nostalgia

Ahh....all they needed was some eyeliner and MTV would have been on board.

!

The Presumptive Candidate - By Keeper

My ex-girlfriend was just elected mayor. By a landslide.

It was bad enough during the campaign, having to see her signs all over town. On lawns. In cafe windows. On bus benches even. On the bus bench ones, next to her name and that slogan, which you must admit was pretty dumb, there was a picture of her too. I had to pause and kind of squint the first time I saw it, the picture. She didn't look like how I remembered her. In the bus bench pictures she's smiling. She looks confident enough to run a small city of 130,000, which as it just so happens is about the size of where we live.

Of course it being a bus bunch on which her picture was on, some jokster couldn't resist a little graffiti. A moustache had been Sharpie'd on. And a crude penis, hovering right around the area of her mouth. I don't mean the penis in and of itself (by dint of being a penis, I mean) was crude, just that it was crudely, perhaps hastily drawn. The balls looked more like those round cactuses you sometimes see--prickly, in other words--than an actual scrotum and the penis part was all dinosaur neck. Anyway, I'm not going to lie. I laughed a little. Not outwardly. I'm too cosmopolitan for that. But I chuckled somewhat--on the inside. Of course in the long run it just made me think of penises not my own--foreign penises--in the area of my ex-girlfriend. For instance, like, that Sharpie penis was closer to her than my real penis ever would be again. Not that I don't think I made the right decision, you know, breaking things off with her. We just weren't right for each other. We fought all the time, like two different species of moth in the same tree.

But so she's mayor now.
I wonder how that will affect my trash pick-up (little joke).
No but really I wish her all the best. I do.

I know for a fact my brother voted for her. He's a step-brother, so I suppose that lessens the betrayal somewhat. Still, he wasn't even registered before this last election. I don't care though. It's good he's getting involved in the community. I'm a firm believer in civic action. So, good for him.

Of course here's a guy who doesn't own a wallet. So, you know, draw your own conclusions.

Did I know, all those months we were dating, and then all those months afterwards when we were living together that she one day hoped to run for mayor?

Honestly? No.

To be honest, I never realized she had one speckola of political aspiration. So I was very surprised when a mailer from her campaign arrived in my mailbox. In fact, I couldn't eat the lasagna I'd just made for lunch I was so surprised. And I love lasagna. I'm like Garfield in that way. In that way but no others. But so no, I didn't know. Which I guess, if you wanted, you could put up as proof of my being a bad boyfriend. But I asked her plenty about herself. I mean, we were living together. There are a lot of hours in a day to fill. And nights too. Nights are long. I distinctly recall many conversations--more than a handful, at least--in which hopes and dreams were discussed. The subject of possible future plans to run for mayor of the town in which I've lived my entire life and where I know everyone and everyone knows me just never came up. Honestly.

Maybe she never mentioned it because she knows how I get when anybody gets on about politics. I get diarrhea. Which, I'm not being crude. It's a special kind of diarrhea and very medically documented. It is mostly all blood that comes out, and any candy I was eating. Blood and Skittles, if I was eating Skittles--for instance. Get going about what so-and-so (the senator from wherever, just as an example) said and you can count on the inside of the nearest toilet soon resembling the milk after Froot Loops have been floating in it, or a stained glass window, melted, from a church--if that makes sense.

But so that may have been why she kept mum.

She could be very empathetic in that way. She really tried to take into consideration the welfare of others. She really could be very caring. When she wasn't crying, which wasn't very often.
I'm glad she's got this new project in her life, actually--being mayor. Maybe it will help her with her emotional instability.

Did I vote for her? My ex-girlfriend?
Okay. No. I didn't.

She's pretty smart. I mean there's no doubt about that. And we share a lot of the same values, I guess. Or no, I know so. We do. And like I said, she can be very empathetic. Screwy sometimes, but very caring. And spiritual but in a pragmatic way. Like "Jesus was a carpenter but we build our own houses"--that sort of thing. But I don't know...

She laid on the floor for an hour once and talked into the carpet about killing herself. I'm not cold. If she'd been serious, I would have done something, immediately. But I can tell the difference between petulance and will to act. Believe me.

I mean what did she want?
I don't own a rifle because I hunt deer, for Christ's sake.
Seriously, it's good we stopped seeing each other.

By the way, I found out the other day a girl I dated in college just got married. To some big shot research scientist from Cambridge, MA. It was right there in the Special Announcements section of my alumni magazine. Apparently this guy, this research scientist is pretty hot stuff, on the international scene, I mean. They asked him to contribute his sperm to space. Seriously. Have you heard about that? How they're going to send a rocket full of the frozen jism of earth's "greatest minds" into the boundless realm of the cosmos?

I really liked her, Katie. Katie was the girl's name, who I used to date. I don't know, things just didn't work out. I can be trying sometimes. I really can. Things happen for a reason, though. That's what God and my mom say. Anyway, that's what my mom says God says.

Anyway, now everytime I look up at the stars--which is something I do frequently, believe me; I'm a regular nut for stargazing--now I have to think about her husband's jizz, Katie's husbands jizz up there. Hanging up there in a frozen clump. I can't not think about stuff like that. Who could? Once you imagine it, there it is, right there, on your brain like a button on a vest.

My mayor ex-girlfriend ran her first municipal meeting yesterday.

I didn't sit in on it or anything. We've got a public access station here in town and they played a re-play of it on there.

You should have seen her. Professional to beat the band. And I have to admit, she looked good. She did look good. Not just how she "looked." I mean she certainly looked good, but her bearing, too--you know, her demeanor and everything. Sharp. She came off savvy. She didn't embarrass herself.

Did I tape it? No. I thought about it, yes. I did think about taping it, the meeting. But what do I need to start taping municipal meetings for? Although it might not be a bad idea, actually. You know, just to get a sense of how things work in local government. All that.

I've been thinking lately, actually. I get some good ideas sometimes. Some damn good ideas. I mean even Lisa used to say so. You know, ideas about how things could be improved around here.

I don't know, you know, who knows--maybe I might, I don't know...

Maybe I could run for mayor.

Councilman even. Ward representative, I don't know. There are a handful of options.
I think I'd be pretty good at it.

And when's the next election? Not for a while, right? Plenty of time to prepare.

I don't know, I just might. I just might do that. Run, I mean.
To the exclusion of all else, I mean.
You know, to the exclusion of everything else.

It's ok...really. Believe me.

What me, worry?





Feel assured...





It's all ok...

American Apornal Ver. 1

This...(American Apparel Founder Dov Charney)

+

=



This...





















then this...






















Go get em' America!

Hell Yes America!

Before the GOP nod...

Now some straight talk from the GOP...

Perhaps her friends can provide some insight...

Charlie gets a swing at her...

Damn right...

Republican: Def. - An advocate of a republic (usually in opposition to a monarchy).

How that shit went down

My Home Town

Let Bruce do the talkin'...

Face Melt Sandwich

ORGAN HAUS. from Aaron Anderson on Vimeo.

Bring it MPLS. Pop that Xany and let the Thursday ride. Top down.

MILLIONS OF INNOCENT ACCIDENTS
Minneapolis Institute of At
The opening runs from 7PM - 9PM.
Marijuana Deathsquad (Building Better Bombs) blows weed smoke at 8PM.
hardlandheartland.blogspot.com

Road Trip Worthy

IRTJ wants 2 hip you to the Pygmalion Music Festival going on in Champaign, Illinios on September 17-20. Yo La Tengo, Dan Deacon, High Places, Black Mountain, Asobi Seksu and Times New Viking are just a few that will kill it over 4 days.

Poetry Wednesday via Keeper

- Keeper

Inspirational Story

Golly was big and retarded and raised

To rescue our town from its fear and malaise.

Bullied in grade school and Michigan-braised,

Golly would save us in magical ways.

His dad was a banker, his mother a nurse,

Two dead infant brothers and third times the curse.

But Golly was loved and prepared for the worst;

"I’m different but special," he heard and rehearsed.

So Golly—though big and retarded—behaved

As though he was able in school and in play.

He frowned out his grammar, he worried the flute,

He tried out for baseball, he danced in a suit.

Did little by little our hearts start to melt?

Well sure (that’s the story I’m here now to tell)…

Of Edgeville I’ll say there was not much to say—

Our wins were behind us and faded away.

But Golly arrived to remind us of love,

To carry our hearts like a dove in a glove.

And wouldn’t you know it? Would you believe?

We did start to wear our prim hearts on our sleeves:

The new churches flourished; the bakeries, too.

The panda bear birthed eighteen cubs at our zoo.

And smiles and kindness abounded in kind.

And once grumpy misers now offered the time.

The Unions quit drinking, the mayor went straight.

The perverts de-penis’d, the track team won state.

And not since the lynching of Randall McGee

Had Edgeville remembered what it was to be

Stalwart and helpful and humble and free—

In touch with one’s neighbors, the council, the trees.

The war came and college; the rumble of life.

Some of us married or sought a new life.

I stayed and I settled and wedded my girl.

We worked and we saved, made a baby, a girl.

When Golly dropped dead at age twenty-three

The Edgeville Gazette ran a full page story:

"Five hundred people attended the wake.

A light has gone out like a boat on a lake."

Things now are different, at times I don’t know

Just which way we’re headed or how this’ll go.

The shadow’s returning. Already I see

Some windows are closing, some doors don’t swing free.

And nights in the kitchen, the microwave on,

I sit and I wonder what rights stop what wrongs.

Our new baby’s coming; just where will it live?

What will it take and just what will it give?

Golly was big and retarded and raised

To rescue us all from our fear and malaise.

Changes don’t come, just don’t happen; they’re made.

A fume or a drug… my wife slips in the glade.

Was slow as a hammock, dumb as a screw—

If that’s what it takes, Lord, I’ll try; Lord, I’ll do.

"Those were the best days of my life" - Bryan Adams

Hard times spawn hard feelings at local label 2024

Both the Hopefuls and Romantica are fighting to get out of their contracts with the local label that once appeared so promising.

By Chris Riemenschneider, Star Tribun

It was only four years ago that things truly seemed, ahem, hopeful at 2024 Records.

The burgeoning indie label had stylish offices in Minneapolis' Warehouse District, a van to lend to its bands for touring and even promotional drink coasters made up with the 2024 logo on them.

"I mean, how many labels have coasters?" Hopefuls co-leader Darren Jackson marveled at the time.

Even with an Internet-savvy game plan and a roster of buzzing bands, though, 2024 Records has fallen on hard times along with the rest of the record industry. Its offices are closed, and its operator admits the operation is in the red. That's all so commonplace among record labels right now that it's not really anything worth reporting.

What is unusual -- especially in our relatively congenial music scene -- is that the label is trying to hold a couple of its bands responsible for its financial predicament.

Both the Hopefuls and Romantica, the two biggest acts on the label, are fighting to get out of their 2024 contracts. The label's chief proprietor, Nathan Roise, wants to hold them to their multi-album deals until he is given "fair compensation" for the time and energy he invested in them. Lawyers are even involved.

Yuck.

Members of both bands, who did not want to talk on the record, made it sound as if Roise were acting unrealistically about the label's future. They were, not surprisingly, frustrated by the dispute. The Hopefuls' long-overdue second album is essentially finished, but its release is hung up in the contract rift.

Roise talked about promises that the bands themselves did not keep -- mainly that they would tour a lot to promote their records, which neither did. Their members invested time and money in building home recording studios, lessening the need for record-label support.

"I'm not holding anybody hostage or trying to extort them," he said, "but contracts are in place to protect both sides. It's only fair for them to consider the substantial investment I have tied up into both bands."

Roise pointed to the Plastic Constellations -- who left 2024 for the bigger New York indie label French Kiss -- as proof that he has no hard feelings when bands want to move on. Other acts that recorded for the label include Valet, Fitzgerald and Duplomacy.

"The label was founded on being a springboard for bands to get to bigger and better places," he said. "It's always been a labor of love for me."

Back in 2004, Roise indeed painted a picture of 2024 being more of a co-op and less of a moneymaking venture. He said then that his other job, as a Realtor, would pay his bills. Unfortunately, real estate is another industry that has since gone in the toilet.

"It's stay-alive time," Roise glumly noted. "But I'm only asking for what's fair."

Both sides are hoping for resolution within a few weeks.

Comments

The music business is a cruel and shallow money trench, a long plastic hallway where thieves and pimps run free, and good men die like dogs. There's also a negative side. -Hunter S. Thompson

posted by jkking on Aug. 14, 08 at 3:47 PM |

11 of 13 people liked this comment.

II work in this music scene and I feel dirty cause this guy Nathan Roise makes "us" local booking agents, managers and labels look like idiots. Don't air disputes Chris you are painting this guy as a victim and 2 bands as the bad guys. His and your creditability are trashed. If he spent his money on plush offices and other luxuries its his fault. Don't drag the bands down with you...

posted by dylanisgod on Aug. 14, 08 at 6:43 PM |

2 of 11 people liked this comment.

Facts

(Disclaimer: from 2024 Records) This article gets some key points wrong. 1) The article states that "...the label is trying to hold a couple of its bands responsible for its financial predicament." 2024 does not hold either Romantica or The Hopefuls responsible for the challenges the label faces. Nothing said in the interview could be construed as such. These bands have been the most successful on 2024, so this statement is simply not accurate. It appears the article's author created an incorrect conclusion from two facts: A) That the label could be healthier financially B) That both bands want to release their next record themselves, but 2024 is not willing to let them go without some consideration for its considerable investment in their success. That does not, of course, mean C) 2024 holds them responsible for 2024's financial position (the classic logical error of A + B = C). 2) The article maintains that Romantica and The Hopefuls did not tour to support their records, which is not the case: "Roise talked about promises that the bands themselves did not keep --mainly that they would tour a lot to promote their records, which neither did. Their members invested time and money in building home recording studios, lessening the need for record-label support." Both Romantica and The Hopefuls have toured extensively to support their releases on 2024. We're proud of their efforts and their success.

posted by the2024 on Aug. 14, 08 at 9:43 PM |

To dylanisgod

@dylanisgod We had to laugh at your comments. Your attempt to personalize the article with your connection to the music industry is pathetic. How, exactly, does it make booking agents, managers and other labels look like idiots? My friend, that is just you transparently trying to take on a righteous cause with some manufactured indignation. Take a memo: it has nothing to do with you. Chris has every right to cover this story--it is relevant to the music scene in the Twin Cities. We're not happy about the errors, but are confident Chris will issue a correction in next week's paper. > His and your creditability are trashed. Uh huh. How's that? Both sides have legitimate positions, but the situation is uncomfortable for both. So maybe they're trashed with you. But who cares about that? FYI, our office was anything but plush. We shared it with a photographer and it was basically a big room with no A/C and heat that didn't work on the weekend. If you'd ever been there you'd know that. But then again, you appear to be pretty good at talking about things you know nothing about. And how is buying a van for bands to tour in a "luxury?" and not a significant gesture to bands that couldn't afford one? Try picking up a book with "critical thinking" in the title. Your tendency to jump to conclusions and make extreme statements without basis in facts should be embarrassing to you. Peace!

posted by the2024 on Aug. 14, 08 at 10:07 PM

It's business

Actually, Darren, plenty of labels have things like coasters, pens, posters, t-shirts, stickers, etc. It's called marketing. In fact, marketing dollars help give bands exposure and extend their influence. I enjoy the Hopefuls and Romantica - but I'd like to hear more about the promises that were made to tour. Even in the internet age, touring is the most effective money maker for many of these type of small labels. It sounds like Roise understands that 2024 is a stepping stone to bigger labels. The best way for the label to make money and gain exposure is through touring and licensing. This is a tough ticket for both sides. Hopefully they can work it out.

posted by burjeffton on Aug. 15, 08 at 9:16 AM |

3 of 3 people liked this comment.

There's credibility

...And what 'dylanisgod' has listed as "creditability" - no such term. 2024 has chimed in enough, and should concentrate a bit more on landing more bands. Chris R makes for a fine secondary school newspaper reporter, and looks much the part (love the comb-over, and it hanging on for dear life). Star/Tribune ought to search for true talent; one that can finish a narrative that doesn't include Atmosphere, and other second-rate acts. Chris R's bedroom is likely covered in Paul Westerberg posters, and Atmosphere is included in every mix he's ever made. Where's the fish & chips to wrap up this claptrap, redundant drivel?

posted by ManUnited on Aug. 15, 08 at 10:11 AM |

3 of 6 people liked this comment.

To the2024

It is my opinion and last time I checked it isn't against the law. Of course you are going to stick up for yourself which you have the right to but attacking me makes you look like you can't take criticism. Don't assume that I don't know anything about this situation. FYI, This does have something to do with me and everybody in this scene. I just think it was a mistake doing this article, it wasn't very professional of you to air this in public. With the mistakes Chris made makes you look bad and probably made the situation worse with The Hopefuls and Romantica. No band will ever come to 2024 and work with you cause you aired this in public. We all had problems with bands but we don't air it. Have a nice day.

posted by dylanisgod on Aug. 15, 08 at 10:24 AM |

1 of 6 people liked this comment.

Riemenschneider

Laugh. The name alone. "The burgeoning indie label" = Nathan Roise. There are a few specific egos that need a load of bricks thrown through their windows.

posted by deadmusic08 on Aug. 15, 08 at 10:48 AM |

2 of 4 people liked this comment.

Doesn't look like

2024 will see the year 2024. Doesn't look like they will see $2024 Doesn't look like they will press 2024 CDs They're "burgeoning", though.

posted by mack37 on Aug. 15, 08 at 11:45 AM |

1 of 3 people liked this comment.

From Riemenschneider (ha ha, what a name! and combover!)

Nathan is free to make/further his points, but everything in the article is accurate, in regards to what he said and to what is factually stated. What's not accurate: You can call me short, say I have a "burgeoning" beer belly, and make fun of my name (boy, I heard some good ones when I was in the 4th grade!), but never, ever, ever accuse me of having a combover! I'm happy to report I have a full head of hair, as do all the lads in my family. Maybe I do need to shoot a new mugshot. I hardly think I made the bands look like the bad guys. Is that really even possible in cases like this? I did try to present their side more, but they declined to comment (I'm guessing for legal reasons). Whatever it is now, 2024 was once the most prominent label in town besides Rhymesayers (there I go again, writing about Atmosphere!). I'm not airing a dispute, I'm writing about the going-ons of a prominent local music business, as I always do, good or bad. Thankfully, it's usually never this bad.

posted by chrisr on Aug. 15, 08 at 1:14 PM |

5 of 8 people liked this comment.

Someone needs to proof your material. They have your name wrong at one end, where the reader doesn't know which is correct. Example: The beginning of your piece reads: By Chris Riemschneider, Star Tribune Last update: August 14, 2008 - 2:58 PM

posted by ManUnited on Aug. 15, 08 at 1:32 PM |

1 of 3 people liked this comment.

To Riemenschneider

I am happy to see you comment on this and happy to see you can take a joke. I've read a lot of your articles and never seen such a backlash. It now seems Nathan is trying to blame you for such a bad article, when you just stated the facts. You report. You should really write more about local smaller labels/management companies their are some good ones that need to be put in the light. Rhymesayers deserves to be written about the earned it.

posted by dylanisgod on Aug. 15, 08 at 3:05 PM |

3 of 4 people liked this comment.

Obvious conclusion

The obvious conclusion as to why people are having a hard time in the music business is self-evident by maturity level and inflated egos of the comments here. Its really funny actually, but not surprising at all. They're even ripping on hair styles! (To a wanna be rock star, thats the worst insult you can ever get. "yer hair sucks dude.") Anyone can strap on a guitar and pretend to play, but its not hard to figure out why they're all having such a tough time making it in the business world.

posted by jkking on Aug. 15, 08 at 3:54 PM |

1 of 2 people liked this comment.

Well Chris ...

I re-read the article and you did write, "What is unusual -- especially in our relatively congenial music scene -- is that the label is trying to hold a couple of its bands responsible for its financial predicament." However, I don't see anywhere in the article where Roise or any other person from 2024 directly or indirectly blames the two bands for their "financial predicament". Everything that Roise is quoted as saying refers only to contract disputes between 2024 and the bands. You are the one who then concludes that these problems led to 2024's financial predicament. Roise himself never states this in any way, at least not in the article. Perhaps you should have made it more clear that this was your own conclusion and not 2024's.

posted by gmoheban on Aug. 16, 08 at 2:11 PM |

2 of 2 people liked this comment.

Before any band signs a contract...

...they should read Steve Albini's missive, "The Problem With Music". (There is a good copy on Negativland's website, Google is your friend.) Large or small, a record company almost invariably winds up stiffing their bands one way or the other.

posted by oldpunk on Aug. 16, 08 at 4:33 PM |

1 of 2 people liked this comment.

Former 2024 Intern

I will vehemently back the previous comment regarding the 2024 Warehouse District offices being "plush." They were anything but, and I interned there (without pay) for over a year (2004-2005). A shared office with crappy desks and out-of-dste computers is not synonymous with "plush," at least in my book. A lot of people worked really hard to make that lable what it was when everyone thought it was "burgeoning." And Mr. Roise, to the best of my knowledge, did exclusively put up all financial backing for every 2024 release. I love the guys in the Hopefuls and Romantica, and got to know several of their members quite well in my time at 2024. But a contract is a contract, is it not? I don't think there was any decption involved at the moment of signing on the dotted line. And I will also agree with the statement made about 2024 striving to be a "springboard" for bands to get to bigger and better things. That was the M.O. from day one, as far as I witnessed. Nobody was happier about the Plastic Constellations going to French Kiss than Nate Roise and the other members of the 2024 staff. Enough said, glad you at least brought this story to public light, Mr. Riemenschneider.

posted by mikedmpls on Aug. 17, 08 at 6:38 AM |

2 of 2 people liked this comment.

A contract is a contract

I agree the story was a little ummm biased but in any business you have expectations. And if the two parties feel that expectations haven't been met then you need to either work it out or have a 3rd party decide for you. Although I will say this, it seems like whoever goes public first with the story is usually the party with the weaker hand.

posted by jkotek on Aug. 17, 08 at 11:38 AM |

1 of 1 people liked this comment.

Summer Memories - Part 1

Blues Traveler was on the TV program Austin City Limits about 2 weeks ago. I thought it was strange – couldn’t those assclowns just willingly shrink into obscurity and surface every year or so to headline the Basilica Block Party with the Gin Blossoms? Then again, I live in Austin where the intersection of pot and Ron Paul backers yields an actual demand for white guy, Stevie Ray, noodle blues. (No shit, people pay money to see their dentist riffin’ and guitar-facin’.) As such, it wasn’t too much of a stretch for KLRU, my local PBS station who produces Austin City Limits, to put an unkitschy relic of the Clinton years on the airwaves. As an aside, the lead singer—one Jon Popper—is once again fat after a gastric bypass surgery. Fortunately for me, I only caught their set-closer, the hit song Hook. It was at that point I had a rather vivid flashback that took me back about 12 years when that song was, for lack of a better term, popular.

At the end of my sophomore year in 1995, Al Woitas got me a job at Jake’s Pizza. It was probably the best job a 16-year old could have, and still one of my all time favorites. Jake’s overlooked/spat upon the relevant child labor laws and allowed me to deliver pizzas for $4.25 and hour plus tips (since they were a small business, they got to undercut the “real” minimum wage of $4.75/hr.). It seems almost unthinkable to me now, but they provided vehicles for the drivers. Not that they were anything special, but in retrospect, it seems like a pretty damned stupid idea to allow newly-minted drivers to take the wheel of a car towards which they had no responsibility.

Right, Blues Traveler. It was probably July, and dusk was creeping over one of the truly nice summer days in Minnesota. I was driving south on Broadway on the south side of Albert Lea (the rougher part of town) in a blue (with some slight rust coloration) 1983 Chevy S-10, whose engine had been “overhauled” with the V-8 of a salvaged 1985 Camero, getting about 7 miles per gallon, windows down (a necessity since the truck had little more than a heater), with the factory-installed AC Delco AM/FM manual-dial radio locked onto KRGR 95.3 (now 94.9) listening to Blues Traveler’s Hook. The air from the rusted-through floorboard was tickling my nascent leg hair as my right foot played with the half-inch metal circle that doubled as the truck’s gas petal. I had summer thoughts on my mind. I didn’t much notice of the radio rising above the roar of the 32 cylinders until Popper started in on the fast-talking:

Suck it in suck it in suck it in

If you're Rin Tin Tin or Anne Boleyn

Make a desperate move or else you'll win

And then begin

To see

What you're doing to me this MTV is not for free

It's so PC it's killing me

So desperately I sing to thee

Of love…

The spell of the summer night was broken. Despite the fact that I was a born-again Christian trying to live a swear-free and pious (the same thing to my juvenile mind) lifestyle, I thought, “Wow, this is complete shit.” It’s probably the only lasting wisdom I possessed at that age. And while I am as shocked now as I was then that people would willingly listen to Blues Traveler, I was happy to recover a little corner of my youth. Unfortunately for my local PBS affiliate, their decision to spend good donations on such shit makes me reconsider my thoughts of possibly donating money at some as of yet undetermined point in time in the future.

The things you miss out on by being sXe when you're a teen.

Only in Boulder.

A goat in the truck is worth two in the bush.

I thought it would be funny to buy two goats and keep them as pets after a conversation at a local pub. So when I was out in Pokot in the Rift Valley I purchased two male goats naming them Captain Bah Beard the scourge of the Cherangani Hills and his first mate Bad Ass Billy the kid pillager of the plains. It ended up costing me only 27 dollars to procure the two goats from a young woman and her son at the local market.

I secured their legs and piled them in the back of my Land Cruiser and began the journey back to Nairobi. Along the way I stopped for food, petrol, and sodas at a station just outside of the Nakuru town proper. I filled the vehicle and myself with the best Kenya has to offer. Driving along I had forgot that the goats were in the back of the vehicle. All of the sudden a blood curdling bah was heard which sounded as if the dam thing was ridding shotgun. I swerved to avoid the phantom goat on the road only to remember that it was I that was transporting the menacing creature.

The road from Nakuru to Nairobi is good in some areas and bad to worse in others. It usually takes a bit over two hours to drive the distance. As I trucked along the highway I began to drift of into my own world. I had a list of things I had to do when I got back. I had to stop at the market and pick up groceries. I had to check my email and correspond to some nagging matters. As I heard the goats again I added pick up goat food. What ever that looked like.

I fell back into my robotic non-responsive daydream mode. I thought about home and the shite I left behind. I imagined what this person and that person were doing. I got nostalgic about my favorite Mexican food joint back at home. What I would not do to get a burrito here in Kenya.

The chard grilled asada. The warm flour tortilla. The shredded white cheese. The atomic hot sauce. The lard filled refried beans. The tangy yet subtle rice. All of this washed down with a few chicken tacos and a horchada. Man I would kill for some Mexican right now. Soon I drifted of to other things I missed from home, which largely revolved around food and drink.

The BBQ my father makes with it ever so quaint burned on goodness. The magic that happens when I order and consume a pepperoni pizza from Mulberry Pizza. The cob salads from Red Devil with the extra side of Blue Cheese dressing. The ice cream, the milk shakes, and grilled cheese from Frosty Queen. The Sunday morning donut from the house of Gods baker…Winchell’s. My moms home cooking.

The thought of food drove me deep into hunger and a desire to be back home in Los Angeles. So I attempted to advert this amazing threat by thinking about other things. I looked around at the scenic beauty of the surrounding area just outside of Naivasha. I spotted a bunch of zebras grazing at the side of the road. I contemplated the beauty of this moment.

A large baboon and his harem caught my eye and eating the crisps I had bought back in Nakuru I thought that they need to have some of these. Against my better judgment and against all of the advice I have received from anyone that has traveled here I pulled over and began to toss food out of my window. Laughing to myself, no I was giggling like a Japanese schoolgirl at Disneyland. Only I did not flash the peace sign at these mongoloid primates.

Within minutes ten or fifteen baboons surrounded me. Some on the ground, some sitting on the roof of my Land Cruiser, and still more approaching from all sides. I still thought it was funny until I saw a baboon approaching my open passenger window. I reached over like Indian Jones slipping under a steadily moving rock wall towards the open window I moved. Only to be restrained by my seat belt and thrown back against my window.

Shaking the white from my head I made another attempt to reach the window in the same motion of unbuckling my seat belt this time in rather impeccable timing the baboon had its hand in the window as I rolled it up on him. The baboon was reaching around at my hand and the air searching for food. Staring back at me with his hand in the window and sitting to top of the roof now. He asserted dominance upon the others around him. It was the discovery channel live right outside my Land Cruiser!

I handed this frantic waving hand a crisp and out it went for me to continue the securing of my fortress. The dumb ass I am I had dumped half a bag of crisps outside of my window prior to the escape from the baboon, goliath. There sat the baboons fighting and eating the fried bits of potatoes. I continued to giggle and smile. I drank my coke and opened the chocolate bar I had picked up.

When another piercing belt from the goats reminded me I had to hurry back to Nairobi. With my fun and torturing of the baboons complete I attempted to drive away. Only to my dismay the dam things were in front of me, behind me, and on the top of me. I started the engine to drive off. The sound of the engine drove off a few. The hooting of the horn disposed of a few more. When I engaged the vehicle and began to drive off I became free of the baboon sea that I had created.

Driving off in the direction of Nairobi I again was in motion. Satisfied that I had caused a primate traffic jam at the intersection of the highway and the plains. The funny thing was that the zebras did not move nor did they even glace over at me and my baboon army. I arrived back in Nairobi in a little over an hour. I went home to drop off the goats and then to pick up goat food. WTF is goat food anyway?

I arrive at Gypsies still smelling of goat. I order a Tusker and light an Embassy. I relax with all the prowess of Speak or Burton. I have conquered my own little piece of Africa. For a fleeting moment I am alive like I have never been alive before.

I glance over at the table next to me. It is stacked with old white Europeans gents chatting away as they are being straddled like they were thoroughbreds by young beautiful African women. All of the ladies are feigning interest in what the old clappers were saying.

I wink at one of them and smile as I exhale the diplomatic smoke from my conquering lips. Our eyes met and as quickly as they do they depart as the waiter returns to inquire if I needed another half liter of chilled barley goodness. I partake of another and seek to return to my African beauty.

Alas she is being mauled be the clapper she is mounted upon. I see a playful struggle between the two. My mind wanders.

I see this beauty whipping this old clapper with a riding crop as he is dressed in red racing attire. He is shouting, “Ride me lass. Ride me!” She is determined to win the race. She is pulling ahead, astride her gallant stead of an old clapper. This old fellow has some steam left in him. There she ends her race victorious. She whips his one last time for good measure. She crosses the finish line, no need for a photo finish.

The old clapper is into her. She seems to enjoy him as well. It makes me wonder what the economy of this relationship really is. Is she a commodity for this old clapper to relive his virile youth or is she a sex nurse maid changing his diapers as needed. Worse yet is the old clapper and this African queen truly in love?

New Sigur Ros

Stream the whole thing.

Happy Belated Birthday

I missed this one on Saturday. My bad. Our freaky friend had a birthday. The Guardian remembered. Now just watch the whole damn thing...or the fun really starts at 3:32...

Freestyle w/ Dizzee Rascal

Let's Get Isolated

Deep in the Amazon jungle, one of the Brazil's last uncontacted indigenous tribes has been photographed from the air, to prove its existence.

The pictures show tribesmen, painted red from head to toe, preparing to defend themselves with longbows against the aircraft carrying out the photography...(The Guardian)

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Let's get these guys plugged in. They should do another flyover with some of those $100 laptops . Shouldn't they be blogging? Maybe they have some thoughts on China?

From the BBC - Great tit finds home in ashtray

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/scotland/tayside_and_central/7423903.stm

The bird chose the cigarette bin despite an array of ready-made nests

Smokers visiting a nature reserve in Kinross have been told to make alternative arrangements after a Great Tit built a nest in a cigarette bin.

Despite a range of ready-made nest boxes around Vane Farm at Loch Leven the bird has opted for the bin outside the visitors' centre door.

Luckily the nest was spotted by a visitor who saw the bird emerge from the box before it was used by a smoker.

The RSPB said there are currently about four baby Great Tits in the nest.

Raymond Welsh, the visitor centre and coffee shop manager, said the birds were proving to be a huge attraction.

He said: "A couple on holiday from England told me that a tit was nesting in the cigarette box.

"At first I thought they were mistaken and that the birds were just looking for food.

"Then I looked in the box and there she was sitting quietly on her nest.

"It's just great that nature is everywhere."

Although Vane Farm has several CCTV cameras on nests around the site beaming images straight into the coffee shop, staff are unable to view the "Butt Bin" family as the box is sealed up and made of metal.

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I thought the Brits were more clever than this. Wasted potential, indeed.

Marvin Gaye's "What's Going On" - The Greatest Album of All Time

(listen at whatsgoingon.muxtape.com)

Chances are that those who are more or less unfamiliar with Marvin Gaye associate him with 1) “Let’s Get it On” (the song) and 2) “Sexual Healing,” in that order. While both of these songs are classics in their own right, they obscure the fact that Marvin Gaye is responsible for the best album of all time. It is called “What’s Going On.”

Before I comment upon why it is the best album of all time, I realize that many of you have been led astray by false proclamations of greatness of certain movies, songs, or records. I’ll forgive you for a bit of suspicion, but, in the present case, such apprehension is entirely unfounded.

Released in 1971, “What’s Going On” was a testament to the tumultuous times of the day. Nevertheless, the songs are just as lyrically potent and politically relevant today. Hitting on such themes as the effects of war (the title track), destruction to the environment (Mercy Mercy Me [The Ecology]), empathy for suffering friends and neighbors (What’s Happening Brother), and, among others, the sad state of urban America (Inner City Blues [Makes Me Wanna Holler], which also has one of the most bad ass bass lines).

Marvin Gaye allegedly told Smokey Robinson that god/God was writing the album, and that Gaye was just the vessel. As a result of this (or despite this depending on your predilections), the results are striking. Have a listen at: whatsgoingon.muxtape.com.

I know I'm a little late on this bandwagon, blame it on the Acid.

Dodos Are Not

Summer Hours Mix Tape

School's out. This campus is on the d-l. A mix tape for the the 4 p.m. quitting time.

Mix TAPE #1

This just in from the BBC...

Cannabis blunder at Tokyo airport

An unwitting passenger arriving at Japan's Narita airport has received 142g of cannabis after a customs test went awry, officials say.

A customs officer hid a package of the banned substance in a side pocket of a randomly chosen suitcase in order to test airport security.

Sniffer dogs failed to detect the cannabis and the officer could not remember which bag he had put it in.

Anyone finding the package has been asked to contact customs officials.

"This case was extremely regrettable. I would like to deeply apologise," said Narita International Airport's customs head Manpei Tanaka.

Prince: A Retrospective - Vol. 1

Have you changed your mind about touring since you announced the Purple Rain tour would be your last?

No. I don't plan on touring for a while. There are so many other things to do.

Now that Purple Rain has made you such a huge superstar, do you worry about the possibility of a backlash against you?

One thing I'd like to say is that I don't live in a prison. I am not afraid of anything. I haven't built any walls around myself, and I am just like anyone else. I need love and water, and I'm not afraid of a backlash because, like I say, there are people who will support my habits as I have supported theirs. I don't really consider myself a superstar. I live in a small town, and I always will. I can walk around and be me. That's all I want to be, that's all I ever tried to be. I didn't know what was gonna happen. I'm just trying to do my best and if somebody dug it then (kiss, kiss to the camera).

What are your religious beliefs?

I believe in God. There is only one God. And I believe in an afterworld. Hopefully we'll all see it. I have been accused of a lot of things contrary to this, and I just want people to know that I'm very sincere in my beliefs. I pray every night, and I don't ask for much. I just say, "Thank you" all the time.

Dosh

Believe the hype. Dosh gets face time on Gothamist. Minneapolis represent.

Try this at home.

Maiden Voyage

Chat with Todd Hansen

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1:28 PM Todd: dude

i'm going to IRon Maiden tonight

Calcutta

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