Two videos with no connection

Amusing.


Hard Copy investigated the hell out of a Nine Inch Nails music video 20-odd years ago. "Nine Inch Noise" indeed.

A letter to the pro-lifers I see everyday

My commute each day takes me past a Planned Parenthood. Most days I see you, plodding along just outside the painted line indicating private property, sign in hand or hanging from your neck. Usually these signs include some variation of the words baby and murder -- thanks for not having those huge gross photo ones. I try not to make eye contact with you as I ride past. But I notice you mostly. I see you so much you are blending into the background.

Yesterday you weren't there. Was it because it was raining? Does the "40 Days of Life" campaign only include sunny days? Not to be too quick to judge someone of course, because you have been there on other bad weather days. But yesterday there was an attractive young girl going into the clinic -- if you had been there to shout and chase her she may have reconsidered the possibility of two lives ruined.

One time I saw a girl screaming at you as she rode by on her bike in the opposite direction. Something along the lines of "Get a life!" Which is an interesting choice of words, don't you think? That must have been exciting. Does it satisfy you to draw the occasional strong reaction? To me walking up and down the street with signs seems like a boring way to spend the day, so the occasional heckler might spice things up.

Still, I wonder what it is that motivates you to brave the elements everyday (yesterday excepted of course). Do you see yourselves making a difference in the lives of these girls, and more importantly for you I suspect, the lives of the unborn? Perhaps you recently saw the movie "Juno" and think that you can inspire a bittersweet movie-style ending for a live family-type unit? There's one guy that is always mumbling an unrecognizable prayer -- are you speaking God's honest truth? Or are you just a nutbag?

Quotes and a question on the World Series

One year after New York had its 13-year string of reaching the postseason stopped, the Yankees did what everyone expected them to do - spend money. And spend they did, as they paid a combined $423.5 million last winter for the services of three players: starting pitchers CC Sabathia (7-years, $161 million) and A.J. Burnett (5-years, $82.5 million) and first baseman Mark Teixeira (8-years, $180 million).
The moves paid off, as the Yanks returned to the postseason after winning the AL East for the 10th time in the last 12 years with a major league best 103 wins.

-Seattle Post-Intelligencer

"It's like a nothing city. It's just insignificant in comparison to New York."
Another Yankee fan, Laura Nidelle, 24, insists the Yuengling-slinging rubes in Philly are uncultured and uninteresting -- and go to bed too early.
"I briefly lived in Philadelphia and I couldn't wait to get out," the Brooklyn writer said. "Their fans are whiners, the food is lousy and there is nothing to do.

-New York Post

According to investigators, Finkelstein posted an ad on the website Craigslist that read:
"DESPERATE BLONDE NEEDS WS TIX (Philadelphia)
"Diehard Phillies fan--gorgeous tall buxom blonde-- in desperate need of two World Series Tickets. Price negotiable--- I'm the creative type! Maybe we can help each other!"
After that ad was posted an undercover officer responded and, police say, Finkelstein offered to perform various sex acts in exchange for World Series tickets.

-6abc

Standing between the Yankees and their 27th World Series title are the Philadelphia Phillies, the defending champions. This is a club made of steel, playing some of the best ball in the history of franchise. What they lack in certain departments is made up for in guts and resolve; for the Phillies, no lead is insurmountable. Opponents pay dearly for leaving them even the tiniest windows of opportunity – just ask the Los Angeles Dodgers, who were an out away from levelling the National League Championship at two games apiece when Jimmy Rollins blew away Jonathan Broxton with a game-winning double. It's no wonder the American football-loving locals have fallen for this club – even their fiercest enemies can't help but admire what this franchise has accomplished after a long legacy of losing.

-Guardian

Here we have an attempt at the rare Symbiotic Trapezoid Quote. The topic is the World Series, underway tonight in the Bronx. The storylines and characters are primed for the best fall classic since Giants-Angels in 2002. Clutch hitters, proven starting pitching, intangibles and abstract abilities above normal for both. But you know all that.

What intrigues me, besides of course homerism, are matters of relative culture and geography. Like Boston, Philadelphia is a little brother to New York. Anyone who has spent a significant amount of time thereabouts can vouch for this. There is a certain East Coast similarity, but far be it from me to make any hard comparisons lest I get jumped by a drunk Philadelphian with a chip on his shoulder, or a roman candle shot in my eye while climbing a tree.

When viewed through the lens of television, the sibling dynamic between the two cities is easy. New York is a dominant cultural force, while dismissing Philly's efforts as cute at best. Which may or may not be accurate (It is). The point is the Phillies take an underdog role to the Yankees juggernaut. Objectively on the field it's arguable whether this is correct -- The Phillies won it all last year, and with few exceptions this Yankees team hasn't won anything. But its not cool to be contrarian, so running out the string on that argument would be pointless.

But where else can I go with this? Sports fans as religious fanatics? I suppose that could be hacked out, but I want to get this thing posted before the start of Game 1. No -- as much as I want to create a "sports orthodoxy" rankings or some such gibberish, that will have to come later, after I've had a bit to drink while watching college gymnastics on the Big Ten Network.

So nevermind that. The question I want answered is this: "If the Phillies win the World Series, will it ease the city's collective inferiority complex in regard to New York?" I'm leaning toward "indubitably."

Navel Gazing

It feels like I've been stuck in a rut the past month or so and I don't know why exactly -- a combination of shitty weather and encroaching ennui. Bottom line is something needed to be done to shake things up. A sudden jolt to the system to increase vitality. I considered buying a last minute ticket to Chicago for college homecoming weekend, but did not. Instead a group of miscreants from around here will be traveling to the middle of bumblefuck Pennsylvania -- a cabin miles from anything. Hopefully someone will bring a gun to fire into the mountain. I'm not sure if "the cabin" has ever been mentioned here before ... it is a thing, that's for sure. Schwab mentioned it in a comment that had nothing to do with the post, I think.

Anyway, that's the fucking plan. An escape from realitosis, if you will -- maybe not a full retaking of collegiate self-destruction, but damn close and with fewer Indians and Jews. I know what you are probably thinking -- what does this have to do with a baby holding a gun in its mouth? There is a reason, but I won't put it out there at this point, because it doesn't make a whole of sense.



Changing the subject to ennui's vindictive German cousin, schadenfruede, go read this interview with Bronson Pinchot, in which he hates on such luminaries as Tom Cruise and Denzel Washington from the perspective of a coworker. It's been tearing up the Web the past week or so, the consensus being it is one of the best "Random Roles" outside of this one with Teri Garr, where she talks shit about someone, questions herself, and then says "Fuck it, he's dead."

GoodPhillies

Later, Shane Victorino beat Don Mattingly to death and buried the body in upstate New York. Is that a good, sense-making metaphor? Probably not, because Henry Hill is clearly a "fan" in this video and not a member of the team. Although he is cheering "Jimmy" who in the movie is a member of his criminal "team." So maybe Hill represents some teammate of Rollins, cheering from the dugout. But he is in the shower, so that doesn't work. Perhaps its a teammate who is in the locker room shower? This is all very confusing.

Another overthought note: It was a bummer when I realized that throwaway post yesterday about the exploding, flying anvil pushed grant's 20-spot on living in Africa down the page. I mean, grant's thing was real actual content, not just regurgitation. Although in fairness, the lone joke I bothered to write was not plagiarized from an Internet message board or anything like that. Original words and sentence structure! Then I decided the juxtaposition of real-life adventures in Uganda with a video about a "world champion anvil shooter" is at least fitting, if not appropriate. Also if you are inclined you can read more Africa stuff at the excitingly named Adventures of Grant and Ann. It has pictures.

News you can use: Flying Anvils edition

They said man wasn't meant to make an anvil fly 200 feet in the air via explosion. They were wrong.

African Booty Scratcher

I've been in Kampala, Uganda for about 3 weeks now. I'm doing HIV/AIDS research at the Infectious Disease Institute (IDI) and Mulago Hospital. I'll be here until June 1st, 2010 at which point I will fly to Amsterdam for a week. Back in the US on June 8th. I have some observations that I'd like to share. If anything seems of poor taste please consider the humor and/or frustration. Realize that I am one of those bleeding heart liberals and as such am immune to any accusations of being racist, sexist, etc.


Denial is a river in Uganda.

1. There are a lot of black people here. I'm serious.
2. Because I am white, everyone stares at me. Little kids always say "hi/bye mzungu" which translates to white person. Some literally come up to me and want to touch me. Strange.
3. I walk through a shanty town to work. I will admit that I get nervous. It doesn't help that a number of the whities who have taken this path previously have been robbed at some point in their stay here. I need to find a new path.
4. Drivers in Africa follow no rules. Crossing the street (no crosswalks) is like Frogger. My girlfriend considered buying a car for the time we're here. I must say she's is out of her damn mind.
5. There is a strange fascination with country music amongst some of the population. They also have a thing for 80's and 90's music. I'm having some major flashbacks to elementary, junior and senior high. Listening to Africans sing along with shitty American music is both hilarious and sad. Maybe one day they'll discover something like Mastodon. Maybe it's my duty to introduce them.
6. I watched Uganda's equivalent to the NBA. I know two players on a club team here and went to one of their games. One of the guys is apparently Uganda's highest paid athlete and he makes about $35,000 a year or so. That's pretty good here. The game was played outdoors at the YMCA...tar court, mattresses against the wall under the basket, wood backboards, and a really annoying announcer. The fans are hilarious with their heckling...basically because they speak with an accent and use ridiculous phrases that are more polite than heckle. This wouldn't fly in the US. "Pass the ball, you do not need to be the superstar in this game." My girlfriend yelled out "bullshit" after a call and I didn't know if that would fly. I wanted to quote Coming to America during a lull in the action "yes, yes in his face" but realized that no one would get the reference. A few of the players were pretty good and could probably play D1. Not sure about the pros though. Only 7 foot Africans get to play in the NBA. It's a rule.
7. The beer here sucks. What I would give for an IPA or Pale Ale. All they drink are lagers. They all taste the same, which is to say like piss.
8. Classic Ugandan food is not the best. My only exposure to it is at the IDI canteen for lunch every weekday. It consists of posho (solidified corn meal), rice, matoke (mashed plantains), potatoes, kasava (a tasteless root), sweet potatoes, as well as your choice of a protein (fish, chicken, beef, beans or g nut sauce). I usually go for the beans or g nut sauce. G nuts (ground nuts) basically taste like peanuts. However the sauce doesn't taste like peanut butter; still, it is tasty. Can't complain as it costs about $0.25 or $0.50 for lunch. I suppose the fresh fruit is pretty nice too, however I'm tired of bananas.
9. I eat at an Indian restaurant multiple times a week. There are numerous in the city and it is my meal of choice. Large South Asian presence here.
10. I thought all Africans were skinny. There are some hefty women here...not American hefty, but still. It must be all the carbs in their food.
11. The internet is slow as shit. Honestly, it's like we're back on dialup with AOL.
12. My apartment. How often does the water need to shut off? Can we go a whole week with running water, is that too much to ask? The blackouts get annoying too. At least we have flashlights and it typically is back in a few hours. The water will go out for days at a time. Not good when you sweat like a pig and it's dusty as hell. We have backup water for showers and toilet in the form of giant water jugs. Loads of fun.
13. Laundry. Yeah, I'll be doing this by hand. Awesome.
14. Wildlife. Crazy ass birds everywhere. Some people also have goats and chickens in their yards and/or roaming around the neighborhood. This is in a city of 1.5-2 million! The best was when I saw a herd of longhorn cattle walk by me on my road as I was getting dropped off by a taxi. Honestly, wtf?


15. People try to rip me off because I am white. This is usually the taxi and boda (motorbike taxi) drivers. Getting better at bartering.
16. Things fall into disrepair and basically stay that way. The roads are terrible. The sidewalks too. Although sidewalks are a luxury. Usually I'm walking down the side of the road hoping not to get hit by something. That's the way they do it, so I guess I need to get used to it.
17. The city is really interesting in that it is built on numerous hills. Basically the richest live at the top. The poor are at the bottom. The poverty here is eye opening. We are pretty lucky in the US, but honestly the way things are going (rich punking the poor over and over and over...) we might end up similarly. I'm looking forward to a post-apocalyptic world. This is assuming it happens in my lifetime.
18. Everyone has cell phones and they buy minutes as they need them. Much better system for those of us who never talk on the phone and overpay for the service in the US.
19. I never understood the impact of HIV/AIDS until now. It's such a minor problem in the US, but it is everywhere here. We really need to find a cure. There shouldn't be children living with HIV due to no fault of their own.
20. This really is an interesting place and it's starting to grow on me. I do miss some of the things we take for granted in the US, but it's an experience I'll never forget. Being here for 8 months will allow me plenty of time to explore East Africa. I'm looking forward to the many trips we plan to make while here. Especially those dealing with monkeys and apes...

Rollins no punk

Its always a good day when long-time Philly sports columnist and surfer Bill Conlin uses the term "spiked jackboots" in a column. When it comes after a improbable walk-off win over the Dodgers, all the better. In fact, that column is epic -- just like last night's game. Not that I would know, because I fell asleep.

Terrible. The only excuse is that I am still recovering from the binge I went on after the Game 2 loss. Which was what, 4 days ago? It's a bit hazy. I do remember screaming in a friend of mines' face at the bar. And running after some weird long-haired white animal that was later determined to be a skunk. Good times. Where was I?

Oh right:

Some nights you get the Big Dodger in the Sky. And some nights the Big Dodger in the Sky gets you.

Artistic growth?

I remember when I heard Kanye's first album, and was all like -- this shit is awesome (no more borrowing from mom for my high). But then his second album came out and I was disappointed. Fuck that Golddigger song. Jamie Foxx should stick to movies about musicians and football players. But despite my personal opinion West became more famous and popular. Later there was backlash from the drunken award show antics. But who doesn't have demons right? Just gotta cut them out of your stomach after vomiting up rose petals.

edit: Original taken down, so its been replaced by this shoddier Youtube version. Until that gets taken down as well, at which point it will be replaced (per anonymous' suggestion) by a picture of Carlos Ruiz/goats. Or you know, not.

Today, we are all balloon boy

This is what happens when I take a "sick day" and avoid all news or news-type information for a day: The biggest non-story of the year breaks. It's got everything one would want in a hyped-up piece of bullshit: A missing child, home-made mylar balloons, an amateur scientist experiment gone wrong because of meddling kids, live video of an inanimate object, and vomiting. It's like the OJ's white bronco chase, without the tragedy of a murdered white woman.

So no one died, or even suffered a disfiguring injury. Which is a shame, because now it's open season for jokes about the situation, instead of just callous assholes like myself making inappropriate and possibly offensive comments. For example: The kid's name is "Falcon" which would have been awesome if he had in fact fell to his death. Because he couldn't fly, you see. But no, now yesterday will go down in history alongside such hilarious media overreactions to non-moments as the day Paris Hilton was arrested, the Michael Phelps bong picture, and Dick Cheney shooting his friend in the face. Such is life.

Was it all a publicity grab? Is it wrong to exploit the hysteria of a 24-hour news cycle for another chance to appear on the television show Wife Swap? I don't think it's wrong to say anyone who deeply cares about the travails of this family should be publicly flogged. In fact, that could just be the shiny new non-event that next captures the public's imagination. A game show in which idiots compete to see who cares the least about the latest Wolf Blitzer inanity, with the threat of corporal punishment for the loser(s). The bottom line is with any luck at least a few of the lives in this family are ruined forever, wilted in the glare of the harsh spotlight in a world they never made.

My keyboard works again!

Never underestimate the healing powers of "letting that shit chill for a while" to fix what's broken. It even works on inanimate objects with no regenerative properties whatsoever. I'm going to celebrate by typing up a passage from The Great Shark Hunt that caught my eye while I was on the shitter.

That's fine, I said. But I couldn't really get into it. I was all for it, you understand, but only on the basis of a personal friendship. Most of my friends are into into strange things I don't totally understand—and with a few shameful exceptions I wish them all well. Who am I, after all, to tell some friend he shouldn't change his name to Oliver High, get rid of his family and join a Satanism cult in Seattle? Or to argue with another friend who wants to buy a single-shot Remington Fireball so he can go out and shoot cops from a safe distance?
Whatever's right, I say. Never fuck with a friend's head by accident. And if their private trips get out of control now and then—well, you do what has to be done.

-Strange Rumblings in Aztlan

I love this team

Filled with adulterated glee, fueled by booze bukkake, Brett Myers later continued to celebrate the Phillies come from behind win in Colorado by paying a 19-year-old University of Denver freshman to beat the shit out of a bum with an empty champagne bottle. That bum's name? Dante Bichette. After coming to, Bichette was arrested for trying to enact a poorly conceived revenge beating, considering the Phillies had already flown back to Philadelphia while he was unconscious and bleeding in a bus terminal bathroom.

Jesus. Where the hell did that come from? Surely if I had typed something last night during the game it wouldn't be as depraved. It's unfortunate then that my auxiliary keyboard went on the fritz -- rendering me unable to type the letters m and h. In the past I have worked around this by copy and pasting them from various other websites. But last night jangled nerves and tired eyes prevented any such emergence. So here I am the next morning trying to capture some of the paling joy afforded myself and the rest of the Philadelphia region.

It was (is?) a great feeling -- something akin to this, in which the Phillies are the car, the kids at the bus stop are the Huston Street and Rockies, and the fans are the excited commentator. In this analogy Ryan Howard is the front driver side tire (or tyre, in the parlance of that video) and Chase Utley is the puddle.

Soaking British schoolchildren aside, not everyone feels this way. Take for example the salesperson I overheard this morning, whom I pity. She said something along the lines of "They were playing bad so I turned on 'Dancing with the Stars' and then I turned back and it was 4-2, did they win?" These are the perils of working in an office with aging dinosaurs.

But who cares about that woman right? Go sell some print ads to car dealers while you can you old battle-ax. For the rest of us this is a time to bask in the reflected glory of our sports heroes, until Thursday. These are men who refuse to give up even when everyone else is filled with dread. Men who say badass shit like "Get me to the plate boys" and then back it up. Men who spit in the face of people named Yorvit. As they should.

So banal

This video makes me want to beat "Internet" people over the head and back with reprints of classical paintings, and then stab them with the shards of the broken wood frames. But it has animals! That cat is riding a Roomba!

This is bad news ... for Obama

"Thoughts like a hundred moths. Trapped in a lampshade."

That Rage Against the Machine lyric seems as good a place as any to start what is sure to be a meandering, often pointless exercise in typing. Hmmm, born of a broken man. Still, better to put these political thoughts out there, into the internet ether, than not. Will it make sense? Will it matter?



One idea that has been bouncing around my skull for the past week or so concerns the Olympics, or lack thereof. Single tear for Chicago and all that. But anyone who doubted that the games were going to Rio is an idiot, in retrospect. The only question that remains now is how "City of God" relates to the new inclusion of golf as a medal sport. Well maybe not the only question, but the number of questions that remain is not germane to much, if anything. The point in this case is how it relates to American presidential politics.

Obama critics scored cheap points following this perceived defeat. Which is fine, if you are into spite. Krugman sums it up well. It seems to me that this decision (flying to Copenhagen to campaign for his adopted hometown) was made with emotion, not logic. A rookie presidential mistake perhaps? Opening oneself up for attacks by trying to do good for country and city. It does seem half-assed, flying around the world for a couple hours to try and make up for however many years of ill-will sown by previous administrations. But that could very well be the nut of the Obama presidency thus far: Frantic, futile scrambling after years of going down the perceived wrong path. Perceived? Way to hedge your bets you spineless alarmist.



This brings us to the news of the day: Obama won the Nobel Peace Prize. It is a bit surprising, even though he's first person of color to elected the top office in a Western Nation, and extended an olive branch to the world, somehow despite two wars. But he's only been in office for 9 months or so. It is natural to assume that the award is more for what Obama represents, than what he has actually accomplished. This is acceptable, symbolism. The politics of hope get votes. But it's still just a marketing gimmick. For every story about tossing lobbyists out of high-powered panels, there seems to be ten on how he's just another tool for the oligarchy, all from Matt Taibbi.

Gah. Politics. Thinking too much about it strains my lymphatic system. So I guess I'll just press publish and go look at halloween costumes.

Carlos Ruiz is underappreciated, pudgy

There is no doubt catcher is one of less glamorous positions in sport. There are exceptions of course but do not let them distract you from the squatting anonymity most mask-wearing men behind the plate enjoy. And Carlos is the rule, not the exception. Some local fans call him Chooch, and less call him Hot Carl, but these nicknames do nothing for the general public. Outside of Philadelphia and Panama the man can walk down the street with nary a person approaching him for an autograph or a job not on a banana plantation.

The fact is the man should have been the World Series MVP last year, but whoever chooses that award instead went with the feminine aloofness of Cole Hamels. One can only assume that the World Series MVP voters don't take much heed in "tough outs" or "blocking balls in the dirt" or even "handling the pitching staff." But Holy Sweating Jesus, give the man his due. He does in fact do all of those things and likely more. Somebody knows this, why else would he be featured on the World Series poster I have, twice.

Books. Books? Books!

There are few things more satisfying than a good book. In particular a book you own -- not those cheap sluts from the library. You don't know where those things have been. Although if you want something quick and easy there's damn near one in every town. The point is that I recently bought a couple books, from an independent bookstore.

First off, as you may have discerned from the picture up top, is The Great Shark Hunt by Hunter S. Thompson. This thing is a massive collection of his writings and essays from when he was in his prime. A veritable HST reader. Just great stuff -- take for example "The Kentucky Derby is Decadent and Depraved" in which he starts by laying a terrible lie on some Texan about the Black Panthers starting a riot, and then he and Steadman devolve into drunken chaos and macings. I am a huge HST nerd, so this thing is like catnip.

The other one, if you care, is The Crying of Lot 49, by Thomas Pynchon. I've long wanted to try out one of this reclusive bastard's books, and this one is only 150 pages long or so, far less daunting than say Gravity's Rainbow. It's hilarious, puns and all. Also it makes me feel smart to understand the symbolism of the main character putting on like 50 articles of clothing for a game of strip "guess how this movie that I was in as a child actor ends." That's a game right?

So remember, reading is fun and educational, as long as it's not Jonathan Ames, who apparently "bangs the ugliest grad students."

The world is ending for some reason

New conventional wisdom: Collapsing buildings are best dodged in limousines.

Fall television, yes?

Like most Americans, I get extremely excited when a new TV season dawns. Near hysteria, like a political debate during the birth of a child. This is especially true these days now that we are in what's been dubbed somewhere as a new "Golden Age of TV." Unfortunately the sheer number of channels and shows means that you have to wade through all manner of dreck to reach the sweet goodness. Here's what I, and thus you, should be watching. Be warned: I have like every goddamn channel in the world, so you may not have access to these shows. If that is the case I recommend you tune into Jay Leno.

Amazing Race (CBS)
Reality TV is not my bag, this is the exception that proves the rule. Teams of two race around the world, with lots of arguing. Usually the teams fit into some neat little category: For example this season has "The Massholes" "The Christian Douchebags" and "The nerdy friends, one of whom has Asperger's Syndrome" as I call them. But the the real stars of the show are the locations and local people, which are varied and awesome. Although the first episode was the worst I've ever seen, with the contestants competing in a Japanese Game Show.

Californication (Showtime)
For some reason I resisted this until recently. Something about a series on Showtime seemed unnatural and wrong. But Jesus Christ this show. You know its raw when some guy does the Mangina and it's par for the course. Damn you Pope! A plotline from season's past include David Duchovny's character having his novel "Fucking and Punching" stolen by the teenager that was part of his inspiration for the book. Also you can watch the first episode of the new season on Youtube, but it is heavily censored for good or ill.

Bored to Death (HBO)
Look past the show's lame-ass yet accurate tagline "A Noir-rotic Comedy" because it may be quite good. I wasn't sold on the pilot, but the second episode had me rolling a couple times, particularly the bits with Ted Danson and Zach Galafinakis. The jury is still out, but it has promise with its weird darkness.

Community (NBC)
Aided by a somehow funny again Chevy Chase, that guy from The Soup (basically playing himself) makes his way through a community college filled with various misfits and eccentrics. It's funny because he's a cynic surrounded by idiots.

Also watched: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia (Kitten Mittens!), Sons of Anarchy, The Office. There's others too, but I don't give a shit about this post anymore.

Of fucking course

Finally someone has answered the question no one was asking, "What if Skeletor was an American Apparel model living in Williamsburg, Brooklyn?" Our long national nightmare is finally over. Or just beginning. Via The Awl