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (16) | TrackBacks (1)

Reclusive former silver screen starlet Norma Desmond Aaron [fill-in-the-blank] will be making an appearance at Martyrs' this evening, probably sitting alone at a table if one is snaggable and nursing a Guinness for the duration of Happy Rhodes' performance. Come up and say hi, but ladies and gentlemen, no pictures, please.

Another reminder to myself. Mind like a sie-. . . colland-. . . a thingee with holes in it.

Light posting. For any political stuff that comes up today, the standard reactions will no doubt apply:

1. Dear God, they're idiots
2. We are soooooo fucked

Off to listen to Lisa Germano and do data entry. Ah, the fabulous life of a faded starlet. . .

Update: Checking out the menu at Martyrs', and there's actually stuff I can eat. Might have to ask 'em to hold the cheese on a few dishes, but there's always the hummus. Or I can risk weird looks asking for a cheeseless pizza. But, options. Options are good.

Not as good as Triple Rock, with the numerous vegan choices, but they're fucking freaks of nature.

I love them so.

Posted by Aaron at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Until I saw Gray's entry for today. Noticed it on the calendar this morning, too. Brain disease must be getting worse.

Black Steel (live) - Tricky, Sessions at West 54th

I got a letter from the government
The other day
I opened and read it
It said they were suckers
They wanted me for their army or whatever
Picture me given' a damn - I said never
Here is a land that never gave a damn
About a brother like me and myself
Because they never did
I wasn't wit' it, but just that very minute...
It occured to me
The suckers had authority
Cold sweatin' as I dwell in my cell
How long has it been?
They got me sittin' in the state pen
I gotta get out - but that thought was thought before
I contemplated a plan on the cell floor
I'm not a fugitive on the run
But a brother like me begun - to be another one
Public enemy servin' time - they drew the line y'all
To criticize me some crime - never the less
They could not understand that I'm a Black man
And I could never be a veteran
On the strength, the situation's unreal
I got a raw deal, so I'm goin' for the steel

Black Steel In The Hour Of Chaos, Public Enemy
Ridenhour - Shocklee - Sadler - Drayton

Posted by Aaron at 1:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

The Fray trade paperback will be released November 26th. So if, like me, you claimed you were Waiting For The Trade, now's your chance.

Or soon's your chance.

Or something.

Want to know more? Visit the Buffy Zone at Dark Horse comics.

Oh, right, some of you don't know:

Hundreds of years in the future, Manhattan has become a deadly slum, run by mutant crime-lords and disinterested cops. Stuck in the middle is a young girl who thought she had no future, but learns she has a great destiny. In a world so poisoned that it doesn't notice the monsters on its streets, how can a street kid like Fray unite a fallen city against a demonic plot to consume mankind? Joss Whedon, the celebrated creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, brings his vision to the future in this unique tale. As inventive in the comics medium as in that of television or film, Whedon spins a complex tale of a skilled thief coming of age without the help of friends or family, guided only by a demonic Watcher.

Mentioned it ages ago, when the singles were coming out. The future-slang is a bit annoying -- almost always is -- but the book was worth getting.

I was Waiting For The Trade.

This has been your Daily Joss.

And now, for your personal note:

One of the things I realized in my recent chat with Melek Taus is that I've been much too worried about burning bridges that lead to places I'm not welcome, and that I have no particular interest in returning to. And that, rather than allowing my anger to eat me alive, I should be more willing to not just burn them, but fucking blow them up with a smile on my face and a song in my heart, and dance as the wreckage comes a'raining down around me.

The point was also raised that if you're going to be considered the villain no matter what you say or do, then that must be what folks want, so just go on and give it to them.

Perhaps not the best of advice, considering the source, but if you can't trust the Morningstar, who can you trust?

Posted by Aaron at 1:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Closer to the latter tenth, actually.

So, I'm thinking about getting a cell phone.

Prepaid or no contract, obviously, as anyone looking at my credit report would either collapse in hysterical laughter or call security to get me the fuck out of their store. Or, possibly, both at the same time.

There's a handy comparison chart listing options on the east coast, but most of the providers do Chi as well. And it's no longer just fly-by-night companies offering those sorts of plans -- not sure why I remember them as being a huge scam, but I'm working to throw this off -- but Virgin Mobile (too much for the young people, I think), Verizon (kind'a spendy, making it harder to not think of these as scams) and the one I'm leaning towards, AT&T's Go Phone.

There is a monthly fee rather than the pay-as-you-go style usually associated with prepay, but they offer free, unlimited nights and weekends. The actual prepay phones, um, you have to prepay.

Anyone have any experience with any of these? Only thought of it, really, because of the publicity about the disposables coming out. . .

Also considered the TracFone, since I send 'em $25, they send me a phone, but since I ain't got a land line at the moment -- or a permanent residence, I'm still crashing on my sister's couch -- what they provide seems like too little.

On the other hand, 30 day money-back guarantee, so if it sucks, back it goes.

Anyway, helpful suggestions appeciated. I know about the (possible) brain cancer thing. No worries, I'm a Gulf War vet. That'd be the least of my worries.

Did finally submit the paperwork to get the paperwork the VA needs to do their paperwork to get me that Comprehensive Physical. And did lots of cleaning. It was a productive weekend. Why I didn't really post here, actually.

Posted by Aaron at 1:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

From the learn-something-new-every-day department:

The origin of the name "Blind Pig" stems from the prohibition days in Chicago. A "Blind Pig" was a cop who was paid not to see the speak-easy’s or illegal drinking places.

That's from the Digital Club Network description of the club in Ann Arbor. I hadn't realized that was where the name came from.

Which makes the fact that the Shampoo-Banana club of that name changed names to "Coppers" all the more amusing.

Is it bad that I actually lost track of the number of times I saw The Moon Seven Times play there?

Huh. Decent info about 'em at MSN. Who'd'a thunk it?

And, as always, The Ectophiles' Guide is your friend. Except to your wallet.

And remind me to check recent Ecto archives posts to see who else in Chi will be going to the show. . . fuck. Tomorrow.

Guess I'm taping "Angel," then.

Posted by Aaron at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

From the Press Release:

Expanding on its commitment to bringing the most innovative independent artists and the highest quality downloads to its subscribers, EMusic is partnering with the most renowned live music venues across the US to launch its new program, EMusic Live. The program, set to launch in the coming weeks, will bring together an existing network of venues, previously known as the Digital Club Network (DCN), to make electrifying live performances available to consumers from far-flung clubs across the country, including: the 9:30 Club in Washington, DC; The Casbah in San Diego, CA; the 40 Watt Club in Athens, GA; The Metro in Chicago, IL, Toad's Place in New Haven, CT and Arlene Grocery in New York, NY, to name just a few.

"We are thrilled to partner with a company that is dedicated to serving the artists and fans of independent music," said Greg Scholl, CEO of DCN. "The EMusic Live venues represent the best live music clubs in the country -- clubs where some of today's biggest stars got their starts. Through EMusic Live, we will offer the live music created every night in these rooms to the world. This combination offers EMusic subscribers unique and unparalleled access to their favorite artists, and a glimpse into the cutting-edge, independent music scene across the best live music markets in America. Working together with EMusic, we are going to change the way people think about live music."

Used to be an Emusic affiliate, but when I logged in this morning (for the first time in 2003, probably), there was a message saying they'd dropped me. Seeing as I haven't linked 'em in ages, this comes as no surprise.

Finally signed up for the trial membership last night. The tracks I'd bought before they went subscription-based (which should tell you how long ago I was using the place) were "grandfathered," so they didn't count against the free trial downloads. Which I think was a nice touch, since I'm not sure I have a copy of Meg Lee Chin's cover of Ministry's Scarecrow anywhere. . .

Suppose there's some irony in me signing up right after the deadline for old subscribers to cancel if they didn't care for the new terms.

There was much wailing and gnashing of tooth on slashdot about this, as usual. With a few Voices Of Reason, who were mostly ignored.

I admit, the unlimited download thang (which I never bothered signing up for) was a better deal. And it's a bit annoying that if I was to get, say, Lisa Germano's On The Way Down From The Moon Palace, the brief li'l 1 or 2 minute tracks count against the total number of downloads.

On the other hand, iTunes doesn't seem to have any of her stuff. Nor does Liquid Audio, something else I hadn't visited in ages. I'm sure there are perfectly good reasons they dropped their own proprietary format and went with Microsoft's instead. . .

Rhapsody does, but it looks like the only way to find out which is by joining. Um, no. At least Apple has that linkmaker function.

BuyMusic. . . doesn't want to let me look at their site in Firebird. Ok, next.

Musicmatch. . . really, really want me to install their software. And pay for the full version. Don't even see a place to search for who-all they have available.

I'm still thinking EMusic is the best deal here. Especially for us Linux users, as they appear to be the only folks even producing a 'port for penguinheads.

And, you know, no DRM, mp3s instead of some weird proprietary shit, searchable database even if you're not a subscriber or using their software. . .

. . . which wasn't necessary back in the day; you could download the individual tracks or complete albums using a couple different programs, if I remember a'right. And have multiple simultaneous downloads, something the current client doesn't seem to do.

Complaints about this and other issues, some valid, some not, can be read at the Revised Standard Version of Why EMusic (used to) get it (and Apple didn't).

Meh.

Do have to say the limit of 40 is seeming onerous since the first thing I grabbed was Henry's other two albums. So I might upgrade to the $15/65 song membership, which is still less than the cost of a single cd.

A lot less, since I think this would still constitute the free no-obligation month.

Or I'll wait, since I doubt I'd normally get that much. And Meg's Junkies And Snakes ain't going anywhere if I wait on it.

All in all, though, I still like the service, and will probably stick with 'em after the trial.

Guess I could have tossed an attention conservation notice, e.g. "Geeks are whiny bitches," at the top of this. But I pretty much made up my mind while I was composing it.

This is my thought process at work. Scary, ain't it?

Guess this reminds me a bit of the wailing when GEnie was bought out, except in that case the new owners really were screwing the existing customers, even compared to their rivals in the market. The new EMusic programs might be worse than what they were offering, but it's still way better than the competition.

In my opinion, anyway.

What did the Thrill Kill Kult fans in the audience think of The Reincarnation Of Luna? I'm was thinking that gets queued for purchase/download after I work through the Pigface catalog, or should it jump the line?

Oh, right, and a few links tossed in the press release, for the hell of it.

Posted by Aaron at 11:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Abbie The Cat Has A Posse:

Hi my name is Abbie and I am a cat and I am writing all about me and the other cat and the people in this place.

Never fails to raise a smile, even re-reading entries I've already laughed my fool head over.

Light posting, blah de blah, you know the drill. Explore the links list, especially some of the sites in the referrers that don't appear in either of the other lists of links. Lots of Good Stuff out there, as well as quite a bit of Totally Uncategorizable Weird Shit.

I like to think this place falls into the latter category myself.

Posted by Aaron at 7:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

In any language.

Univision: ¿Siliconas o salinas? La guerra continúa:

¿Estás pensando en agrandar tu pechonalidad? Después de 10 años de prohibición, los implantes de siliconas vuelven triunfantes a Estados Unidos. Pero la decisión todavía es polémica, así es que primero estudia bien lo que dicen quienes están a favor y en contra.

Ok, the actual words aren't all that bad, I guess. Maybe it's the accompanying photos. Or the overall tone. Or I need more coffee.

Hey, I just wanted to check the schedule for Sabado Gigante.

Ok, I was looking at Galería de Shakira. Sue me.

Posted by Aaron at 9:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Well, I read about this premiere late last night, because I couldn't be arsed to look through the Reader before the weekend started:

Chicago artist/writer Jill Thompson has teamed with Vancouver's Mainframe Entertainment Inc. to produce the "Scary Godmother Halloween Spooktakular" a computer-animated special to debut at the first annual Chicago International Animation Film Festival Saturday at the Biograph Theatre.

The 47-minute film, based on the first of Thompson's four Scary Godmother illustrated books and its 2001 play incarnation, adapts the story of how little Hannah Marie meets her Scary Godmother ("like a fairy godmother, but for Halloween," Thompson says) and her gaggle of spooky friends.

"These characters were so rich in background and story . . . it was a natural for animation," says Rick Mischel, Mainframe CEO. "It's really Jill's characters and story lines; she created a world that we felt the entire family would relate to and enjoy. It's rare to fine a property like that."

Er, I'm sure he meant to say "find a property like that," but copyediting is an overrated skill. I mean, look at this place.

From the Trib's write-up Scary Godmother tale debuts at animated fest. I added some links here and there.

Want to see more? Lots of Jill's artwork is available using Google's image search, and Mainframe has a promo up. Which I cannot see, because I don't have Quicktime installed either.

Blah.

Also, RedHeadDread (or rather, K-zilla) recommends the books, so that's all right.

I'm just gonna flip through the schedule and see what else I missed due to suckitude above and beyond the call.

Oh, and I missed Good Stuff at Reeling too:

Laughing Matters
This hilarious docucomedy showcases four unique veteran performers - each from different ethnic and economic backgrounds. Yet all of these women have two things in common: Each is a professional stand-up comedian, and all have been out lesbians for the entire duration of their careers. Celebrated comedians Kate Clinton, Marga Gomez, Suzanne Westenhoefer, and Karen Williams have followed their hearts as performers, forging a path for other queer comedians. Effortlessly interspersing intimate one-on-one interviews that detail experiences of coming out with footage of the comedians’ sharp and feisty performances, this film is a truly inspiring look at how these four women became role models within the queer community, as well as icons for other mainstream performers. 60 min

Suckity suck suck suck. . .

Let's see if I can pull it together enough to catch Brother Outsider: The Life of Bayard Rustin Tuesday. I will seriously kick myself if I manage to miss that too.

Posted by Aaron at 9:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Back on Friday, Redpac claimed to be evil.

No.

The embedded Real Audio player I just commented out, but that you can still listen to the music from here?

That's evil.

Especially the autostart="true" bit.

Update 11/11: Which I've just turned off, because I think the point has been made.

Any questions? Comments? Curse words?

Update: I expect I should turn that off at some point.

Yep, I should do that.

Tra la la la la.

Posted by Aaron at 6:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Which is why my ass fell asleep at the Ween show last night. Hey, when you've slept through an air raid, a rock concert is so not a problem.

Not blogging about this:

Or this: Women Account for Hefty Portion of Web Porn Viewing:

Jane Juffer, an assistant professor of women's studies at Pennsylvania State University, devotes part of a class on feminist media studies to women and pornography.

"It's a misconception that porn ruins relationships or is only for men in trenchcoats," said Juffer, author of "At Home With Pornography: Women, Sex and Everyday Life." Juffer concedes that pornography often degrades women, but called it "a potentially positive thing," especially when "directed at couples, providing more information for a better sex life."

While the fact that Juffer teaches about pornography is a sign of growing social acceptance, she said many of her students "still think porn is for men and porn is bad."

If more pornography sites were made with women in mind, they would feel more comfortable, Juffer said.

Because I'm not really capable of that whole coherent thoughts thing right now. Do think that last one could have named Scarleteen, but this might be the sleep deprivation talking. You can always tell. It makes fewer typos.

I'm just gonna do my laundry, take my vitamins and say my prayers.

Oh yes, and sleep.

Posted by Aaron at 8:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Your chance at the mic, that is.

For reasons too complicated to go into, off to see Ween at the Vic. Which means not babysitting this place, though I must admit I'm surprised at how problem-free this was.

Maybe there is something to that whole inherent goodness notion after all.

Thank you, and good night.

Posted by Aaron at 5:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

*sidles up to microphone, nervously clutching notes*

Um, hi.

Having no spare juice to rant about politics today, I have decided to talk about Stuff I Like.

Specifically, certain genres of storytelling. I like storytelling. In particular, though I find it kind of amazing the way that western culture keeps coming back to one particualr kind of story: the epic. You know, Our Two-Dimensional Hero goes on some sort of adventure or journey that takes him or her to Strage, Liminal Places, where his or her Adventures will teach some fundamental Truth, and then he or she will go back to society a Changed Person.

Look at what has happened to epic's reputation, though. Oh, it's all good and effete to claim that you read *The Oddyssey* in World Lit and enjoyed it, but honestly, where is epic today? It hasn't died out, you know. It's in novels, particularly sci-fi and fantasy (Tolkein), film (the Wakowski brothers), and comic books/graphic novels (*Kingdom Come.* *The Sandman.*) Role playing games, both tabletop and electronic, are nothing but attempts to retell the epic genre to ourselves, rather than being told passively. But these, of course, are nothing like *The Illiad.* Oh, no. These are lowbrow materials, and not to be taken seriously. Guilty pleasures. Geek stuff.

Why?

Is there something wrong with having meaning conveyed by the interaction of character with plot, rather than by following the moody introspection of a given character through a nearly plotless space? Don't get me wrong: I like good character study. But why do we rate it more highly than other ways of conveying complex ideas? Epic does paint with a wide brush, but as the chorus of Matrix fans hanging around here know, the truths it tries to convey are no less profound. And they're conveyed in spite of Keanu Reeves' flat acting style. In fact, they come across more clearly *because* richly detailed individual characterization does not trip up the works.

Indeed, I contend that epic invites us to think more. Do we spend a lot of time hearing about how Neo feels about having gone down the rabbit hole? About his confusion, depression, or fear? No. But we are invited to think, because we are not having the whole thing experienced FOR us, about what it might be like for *us* if the same happened. Indeed, VASpider wrote a short peice along those lines the other day.

While none of this can possibly excuse *Star Wars: Episode II,* I would just liek to say that I'm pleased this genre has not died. Of COURSE it was silly when Roland cleaved both an opposing knight AND his horse in two with a single blow. Versimilitude is not the point. It was just as silly as Beowulf not needing to breathe actual air for three days, and the now-famous Trinity Coiled To Attack In Midair shot. But kvetching about a lack of subtlety in epic only shows that you don't know where to look for it -- that you only recognize subtlety when it is served to you on the fine china of an artfilm character-study. There is much more subtlety of theme in much of epic, for those with patience enough to listen.

I like epic.

Going home to watch the rest of *Neverwhere* on DVD now.

*sidles away*

Posted by Aaron at 2:34 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Prometheus 6. P6. Earl.

My blog was started this year. It was formless, and turned under my hand to become what it is. It's a personal blog, I just like politics, sociology, psychology, shit like that.

Still there's a big bag of stuff I don't feel like I'll get to over there. This ain't gonna be 100 things about me. Just a couple, for context.

I'm something of a gnostic, but more Tao than Christian, more Zen than Buddhist. I am 46 years old. This means I've been reading comic books for 42 years. I'm not an asshole because I didn't know I was considered one of the cool guys in high school. Wentto college when I was 16, dropped out when I was 17 to join the army, got an honorable discharge six months later because i was (and I quote) unfit for military duty--something about being consitutionally incapable of taking orders from people I don't respect.

I have a 24 year old daughter whose birth turned me from selling drugs for a living because I realized anything I got could be taken from me if it was drug funded--and that would be taking it from her.

I have been in love three times and will not be in love again.

I've worked in a warehouse, I've been a painter, done a little day labor here and there, been a bank teller, a messenger, a clerk, supervisor, assistant manager, manager, assistant treasurer, assistant vice president, web programmer in Pascal and Javascript.

The "E" in Earl stands for eclectic. You don't want me to start listing the personal interests and skills you can cram into 46 years of obsession.

And the Fire.

Titans are Chaos gods, and the Fire of Prometheus is a chaos force. It warms, it enlightens, but is destroys when unchecked. It disrupted the order of animal instinct and is NOT an unmixed gift. But it's here, and the arrow of time points in one direction only, so it's not going to go away unless we do.

Oh, yeah. Happy Rhodes is da bomb.

Posted by Aaron at 12:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

I am a horrible person:
I laugh at fat kids running. I ripped Luke Perry's movie 8 Seconds to his face in front of a room full of comic geeks. I just called people I don't know comic geeks. I tell my girlfriend's sister what naughty things I do to her...while I'm at work with the sister...in front of the other co-workers. I program 10 or more plays of Hava Nagela on the jukebox before I leave the local bar (it's the bar's fault for putting it in there anyway). I beat my roommate with soft foam hockey pucks and an inflatable mallet. I've taken vegans to Outback Steakhouse.

None of these things however come close to the horror perpetrated by Pledge Jones. He's the devil. Evil courses through every bone in his body. This is a man who set fire to an old folks home. This is a man who stole somebody's crutches as they walked down a hill and laughed as they tumbled after. This is a man who, when approached for spare change by the homeless, has screamed at them, "There are shelters for that!" This is man who has released a tear gas canister in a church.

For these reasons and countless more I hate him. I truly do.

Thank you for your time.

Posted by Aaron at 10:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

*bows to the audience and takes the mic*

Just completed Getting Mother's Body which I thoroughly enjoyed although Suzan-Lori Parks wrapped up the story too neatly for my taste; I don't trust endings that are too neat.

Of course, I'm referring to the audio version of the book. A brother like me doesn't have time to actually sit down and read a whole novel, you know. Looking forward to The Matrix era when I can jack into my favorite novel and digest it in 60 seconds flat. It would behoove you not to take that last sentence out of context.

Body depleted, I have my sights set on Toni Morrison's Love. Thanks to the NYT link by George, I've peeped the first chapter. I'd post an excerpt but it's just as quick for you to read it there, right? Besides, I'm sure there's some potential legal issue involved with that.

I'm fond of Morrison and her female-centric fables however, I question who is crafting male characters of similar complexities. There's also an audio version of Love so I have options. Hopefully, Love won't backfire on me like Donna Tartt's The Little Friend. Never did finish that.

*drops mic and walks offstage*

Posted by Aaron at 10:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (1)

It's open mike night. Day. Whatever.

Been worried for a while that this place is turning into the online equivalent of Car Talk, where we talk about cars, car repair an-duh mostly laugh at our own jokes.

So this thread exists for newcomers or old lurkers to announce themselves.

You're in good company; there's quite a few comic book professionals, SF writers and A-list bloggers who drop by but never have anything to say.

This is your place to say it.

In fact, the whole place is your place to say it for a while.

Turned on a guest account. The username? guest. The password? guest. Just hit the link, sign in, and the mike is yours.

Obviously, anything I consider to be an abuse of this will be ruthlessly deleted. I will be watching -- this is Negropanopticon.com, among other things -- but am curious to see what develops.

Step up to the mike and say what's on your mind.

Yes, this is way too early for Free-For-All Friday, but you can also consider it slightly late.

I'm running on CPT.

Update: Right, forgot. The Upload File option is available to the guest account. I ask that this not be abused either, and point out that turning it off and removing objectionable/too damned huge stuff will take all of two seconds.

Behave.

Update 2: On second thought, no it isn't. It's not that I don't trust random strangers wandering in here to not do something foolish and/or malicious, it's just that. . . wait, no, had that right the first time.

Update: Take your cue from the Wu:

[Inspector Deck]
I smoke on the mic like smokin Joe Frazier
The hell raiser, raisin hell with the flavor
Terrorize the jam like troops in Pakistan
Swingin through your town like your neighborhood Spiderman
So uhh, tic toc and keep tickin
While I get ya flippin off the shit I'm kickin
The Lone Ranger, code red, danger!
Deep in the dark with the art to rip charts apart
The vandal, too hot to handle
Ya battle, you're sayin Goodbye like Tevin Campbell
Roughneck, Inspector Deck's on the set
The rebel, I make more noise than heavy metal

[Raekwon]
The way I make the crowd go wild, sit back relax won't smile
Rae got it goin on pal, call me the rap assassinator
Rhymes rugged and built like Schwarzenegger
And I'ma get mad deep like a threat, blow up your project
Then take all your assets
Cause I came to shake the frame in half
With the thoughts that bomb, shit like math!
So if ya wanna try to flip go flip on the next man
Cause I grab the clip and
Hit ya with sixteen shots and more I got
Goin to war with the meltin pot hot

Posted by Aaron at 7:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (2)

Futzing with the time stamp on this, so it goes below the Open Mike announcement. I'll mostly refrain from posting today, but might actually go back and answer old comments.

The comments are what make this place fun for me, you know, and I appreciate everyone who contributes.

And speaking of contributing, due to circumstances beyond anyone's control but the Evil Drug Empire she was contracting with, my sister recently had her hours -- and paycheck -- cut roughly in half. To the point where now I'm making more than she is, and that ain't much.

So, if you've got money burning a hole in your pocket, feel free to either hit the tip jar, or prevent me from buying things I don't need but badly want by buying something from my Amazon Yeah-I-Wish List.

No pressure, and no worries if you ain't got the money to spare -- recovery my black ass -- or prefer to donate to a worthier cause than two broke negroes. Like, say, comprehensive, free and sex-positive sex education.

And that's it. I'm returning to my position as Watcher.

Update, hidden here: Changed the main page to display the 15 most recent comments, since there seem to be lots of them I never got 'round to replying to. Because I suck.

Posted by Aaron at 7:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Here's Tori Amos on the meaning of that song quoted in the previous entry:

The animus in me is Raspberry Swirl, I'm in love with my women friends, but I just don't eat pussy. But I'm in love with them. If I had a different sensibility, then you know I think I could, you know, really fulfill someone down there, where a lot of men in their lives don't. And eating pussy is a metaphor, too - it's about crawling in there, being with their juices, really being with them.

She's got a new album on the way, you know.

Well, not new, exactly. More of a Greatest Hits type deal, with some new songs, some rare tunes and a bonus DVD.

If you like that sort of thing.

If you like Happy Rhodes and live in the Greater Chicagoland area, she's playing at Martyrs' on the 12th. I'm quite confident I'm going to forget about this, miss it, and kick myself for doing so.

Like I did with Over the Rhine when they played Schuba's a few weeks back.

A manly man, of course, would. . . not be listening to any of this music to begin with.

His loss.

Posted by Aaron at 4:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

So Kim du Toit says:

You know why rape is such a problem on college campuses? Why binge drinking is a problem among college freshmen?

It's a reaction: a reaction against being pussified. And I understand it, completely. Young males are aggressive, they do fight amongst themselves, they are destructive, and all this does happen for a purpose.

Because only the strong men propagate.

And Michele, in reaction, initially said:

And then I got to this part:

[see above - Ed.]

And my mind exploded.

I promised myself I would never Blog While Enraged.

Sounds like a plan. Think I'll try that one for a change.

Instead?

Raspberry Swirl (live) - Tori Amos, Purdue University

i am not your señorita
i am not from your tribe
in the garden i did no crime
i am not your señorita
i am not from your tribe
if you want inside her
well,
boy you better make her raspberry swirl
things are getting desperate
when all the boys can't be men
everybody knows i'm her friend
everybody knows i'm her man
i'm not your señorita
i don't aim so high
in my heart i do no crime
if you want inside her
well,
boy you better make her raspberry swirl

I'm gonna quote Tori Amos lyrics.

There is further discussion over at A Small Victory, with one person suggesting that Mr. du Toit was, in fact, writing an over-the-top parody.

I'd like to think that.

I'd like to think lots of things.

Update: Removed the embedded audio. Because I felt like it.

Posted by Aaron at 3:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (2)

np -- A Retrospective of House 91' - 95':

Disc 1 Mixed by Judge Jules
Disc 2 Mixed by (the late) Tony De Vit
Disc 3 Mixed by Seb Fontaine

Set's an import from the UK, of course. Not so much with the public love of house in the States.

Except here in Chi, that is.

<Little Richard Voice>We invented house music.</Little Richard Voice>

Posted by Aaron at 11:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
The troubles of the world
The troubles of the world

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
Going home to live with God

I want to meet my mother
I want to meet my mother
I want to meet my mother
Going home to live with God

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
The troubles of the world
The troubles of the world

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
Going home to live with God

I want to meet my sister
I want to meet my sister
I want to meet my sister
Going home to live with God

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
The troubles of the world
The troubles of the world

Soon I will be done with the troubles of the world
Going home to live with God

Not a happy song, if you think about it.

Different version(s) of the lyrics -- I transribed those listening to Amasong's, um, is cover the right word for this? -- at negrospirituals.com.

Warned you that I geek out about this stuff.

Posted by Aaron at 10:08 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Another low-entry day, children. But the nice thing about this job is, I'm working my way through my cd collection.

np -- Lanterna, that title-less/eponymous first release

That's not the cover of the one I have.

Want to know more? Check out The Moon Seven Times and friends discography, including Lanterna. See the cover of my version of the cd, or order your own, at Parasol. Cheaper'n Amazon, and that whole supporting indies thing the kids are into these days.

They also have the Projekt re-releases of Area's old cds, which I should pick up, as I have no way of listening to my vinyl copies of that stuff. . .

Later, I'll be listening to Over Here the Water is Sweet, the first cd from Amasong, Champaign-Urbana's Premier Lesbian/Feminist Chorus.

There's a lot of competition for that title, you know.

And they're looking to hire a director for 2004, if anyone is in the market for such a thing, and either lives in or is willing to relocate to Shampoo-Banana:

QUALIFICATIONS

Professional training and experience in choral conducting.
Ability to arrange and transcribe.
Familiarity with a wide variety of musical styles in folk and classical traditions.
Affinity for working with feminists and lesbians.
Strong leadership, charisma, and interpersonal skills.
Dedication to achievement of artistic excellence by amateur performers.
Fondness for corn and soy fields.

Make a note of that last one. Underlined.

Oh, and the title of the cd? From one of the tracks, Hotaru Koi:

One of our singers, while on a hiking trip in the Rocky Mountains, met up with some Japanese travelers and was thrilled to be able to sing this popular children's round with them under the night sky.

Come, firefly!
Over there, the water is bitter.
Over here, the water is sweet.
Trans., Tsutomu Ota

Yes, I tend to geek out over the group. Shut up, they're good.

Update: Oh, right, they also do a wicked cover of Strange Fruit:

Lewis Allan was the pseudonym of Abe Meerpopl, a socialist activist and the adoptive father of the children of the Rosenbergs after their execution for treason. None of Allen's labor and protest music approaches the poignancy of this song, a powerful metaphor for the racist lynchings of Black men in the Southern states. Written for and first recorded by Billie Holiday, "Strange Fruit" was subsequently recorded by the legendary singers Sarah Vaughan and Nina Simone. In our generation, Faith Nolan has continued this song's performance history by Black women who, in the tradition of Simone, sing against racism. Once, reading a paper from the Queer community of Los Angeles, I saw an advertisement for a performance by a troupe of Black women calling themselves "Strange Fruit." This song's origins in the countercultures of political, sexual, and racial 'deviance' seem to be continually reflected by the singularity of the artists who are drawn to it.

"Strange Fruit" is typically performed by soloist and jazz trio. This arrangement for a Capella chorus combines the traditional jazz harmonies that evoke the song's original style with unexpected dissonances more illustrative of the poems emotion.

Fun- (and footnote-) filled liner notes by former/founding director Kristina Boerger, who's now on faculty at Barnard College of all places. Go figure.

She's also performed with Urban Bush Women, and "is currently recording for Bobby McFerrin's latest project."

Plus, "[h]er dissertation, Whose Music Is It, Anyway? Black Vocal Ensemble Traditions and the Feminist Choral Movement: Performance Practice as Politics, explores racial and gender identity formation through choral performance and examines the effects of racism on White and Black performers' beliefs about authenticity, ownership, and theft of oral-tradition materials."

Bloody typical. Why are the good ones always gay?

That, and somehow I think that "Hi, I'd really like to read your dissertation" is not up there in the top ten list of pick-up lines. Even when it's sincere.

Update-a-rama: Inside Illinois: Documentary profiles Amasong, local lesbian/feminist chorus:

When then-UI music student Kristina Boerger set out to organize a lesbian/feminist choral ensemble in 1991, she drew women in with a hand-lettered poster announcing that the choir was open to any woman who could sing. Or, as Amasong member Raeann Dossett recalls in a new film about the choir, the sign indicated that “if you can carry a tune in a bucket, you’re welcome.”

More than a decade later, the collective voices of Amasong – self-described as “Champaign-Urbana’s premier lesbian/feminist chorus” – have hit more high notes than Boerger could ever have imagined possible. Amasong’s evolution – from an amateur ensemble with shared sexual and political identities to an award-winning choir and community staple – is captured in UI journalism professor Jay Rosenstein’s documentary “The Amasong Chorus: Singing Out.”

Rosenstein said the 53-minute film, which he produced, directed, wrote and edited, has played to “packed and sold-out” crowds – and even received a standing ovation – at lesbian and gay film festivals in Australia, Italy and San Francisco. Amasong’s loyal hometown following will finally get the chance to see the film when it receives its local premier at 9 p.m. Oct. 8 at the Beckman Institute auditorium. The event, part of the campus’s yearlong Brown v. Board Jubilee Commemoration, is free and open to the public.

[. . .] Unlike past documentaries Rosenstein has produced, such as “In Whose Honor?”, which explored the Chief Illiniwek controversy at Illinois, the Amasong film was created with the sole goal of profiling the ensemble and Boerger, its dynamic founder-director. “It’s not meant to be persuasive,” Rosenstein said; instead, it “mirrors the way Amasong has been integrated into the community.”

Thought I recognized the director's name; still haven't got 'round to seeing In Whose Honor? due to my extreme suckage.

And so much for that low-entry promise to myself. Unless one long-ass entry doesn't count. . .

Posted by Aaron at 8:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

And what good is a piece at The Nation without pictures with conversations?

From Michael Moore's introduction to the new(ish) Boondocks collection, Aaron McGruder's Right to Be Hostile:

But to be honest, the newspapers don't just show bad black. They have "good" black people they cover too! Like Clarence Thomas. And Condoleezza Rice. See, they care.

Oops. There I go playing the race card. You see, in America these days, we aren't supposed to talk about race. We have been told to pretend that things have gotten better, that the old days of segregation and cross-burnings are long gone, and that no one needs to talk about race again because, hey, we fixed that problem.

Of course, nothing could be further from the truth. Sure, the "whites only" signs are down, but they have just been replaced by invisible ones that, if you are black, you see hanging in front of the home-loan department of the local bank, across the entrance of the ritzy suburban mall or on the doors of the US Senate. (Ninety-seven percent Caucasian and going strong!)

Link found at Mark Evanier's news from me a few days back. This interview with McGruder was posted at ¡Journalista! even longer ago, but I was saving them for a light posting day. Like today.

Even more McGruder Madness there over the last few days (like this bit from The Corner on National Review Online). Collect 'em all!

Posted by Aaron at 3:45 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Courtesy of Neogrammarian, who doth rawk:

Want to know (or hear) more? Visit the Azoic pages at MP3.com or at their label, Nilaihah:

Female fronted Electronic Industrial Dance that pounds with energy and fiery vocals. Their 'forward...' CD captures more of an electronic feel than their previous releases and has become a club staple worldwide. Check out the multimedia EP [+ video] or 'Conflict' released in July 2003, plus their upcoming full length CD, 'illuminate' to follow in 2004. A further cultivation of their sound and style that are sure to please...

I'm all about the female fronted bands. This is probably deeply revealing of something, but I'm too tired to figure out what.

Posted by Aaron at 3:03 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

For a nearly decade-old manga that the overwhelming majority of visitors will never read. And if I'm being that considerate about Magic Knight Rayearth, I'm sure you'll extend the same courtesy until after I've seen Matrix Revolutions, yes?

First, a spoiler-free synopsis:

The story begins when three junior high school girls—Hikaru, Umi, and Fuu—are mysteriously summoned from Tokyo into another world called Cephiro. They find out that they were summoned to rescue a princess from the evil priest, and that they can't go back to Tokyo. So they set out to fulfill this mission. They learn magic. They get the cool weapons. They get the mecha. And they rescue the princess... although it's hardly a "rescue" in the normal sense. They return to Tokyo with much regret.

The book's by CLAMP (and I just noticed a week or so back that Viz is back to publishing X:1999 here in the states, and I'm several books behind. Well, there goes a couple days' salary. . .), and I trust them implicitly.

What that bizarre statement means in this context is, if they put out a book that seems to be following a standard, predictable clichéd storyline, I'm going to stay with it, because I know their work well enough to understand that they're just laying the groundwork.

Or rather, the carpet.

The one they're going to yank out from under the reader at some point.

This is also why I'm sticking with Angel for a while longer. I also trust Joss.

And I liked The Tick. The comic and the 'toon, at least. Never saw the live-action version, because I have the memory of a goldfish, and never remembered to watch it.

So what does all this have to do with Rayearth?

Again, spoilers ahead.

Notice how "rescue" is in quotes in that synopsis?

That's because the girls weren't transported to Cephiro to rescue the princess.

And I don't think a total role reversal would have worked as well -- girls saving a prince, that is. Too obvious, and yes, this is just giving you more space to avoid reading the next bit and ruining the twist ending.

As I was saying, the girls weren't transported to Cephiro to rescue the princess.

They were brought there to kill her.

Brought there by the princess herself for that reason.

The characters, and the reader, found this out at the very, very end. The end of what was up until that point a well-written, beautifully-illustrated but pretty standard fantasy tale. So this little twist. . . well, I think I either yelled "FUCK" at the top of my lungs, or just stared at the page and said, very quietly, ". . . fuck." Volume level notwithstanding, that was the reaction.

However, I tell a lie. This was the end of part one of the series. I still haven't read part 2; bought the Japanese versions at The Mall Formerly Known As Yaohan years back, but never printed out the translations so I could actually understand the thing(s).

So don't spoil those for me.

Want to know more? Browse links at the Magic Knight Rayearth page at the new-redesign-to-me-but-I-rarely-visit Anime Web Turnpike.

Seriously, even if I did just ruin the ending for you, it's a gorgeous book. All CLAMP's work is, really.

Update: links added here and there, including one that explains why I mentioned The Tick, if you bother clicking the thing.

Posted by Aaron at 2:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

n(ow) p(laying) -- Tidal, Fiona Apple

Light posting schedule today. And I mean it this time.

Posted by Aaron at 10:01 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

From the MT-Blacklist news and information page:

11/04/2003: New version (v1.6) coming out today. See this weblog thread for more details.

In which thread is described "a fairly major bug in MT-Blacklist that prevents the program from finding recent spam."

Nervous nellie, am I? Feh.

Added the twat to the blacklist after the first attack, but now I've put the IP address (209.208.9.254, for those of you playing the home game) in the block list in MT itself. If I was a Perl hacker, I'd add some functionality allowing you to hit that, and get a pop-up asking for the location of your MT-Blacklist install to make adding it a breeze. Has the potential for abuse, but doesn't everything?

And again, I says feh.

Posted by Aaron at 3:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

BlackVibes.com :: Attorneys Hope Bronx Rapper Is Released:

A judge has cleared the way for the release of rapper Ricky "Slick Rick" Walters, ruling the government erred in imprisoning him in an immigration case, and his attorneys hope he will be released Tuesday.

Federal Judge Kimba Wood said the Board of Immigration Appeals should never have reversed its earlier decision that the British-born rapper is a legal U.S. resident. Walters has been jailed 17 months in Bradenton, Fla.

It was unclear just when the Hip-Hop Hall of Famer would be freed. A spokesman for U.S. Attorney James B. Comey said the civil arm of the prosecutor's office could not immediately comment on the case. The rapper's attorney, Alex Solomiany, said that Walters, 38, was "very happy and looking forward to getting released."

And I'm sure we'll be reimbursing him for lost income and all that while he was. . . no, can't even finish that. And no need for the negativity; at least the brother is finally getting released.

Thanks to Jason for sending this; guess I should change your nick in light of how Angel is trending so far this season. . .

Now if we can just get the ODB out of prison.

He is still in prison, right? It's hard to keep track. . .

Update: Oh, right. Remind me to mention this to Boogieman next time I actually post a comment at someone else's blog.

Posted by Aaron at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

Never really wrote about termination, that I remember:

Beginning in 1900 with Charles Curtis (Kaw/Osage) who was named to chair the U.S. House Committee on Indian Affairs (he later served as a Congressman and Senator before being elected as Vice- President of the United States under President Herbert Hoover), there was a concerted effort to do away with American Indian Tribes and pursue a policy of assimilation that proved to be so destructive to Tribes. Later, the U.S. Congress would formally apologize for its errors in judgement. The efforts made it very difficult for Tribes to maintain their traditional governments and sovereignty, but they did. This was especially true in Oregon where Tribes were formally terminated by the U.S. government as a means to disband them. These and other efforts were difficult times for the Tribes since most reservations were either abolished or severely shrunk in size using the Dawes General Allotment Act to legitimatize those efforts.

Probably because it would seem too negative compared to the things I do normally write about.

Anyway, from today's Indianz.com: News > Judge says law terminated all Indian claims in R.I.

A federal judge in Rhode Island has dismissed the land claim of the unrecognized Seaconke Wampanoag Tribe.

U.S. District Court Judge William Smith said that the 1978 federal law that settled the Narragansett Tribe's land claim also extinguished all other Indian claims in the state.

Would write something about how it's all well and good contemporary 'Mercan society continually risks breaking its metaphorical arm patting itself on the back for being so much more tolerant than in the distant -- and not-so-distant -- past, while not actually, you know, rectifying the shitty things done in those less tolerant days.

But, again, negative. And, again, working.

Posted by Aaron at 8:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Indirectly from Salon: "Passing" and the American dream (not quoted because of that whole ad thing, but the article mentioned): Brooke Kroeger's Passing:

Despite the many social changes of the last half-century, many Americans still "pass": black for white, gay for straight, and now in many new ways as well. We tend to think of passing in negative terms--as deceitful, cowardly, a betrayal of one's self. But this compassionate book reveals that many passers today are people of good heart and purpose whose decision to pass is an attempt to bypass injustice, and to be more truly themselves.

Excerpts are available, if you wanted to know more.

The Salon piece also name-checks Colson Whitehead's "The Intuitionist" by way of example (and I have no idea where my copy of that is. . .).

Sure I've mentioned before that one of my paternal grandmother's sisters passed, married a white guy, and was never heard from by the family again.

And that some Cherokee and other folks passed for Black (and how fucked is your existence when you're passing for Black?) to avoid that whole Indian Removal Act thing.

I'd look, but I should be working.

Posted by Aaron at 8:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

BUFFY
I feel like I'm worse than anyone. Honestly, I'm beneath them. My friends, my boyfriends. I feel like I'm not worthy of their love. 'Cause even though they love me, it doesn't mean anything 'cause their opinions don't matter. They don't know. They haven't been through what I've been through. They're not the slayer. I am. Sometimes I feel—(sighs) this is awful—I feel like I'm better than them. Superior.

HOLDEN
Until you can't win. And I thought I was diabolical—or, at least I plan to be. You do have a superiority complex. And you've got an inferiority complex about it. (laughs) Kudos.

BUFFY
It doesn't make any sense.

HOLDEN
(sits forward) Oh, it makes every kind of sense. And it all adds up to you feeling alone. But, Buffy, everybody feels alone. Everybody is, until you die.

From Buffy Episode Transcript #129: "Conversations With Dead People", written by Jane Espenson and Drew Goddard.

Posted by Aaron at 11:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm fascinated by what I leave out. Some months ago a cat I'd had for a decade and raised from a kitten was killed, and I didn't put anything up about it on the journal, mostly because I was upset and really didn't want lots of friendly messages of sympathy at that point (it's not that I'll leave out bad things. But that thing felt private, so it stayed off the blog.)

Neil Gaiman, on writing for his blog/journal/thingee, from Neil Gaiman Responds at Slashdot.

Posted by Aaron at 11:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Click for more information

Posted by Aaron at 10:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)