Extra Virgin After Two Cocktails

Facebook

So I've signed up for FaceBook and spent a fair amount of time exploring. To quote a co-worker: I'm still not sure why this is fun. Maybe one day, I'll have a FaceBook epiphany. Until then, it's in the "research for work" category.

If you want to find me and manage to do so, give me a poke.

Update: Masters of Horror

A few days ago, I provided a tepid review of the Masters of Horror television series on Showtime. I stand by that post. However, I just watched Joe Dante's second season entry, "The Screwfly Solution", and must say it bordered on genius. In fact, I'd say it was fantastic until the surprise ending, which--though cool and appropriate for the genre--sort of demoted the movie into just another SF narrative. For most episodes, that would be step up. But Dante is showing that maybe the limitations of the small screen are just what he needs. His first season show "Homecoming" is still the best so far.

His latest episode did include the single creepiest image in the entire series: A billboard of a woman in a bathing suit vandalized to look like she's wearing a burka. In the context of the plot, it was shocking in that it's not entirely unbelievable for our red state brothers.

Finally, if the masters are too scary for you, check this: The Amateurs of Horror and their tale of Douglas the Zombie.

Last Night

The usual suspects and I went into deepest Virginia to see The Witches of Eastwick at Signature Theatre. I'm no expert, but this seemed like just another mediocre musical to me. The songs were well sung, but unmemorable. And our front-row seats let us see all the cracks and seams in the productions. Surprising for the usually top-notch Signature. At least it had corny effects (like flying) and multiple crotch grabs.

Dinner at Xtra Virgin was also just OK, and only elevated to great heights by our unstable waiter who performed tricks, such as blaming others for his mistakes and trying to pour a martini from one glass to another--very, very badly. The saving grace: A live girl singer performing Pink Floyd's "Breathe" on acoustic guitar. The coup de grâce: A dense and warm chocolate and almond cake that was so comforting and delicious I want furniture made out of it.

Insult of the Day

From Defamer's story about Robin William's antics on the Today Show and his complete lack of blow in his blood:

"It's a vivid reminder that one needn't partake in drugs and alcohol to make a prolific amount of comedy--though they do tend to help immensely in making it seem funny."

Sooooo mean, making fun of someone's addiction.

Four stars out of five.

Back of the Bin: Prefab Sprout's "Looking for Atlantis"

"If you're looking for Atlantis, you should cast your eye on me." Produced by the estimable Thomas Dolby in 1990, this helped me get through my last semester of college.

PostSecret Asshole

I've read a lot of sad, creepy, and heartbreakings posts on PostSecret, but this is the only one that's made me physically sick.

Someone seriously needs to have his or her ass whipped.

Why the iPhone Matters

I'm already a fan. Farhad Manjoo explains why you should be, too.

"We all have phones and iPods, but the portable Internet is a fairy tale every tech company has been laboring to realize for a long while. So far, we've got nothing very great. The best portable Internet app is e-mail on a BlackBerry, and it feels stunted compared with what you get on a full machine.

Apple says the iPhone will give us the Internet on the go -- and because Apple has a vaunted history of making good on big claims about consumer technology, it's wise to take it seriously."

Update: Check out a video blog of the iPhone line in Manhattan. The feed stopped at 10:39 AM, so we don't, in fact, get to see any hipsters trampled in the bumrush for the door.

A Long Time Ago, Indeed

Marvel to the wonderful musical stylings of The Borden Family, a swell gang of Canadians whose 1980 album Good Times sounds like the Charlie's Angels band playing drunk at the airport Holiday Inn. And that a good thing. From the liner notes:

"GOOD TIMES...with a variety of good music (from Polkas & Waltzes to Rock & Roll) have been the key to the success of the "BORDENS", a versatile family dance band..."

Here's their version of the Theme From Star Wars. Where's my mai tai? Gotta light?

Hat tip: Boing Boing.

Insult of the Day

From HuffPo blogger Steve Young, in a letter ostensibly written by Satan, himself:

"But I guess there comes a time for everyone to dig deep, take a good long look at their body of work and examine its value. So it is that I need to apologize for the existence of Ann Coulter. Quite frankly, I don't know what I was thinking."

Subtle, in a college composition class kind of way. (Later, he compares her to a turd, in more of a junior high school bong hit kind of way.)

Three stars out of five.

Jazz Thursday: Do I Love You?

From the great, great Cole Porter, as sung by Aztec Camera.

Under Your Spell

How excited am I? The Avalon Theatre is hosting an audience sing-a-long for the one, the only, the Buffy musical on July 20 and 21.

For those of you who don't know, "Once More With Feeling," the musical episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, is possibly one of the best hours of television ever broadcast in America. To be able to see it again, with a crowd of BTVS nerds will be--what is the word?--H-E-A-V-E-N.

But I'm not wearing a costume. Probably.

Hat tip: DCist.

A Photo or Two

My friend Tony is an accomplished photographer who's been moving from traditional landscapes and portraits into more "abstract" territory recently. (I had to use quotes because my photography instructor said that a photograph, because it's a representation of the real world, can never be truly abstract. Oh, whatever.)

Call them what you will, these pics are awesome.

Insult of the Day

OK. This is complicated. From KarenUhOh via Gawker about The New Republic publisher Marty Peretz. Peretz apparently promised that the new biweekly version of TNR would be 80 pages, but only delivered 56. And blah, blah, Zzzzzzz...

"Marty Peretz? I wouldn't know the man if he was in the stall next to me. My guess is he's about a 40-page douchebag."

Hmmmmm. Perhaps this one probably wasn't worth even the Ctrl-C. But the phrase "40-page douchebag" is one for the ages. Whatever it means.

Two stars out of five.

Back of the Bin: Red Guitar

Here's former Japan frontman, David Sylvian, with his New Wave jazz gem Red Guitar. In this beautifully angular song we can hear Sylvian moving away from the pop glam stylings of Japan and catch hints of his high-art ambitions. Songs such as Red Guitar may sound self-conscious to some. You say self-conscious, I say deliberate.

Speaking of which, the video, by filmaker Anton Corbijn, references the images and techniques of highly influential surrealist photographer Angus McBean, who also has an appearance in the film. Historical footnote: McBean, like so many men of his generation, was imprisioned for several years in England for admirable crime of homosexuality.

Zombie Apocalypse Update

Tony shared the zombie quiz with his office mates and all--ALL--have a better chance of surviving than I. True, they own guns and are ruthless in the way only computer programmers can be. But I am a zombie movie freak. Certifiable. You'd think all those hours spent in the dark watching the living dead would give me at least one leg up. Maybe two.

Why Bladerunner FX Still Rock

Mythbuster Adam Savage explains why the special effects in the 25-year-old Bladerunner are still unsurpassed. Key quote:

But they did all of these effects in camera, which even back then was a much more complex way to execute them. The key to this is a motion-control camera — a smart robot, basically — that moves through the city on the same track, over and over again. It's accurate to within a couple thousandths of an inch. They did separate passes, rewinding the film each time and then re-exposing it to add each new element. So they did one pass for the lights on a building, another for the video projection, then a pass for the rain lighting and so on — as many as 16 passes in some cases.

I think part of what Savage is getting at in this article isn't that Bladerunner's FX are perfect. They aren't. But that these non-CGI effects capture something perfect that makes the movie better. That is, their very nature creates a mood; the medium helps the message.

Modern CGI effects approach and often attain complete photorealism. But they really only work when they are completely invisible or retain some kind of Hollywood dreaminess--for example, the Lord of the Rings. But when the fantastical is reduced to mere reality--the latest Star Wars trilogy, the Harry Potter movies, the new Transformers--the most expensive effects in the world become not so very special after all.

Could You Survive a Zombie Apocalypse?

39%
Clearly, I'd have difficulty. Discover your own chances of survival here.

(BTW, this link takes you to Mingle2.com, an online dating site. Which may be scarier than having a zombie eat your face off. Just saying.)

Time Capsule Tuesdays: Schoolhouse Rocks

Schoolhouse Rocks is pretty much played out nowadays, thanks to all you lame hipsters out there. But when I was young, these cartoons really resonated. I remember sitting at my grandmother's house and at school watching and singing these songs. That's how ubiquitous they were. And while singing never helped my multiplication tables, the segment explaining how a bill becomes a law actually taught me something useful. Take that, Sunday School!

I'm posting Three Is a Magic Number for no other reason than the line "A man and a woman had a little baby. They had three in the family." My parents were divorced by this time, I had two brothers, and even then was super gay. So this song became one of my first clues that 1) the media lies, and 2) the expressed culture doesn't always reflect the actual culture. Fuckers.

Insult of the Day

Matt Taibbi in Rolling Stone:

Bush was really not much of a Republican at all – more like a retarded Christian AA version of Woodrow Wilson.

He's not really trying very hard here, but we like where he's going with this.

Three stars out of five.

Hat tip: Daily Dish.

Superstar

Since we seem to be in a 70's kind of mood today, here's Sonic Youth's cover of Superstar, the Carpenters weepie from '71. This particular meeting of the minds creates some exquisite dislocation, and bumps the Carpenters' ever-present creepiness to the forefront. SY thankfully drains the original's sappiness, only to reprocess it into yummy pop syrup!

Vice-President for Torture

I'm a big Andrew Sullivan fan. Even when he's wrong. His persistent defense of our country's moral obligation not to torture--yes, that's right, we shouldn't torture--is only one of many reasons this man should be read everyday by every thinking American.

A fine example:

...it is a doctrine completely toxic to democratic self-government and to the entire principle of a president obedient to the rule of law. It is tyranny - enabled by lawyers. It is really stunning in retrospect how adamant Cheney is on this, and how utterly contemptuous of public and world opinion he is. It is almost as if torture is his primary weapon in the war. You get the distinct sense that, in wartime, he finds democracy itself repugnant. The feeling, Mr Vice-president, is mutual.

Blog Update

My ongoing feature Insult of the Week has become Insult of the Day. The first post in this new format is below.

Q: Why the change?

A: Visitors like this feature.

Q: Why do people like it?

A: Because they are mean.

And If You Need More Beards

You can go to Beards.org, your online guide to everything--and I mean everything--beardy. Topics include how-to's, photo galleries, and even videos. Yes, videos. Of beards.

I found the beard style guide particularly handy, because I like to change up my whiskers often. Currently, I sport an "extended goatee." Wonder how a "chin curtain" would look?

Beardy Goodness

Just finished watching one of VH1's catalog shows. This one listed the best/worst softrock songs of all time. Now, I could write for hours about the dumb irony of "so bad it's good" hipsterism, or the emptiness of creating any kind of dichotomy between "high" and "low" art. But what completely captivated me was all the hairy, bearded, groovy guys this show highlighted. Whether it was the guys from Orleans (Still the One, indeed) or Rupert Holmes (remember the Pina Colado Song?), it pulled me right back into the 70s, at the exact moment when my brain was ready to be imprinted with the concept of Hot Guy. All I need now is a Camero, a fu manchu stache, and tight flares. Grrrrrr.

BTW, one of the commenters for this particular VH1 show was JD Ryznar, one of the writers/actors on Acceptable TV. He and several of his peers on Acceptable TV are equally beardy and slobby, in that almost-trying-too-hard hipster way. The show is just passable. The men are hairy nerds. Again, grrrr.

Insult of the Week Day

From the Guardian's "Sgt. Pepper Must Die!," a series of interviews with rock celebrities slamming the most overrated albums ever. Here's Billy Childish, "prime mover of British garage rock," dishing Sgt. Pepper.

It sounds like it took six months to shit out. The Beatles were the victims of their success. This is middle-of-the-road rock music for plumbers. Or people who drive round in Citroens - the sort of corporate hippies who ruined rock music.

Me-OUCH! Of course, it would have more bite if anyone knew who the fuck Billy Childish is.
Two stars our of five.

The Cuddly Menace

While reviewing old IE bookmarks and letting fate take me where it will, I found this: A remix of a kids' book--My Little Golden Book About God--with a Scientology-worthy tale of invasion and control. Or as the author tells it

...a primer for the parasitic offspring of an invisible invasion! For the safety of our race (if any still remain) I have translated this book in the hopes that a resistance may arise. Read the baby powder scented Final Solution of our enemies from beyond...

Party Down

The husband and I went to a swell neighborhood cookout tonight. The weather could not have been nicer. We met some great guys and gals. Ate a million little brownies--thank you, Costco! Had one margarita. Got one mosquito bite. And only had to walk across the street to get some. Survey says: Perfection!

Over 90 Online Photography Tools and Resources

This amazing list includes online photo editors, how-to blogs, image storage sites, and lots more. Some of the sites are well known--any one heard of Picassa? But others, like the mobile device sharing sites, are news to me. I guess I know what I'm going to be spending my Sunday doing.

Hat tip: Mashable.com.

What's in a New Name?

People have trouble with the name of this site. That was semi-intentional on my part. But after spelling "ecstatic" for the 300th time, I'm wondering if I took a wrong turn somewhere in URLville.

A co-worker, who's a much better writer than I, suggested that I call this blog GayCatsOnTV.com. Accurate and has a nice, generic ring to it, likes Snakes on a Plane. When I typed "gay" and "cat" into domain name generator NameBoy.com, it delivered some other ideas--such as HomoCat (so angry), GotGay (very aspirational), and GayestCat (too conceited).

Perhaps I should just stick to the devil I know. (Now, that's a great name for a blog!)

This Never Gets Old

If Microsoft designed the iPod. Be sure the sound is turned on, for full snark.

The Storker Project

Artist Mark Jenkins shows off his tape babies in DC, etc. Funny, creepy, and sad--at the same time.

Photography Banned in Rockville, Maryland

Still not convinced that creeping corporatism is a cancer? Read this. Then visit and take a picture.

Last Night, Just Before the Rain

Masters of Horror

I've been a fan of horror movies since I crept downstairs to watch Fantastic Voyage on my family's new color TV at the age of six. From that time on, I would watch anything, as long it was supposed to be scary or weird or gross. It's been a habit that's hard to break.

Showtime's Master of Horror series would seem to be right up my ally: A-list horror directors allowed to direct whatever they wanted with no restrictions. Except most aren't A-list directors. And there are restrictions. And most were only OK. So what went wrong?

Most of these guys are--unfortunately--past their prime. It happens to everyone. But those who work in the horror genre get hit especially hard. The empathy that comes with age really fucks with one's ability to be transgressive. For example, how many adults hit frogs with baseball bats? Why it that? Now you know why Land of the Dead lacks the bite of Dawn of the Dead.

Most of these guys need restrictions--of time, of budget, of talent--to be creative. Their best work lives in the cracks and subtext of their material. When you can do and show any and every thing, the mystery evaporates.

It is virtually impossible to be scary in one hour. Horror requires rhythm. Establishing rhythm in a hour takes a level of narrative skill these guys just don't have.

Still, some of these master still have the horror in them. Joe Dante's zombie satire Homecoming transcends as both a movie and political rant. Dario Argento heads into psychosexual territory, but ultimately pulls his punches in Jenifer. And Don Coscarelli of Phantasm fame almost hits a homerun with Incident on and off and Mountain Road--but monster design sinks this one fast.

The six-year-old in me hasn't given up. The 44-year-old, on the other hand, is keeping one finger on the remote.

BTW, one thing Masters of Horror does extremely well is start each episode with this inventive and creepy intro.

Architecture Porn

I can't get enough of this website. If only I lived in Italy. And had a $billion. Sigh.

Jazz Thursday: Django Reinhardt, King of Gypsy Jazz

Engineering Animated Model of 9/11 Attack

This generates a weird mix of sadness and scientific curiosity. They don't sit together very comfortably.

Pet Peeves: Commuting

DC is home to one of the world's best subway systems. Metro is clean, safe, accessible, and relatively affordable. It's also a simmering hellhole of billious pet peeves. Let me count the ways.

1. Left over body heat on seats and handrails. Unfortunately also often accompanied by leftover body grease.



2. Slow people, lost people, rude people. There's a theme developing.



3. People who stop moving at the end of the escalator. I've read books on crowd control! I know what can happen!



4. Chatty tourist kids. We're going into a tunnel. I know. I KNOW!



5. Sarcastic riders. Whatever.

Luke, I Am Your Father. Now Eat Your Peas.

See a baby stroller turned into an Imperial death machine. Hat tip: Boing Boing.

DC Is Still Being Observed

I promised to upload one image per day on my photoblog DC Observed. Unfortunately, work got in the way of that for a while. But I just caught up, adding the pics to the days I forsook. Thank you, amazing time machine!

Last Night

Had a rough, long day at work. So I took a walk around Dupont Circle to clear my head. The streets were packed with people, but no one seemed very happy. Including me. Dinner didn't help. More walking didn't help. And it began to feel like rain. It took more than an hour before I remembered that the husband had made cookies for me the night before. Everything (and everyone) suddenly seemed a little happier. And I headed home.

Mac vs. PC Smackdown

I'm in the market for a new computer. Some things I know: It's definitely going to be a high-end laptop. The surprise is that I'm actually considering moving to a Mac. I've done a fair amount of research and--surprisingly--found a number of other PC users who've made the switch. Their reasons mirror mine: I'm sick and tired of babysitting my computer. I hate dealing with compatability issues with software and hardware. I hate being part of a monopolistic monster. The list goes on and on.

On the other hand. All of my software is PC-based. My friend Tony is the best PC helpdesk you could ask for. I haven't used a Mac in 15 years. It's much more expensive. Blah, blah, blah.

But perhaps the real reason I'm considering buying a Mac is that I want to cause trouble. That's T.R.O.U.B.L.E.

Big time.

I want all my PC friends to cry and all my Mac friends to fawn. I want to be the evil soap opera star pulling the strings. Can you hear my evil laugh? Can you?

Decisions, decisions.

I Can See Clearly Now

I have to again point out how cool my new glasses are. The plastic frames are completely flexible and look highly engineered. Like the stealth bomber or something. Tony thought they looked like plastic zip ties, and I don't think he's wrong!

When I purchased them, I told the salesperson that they looked like something you could buy out of a Tokyo vending machine. He looked confused and said, "These aren't disposable."

I believe he missed the point.

Tuesday Time Capsule: Russ Meyers

The first image I ever saw from Russ Meyers was a life-sized cardboard cutout of Up star Raven De La Croix--the so-called "Margot the Magnificent Superchick." Even at that early age, I knew I was as queer as a backwards duck. But something about that very, very larger than life woman fascinated me.

Years later, after I discovered the Sontagian definition of camp, I watched Faster Pussycat! Kill! Kill! Certainly, Meyers's pneumatic "superwomen" and drag performers seemed to share the same DNA. But even that explanation failed to completely satisfy my curiosity.

Later still, I began to watch the Meyers's films with an older and more experienced eye. I discovered that what fascinated me wasn't the just obvious over-the-top details of his women, but their contradictions; Strong, feminine, crazy, loyal, sexual, violent, victimized, victimizer. Ambivalent. Contradictory. Hyper real. And completely fake. They were, as a friend once said about something completely different, "a parody and celebration at the same time." Indeed.

What's not to be fascinated by?

Name That Flavor

I found this in a bag of Starbursts I bought for work. Hmmmm. I wonder what "disco berry" tastes like? Probably a combination of cocaine, lube, and fog machine smoke.

Is this the beginning of a new wave of disco-flavored foods? What do you think?

Sparkling Martini

Went to see world lounge act Pink Martini last night with Tony. I'd seen them once before in an indoor venue, and they were even better this time--despite the sultry temps and overcrowding picnic basketeers at Wolf Trap.

The song list--and, frankly, much of their between song patter--was a repeat, but the acoustics at Wolf Trap were amazing and lent a beautiful huskiness and depth to the sound: The tunes almost sounded new.

Highlights included the Bacharach-inspired Clementine and the swingy, lazy Hang on Little Tomato. Sadly, no Let's Never Stop Falling in Love. Sad because who would want to with a soundtrack like this?

In Honor of Father's Day

Here's a guy proving that dads, too, can be assholes. I hope this kid puts him in a state home when he's old.

Other Things Ecstatic

I stumbled upon this site while I was redesigning Everything Ecstatic. These kids take the idea of a blog, add their own fetishes and mediated experiences, mix it with MySpace, and end up completely blowing the concept of a "webpage" out of the water.

Not all are cutting edge: Some still have links in a recognizable order. But others look like the electronic version of a 16-year-old girl's brain. If you want to see the future of online design, communications, publishing, community, and your own teenager, look no further.

Insult of the Week

From Wonkette about Democratic presidential candidate Mike Gravel's attendance at a gay bar fundraiser. BTW, he's considered a loooooong shot.

Gravel urged the crowd to be true to themselves, be they "gay or lesbian or transvestitite,” and then he took some pills he was handed and danced until 6 a.m. to Hi-NRG.

Then he became very still for fifteen minutes and threw a twink into a lake.

This one takes some effort. You have to know that Mr. Gravel made this ad, and this one, and that he actually exists. And what Hi-NRG is. And that gays like pills. (We do?) Then you have to connect the dots. On your own.

Smart is hot.

Consider It Done

The new Everything Ecstatic template is done. I've finished up a few last tweaks last night--moving some margins, building a new header, adding a second robot acrobat, and fine-tuning the white screen under the copy. Husband's verdict: The robot is distracting. My verdict: Ecstatic! (What did you expect me to say?)

Now I can focus on content. Hmmmmm. What to write, what to write--oh, I know. I watched Snakes on a Plane last night. And, um. Hmmmm.

I wonder if I should add another robot acrobat. . .

Saturday Night Live

Pop Goes My Heart

I watched Music & Lyrics tonight, against my better judgment. Romantic comedies tend to rub me the wrong way for any number of reasons. Surprisingly, this flick not only didn't suck, it actually made me laugh. And nothing was as funny as this video from fake 80's band PoP! Uncannily accurate in its cheesiness, it also features a fantastic song from Fountains of Wayne virtuoso Adam Schlesinger someone I've never heard of. I can't get this out of my head. And I don't think I want to.

Someone's Trying to Steal My New Glasses

Tonight

Going to be alone again tonight. Hope to work a bit on the blog, maybe watch a DVD--I just received Children of Men from Netflix. I'm tempted to head into Chinatown, get some chow, see a real movie, maybe even take some photos. But I'm whipped and feeling old. Perhaps I should just go home and hit the sack. Boys, this is where your youth ends up: Indecisive and sleepy.

Are You Gay? Take the Little Britain Test

Welcome to the New Everything Ecstatic

I've moved to a brand new template, with a few odd tweaks and nudges from your humble narrator. But I'm no CSS expert. Expect some bumps. Plus, I'm not entirely sure Blogger's out of beta, no matter what Google says.

Let me know what you think. Cheers!

Massachusetts Is (Still) for Lovers

Marriage is still on the books in Massachusetts. Andrew Sullivan says it best:

Looking back on two decades of struggle, past the ashes of so many, to the clearing on which we now stand, it's hard not to weep. Two decades ago, marriage for gays was a pipe-dream. Some of us were ridiculed for even thinking of the idea. And yet here we are. Past the vicious attack from the president, past the cynical manipulation by Rove, past the cowardice of so many Democrats, past the rank hypocrisy of the Clintons, past the inertia of the Human Rights Campaign, past the false dawn in San Francisco, and the countless, countless debates and speeches and books and articles and op-eds.

On the Town

Went with the usual suspects to Signature's show Nest. What a strange night. Imagine the Ben Franklin story told with explicit sex, then end it with a hanging. Set to song. Hmmmm. Odd, but also oddly compelling. And the stylizations in the last third didn't grate on me as they normally would. Add the fact that I was able to eat everything on the table at the Thai restaurant earlier in the evening, and the sum is Excellent Night!

The Sopranos

I've been reluctant to add my voice to the endless--and it really seems to be endless--bitching and backslapping around the last episode of HBO's The Sopranos. But who can resist?

I fall firmly into the backslapping category; however, it had to grow on me. At first, the looooong blackout had me thinking the cat sat on the remote and turned TiVo off. But after a good night's sleep I began to understand its genius.

The show itself was intense yet oddly meandering, sublime and perfectly ordinary. Doesn't it make perfect sense that the last few minutes of the series would be all of those things, all at once? To be as ambivalent as any of the characters, plots, or themes?

As for the bitchers, let's chalk it up to rabid, loving fandom. I've seen fanboys throwdown over Star Trek vs. Star Wars. This is no different. Lame, true; but no different.

For the best example of this, read Tony Hendra's review at HuffPo. Clueless and weirdly antagonistic. If he felt like the guy at the party no one talks to, that should be his first clue. For added fun, read the comments to his post. My fav:

I agree. Everything I heard about the Sopranos--killing, cussing, pseudo-psycho-analysis --so turned me off that I never watched a minute of any episode. In spite of being somewhat deprived of such a piece of pop culture, I don't regret it. Such art as this, that glorifies the basest sort of behavior, is little more than scrawlings on the walls of the commode that 40 years of right wing assault on our society have turned our culture into.

Yes, she never watched it. Brava!

Jazz Thursdays: Chet Baker "Time After Time"

Journey Doesn't Suck

Or so says Salon's David Marchese. Don't Stop Believing might be a great song to play when you're half passed out on your dorm floor wishing you had someone to kiss (or at least another beer handy). But, dude. Journey? Please.

Simian vs. Justice

While I'm still obsessing about the Justice song/video for D.A.N.C.E. A co-worker mentioned this Justice remix to me. The verdict: Whoa. The song has its charms, but the video veers sharply into Huh? territory. What happens after the best party ever? A landslide of trash and hungover French dudes.

Tuesday Time Capsule: Omni Magazine

When I was growing up, I read Omni magazine religiously. I can now admit to only understanding about one quarter of what I found between it insanely evocative covers. But those stories described a world outside my suburban mind that I couldn't wait to explore.

Too bad the timing sucked. Omni missed the nerd-worshipping internet-loving world by a decade. And though it limped into an online version in 1996, it ceased publishing in 1998, and disappeared from the web in 2003.

While I can't imagine living without the web's horizonless ocean of content, there's something to be said for keeping all the world's geeky coolness in one place, between two slick covers. Gives a teenage outsider something to look forward to.

Pride 2007

This last weekend was Pride. And I was out in the streets, as always. I missed the parade for the first time in years. Volunteered at my job's booth on Sunday, ate a crab cake, and watched the men walk around. Delicious, all the way 'round.

A few observations:

The death of gay culture! There are always average looking gay folk at Pride, and have been for the 25 years I've attended. But this year was exceptional. The gym bunnies, club kids, and body fascists must be hibernating.

The death of gay culture? Freedom plaza was packed. Every year, Pride seems to get bigger and bigger. While the proliferation of mainstream corporate booths told the assimilation story, the fact that we still feel the need congregate in celebration adds the footnote.

The death of gay culture :( I only saw two drag queens and two leather men. Sad. I'm all for assimilation, but bitches and buttless chaps are nice, too. Just saying.

File Under: Hell No!

The craziest job you never knew existed, and will have nightmares about tonight. Hat tip: The Cunning Realist.

glumbert.com - High Power Job

Insult of the Week #2

Village Voice headline: Is Eli Roth a poseur or a pussy? Maybe both.

'Nuff said.

Justice D.A.N.C.E. = Brilliant

Stumbled on this amazing song yesterday. Video is pretty darned cool, too. Tried to buy it from Amazon, but no song--no matter how awesome--is worth $38. (Well, maybe The Model. But that's it!). Went to CD Wow and found it for £7.99. Bless the Brits! Album drops on Monday.

Insult of the Week

How Tories see the world. You have to see it to believe it. Best part: Portugal is part of the South Africa, and the East Germany is renamed Commie Federal Republic of Sausage Eating Krauts and Lesboes. Yes, it's old. But it's still mean.

Hat tip: Daily Dish

Pentagon Wanted to Build "Gay Bomb"

Hmmmmm.

This joke pretty much writes itself. Still, keep this in your memory banks the next time some numbskull derides the "excessive" spending of the Democrats.

Read more about your tax dollars at work here.

Jazz Thursdays: Miles Davis (1964)

Kill eHarmony

I hate those eHarmony commercials so much, I'm willing to break my leg running for the mute button. Not only it is a Christian fundamentalist dating site--which sends shivers up my spine--but they actually ban gay people. And without even being honest about their bigotry. Here's a nice tonic.

This Cat Is a Better Photographer Than I

Mr. Lee, a cat of German descent, has his own camera and takes smashing photos of his day-to-day life. Why, you may ask. Or, perhaps, how. Here's what his owner says:

I thought about our cat who is the whole day out, returning sometimes hungry sometimes not, sometimes with traces of fights, sometimes he stay also the night out. When he finally returns, I wonder where he was and what he did during his day. This brought me to the idea to equip the cat with a camera.

Of course.

Who Would Be in Your Zombie Shelter?

Hat tip: PostSecret.com