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Nutless in New York
Sometimes I just don't get the New Yorker. Couldn't this concept be used in just about any presidential election? Is it even a concept? Does it go far enough? Does it go anywhere? Am I missing something?
Nothing whatsoever against Richard McGuire here - but where's the wit, where's the metaphor, where's the pointy editorializing that says something original, incisive, and possibly scathing about this cycle's national brawl? What? They are all fighting each other? Not even in a mud pit or a pig pen? As cheap reality show contestants? Fighting over the captain's chair on the Titanic? (Hey, I'm just throwing stuff out there - gimme a break.)
Again, it's the everlovin' New Yorker, the creme of the magazine creme, and yet they pull this kind of flat statement-of-the-obvious non-concept thing all the time. I don't know... Is it dry? I know they like the dry stuff - but is it? Is it brimming with subtle charm and quiet truth? Again, those qualities seem far short of the hard-hitting kick to the balls you'd expect given the scale of the hideous shitstorm going on. I'm not claiming to be an expert here or even remotely worthy of the New Yorker, but it seems a long, long unfunny way from the blistering wit found at the Algonquin round table - or more likely underneath it.
The Hoodlum Show
Generation rodent-face. Laundry with legs. Teenagers - they bug me. Wonder what's going on in those skulls. I probably don't wanna' know. I wouldn't want to be them now. And with the hoodlum shit - never quite as hard as they think. That could be a problem. There's some sorta' blurring of the line going on here between fantasy and reality, it looks like. Everybody's an actor like they're on TV or in a movie. But like a cheap bootleg copy or something. There's something missing in the eyes. They aren't equipped for the real thing. Yeah, that could be a problem.
Well, Blow Me Chunks
Westworld Magazine - Tips on avoiding seasickness.
Book Giggin'
Some of my gig poster work is apparently featured in this book, fresh off the presses and now available at Amazon.
A big, open-it-anywhere book created for music fans and pop-culture followers of all ages, The Band Name Book explains how (or where) the best-named bands in history got their names. Those names are profound, clever, silly, provocative or downright obscure. This entertaining book is full of information and trivia about bands from the dawn of rock 'n' roll right up to today's Internet-based independents. The Beatles are here, as well as Led Zeppelin, Pearl Jam, Nine Inch Nails and the Goo Goo Dolls. But the best fun is found with rock history's lesser-known groups, in Web-savvy contemporary bands, and with true originals.
Twister of Knickers
No matter how calamitous the state of the world, you can always count on this specimen to have her priorities and concerns completely out of whack. Sterilized ladle in hand, she's ready to spoon down the latest fear-mongering distraction-du-jour with a well-trained gusto while fiery, Hell-bound handbaskets of reality whizz by all around her. Almost always a denizen of some soulless suburban chipboard tract, the safety of removal has not quite materialized for her despite her dutiful adherence to the trappings and mindset of the North American whitebread lifestyle/fantasy. Perhaps overwhelmed by the size and complexity of the world, its violence and viciousness, the specimen focuses in on things directly within arm's reach and the small, often phantom-like things that threaten the illusionary coziness inside this zone. There is nothing she can do about genocide, but she can sure as heck get all hand-wring-y about bylaws and backyards. Or better yet, go shopping for molding.
Due to its seemingly harmless banality, it is easy to miss the fact that the Twister of Knickers is really a close cousin to the Great North American Redneck and its insidious ignorance-as-virtue mentality - a sort of middle-class hillbilly. And although their numbers are vast, there is much to suggest that the species may be on the brink of endangerment, that its dominance is quickly diminishing. At last, the nameless fear justified.
