Picture of the Week
Scratched-up Wilfred Brimley, disapproving of your hijinks. Goo goo ga joob.
Malfunctioning Digital Grandparents
Printer problems + old photo = mind-blowing, convention-shattering art.
At the Transylvanian Bakery
Life imitating art imitating life?
Intimidation is a State of Mind
The warm welcome on the door of a clothing store here in the West End called "State of Mind." More evidence of citizen-as-suspect syndrome or attempt to look tough after the thieving horse has left the barn? Something tells me it's the former, but either way, why would anyone go one step further?
Not at all surprisingly, the trend-sucking shite duds in the window look like the wardrobe for an alien civilization of androgynous electronica deejays.
Los Angeles - The Dresden
This crusty time capsule looks like the kind of drinking hole that Bob Newhart and Jerry the orthodontist would have hung out at after work. Lots of brown, lots of scrolly wrought-iron fixtures, and a smattering of well-dressed but gloomily disdainful bar staff make it a hipster-doofus paradise with all of the ironic trimmings. And then there's that swingin' lounge act straight out of a glorious shag carpet-lined nightmare. Check out Marty and Elayne's swanky song stylings, particularly their signature tune - some might say personal anthem - "Stayin' Alive."
Main Street Barber Shop
Greatest business name ever?
Spielplatz Non-Stop
(Kling klang image to engorge)
Now it is time to play. If you can only figure out how.
This thing showed up in the revamped Nelson Park here in the West End and I'm baffled. What the hell are kids supposed to make of this futuristic, hi-tech Miro-esque jumble of pipes and wires? Upon closer inspection there was a company sticker - Rectec Industries - with some blather about fostering kids' imaginations and creativity. Well, they're sure as shit going to need all the imagination they can muster:
"Look, mom - I'm imagining some goddamn swings over here! Whoop-de-doo - It sure is fun pretending to have fun! Yaayyyy!"
Of course it has to be some kind of neo-hippy-dippy hand-wringing bullshit involving ergonomics and values and life lessons in weepstickery. Great. Explain that to a six year-old who might prefer an old-fashioned slide over a mysterious narrow, wavy strip of hard rubber that leads to nothing. Either that or the school next to the park is some kind of elementary post-industrial design school for tiny Huns.
