Pop Cesspool

DIVERSIONS

Finally got a load of "Bowling For Columbine" at the 19th Street Theatre in Allentown, and, as might be expected, it had a more lasting effect on me than the LOTR flick, which I saw earlier in the week. LOTR2 and the latest Harry Potter installment actually complement each other, especially because Ian McKellen/Gandalf and Richard Harris/Dumbeldore could've been interchangeable. Switching the actors would've brought a slightly wiseass edge to LOTR2 and a slightly threatening vibe to Potter. Someday digital technology will allow us to play around with that kind of thing, the same way the Brits are ga-ga for bootlegs/mashups/etc. Back to Columbine: I'm not nearly as big of a Michael Moore fan as Jon-bless, but the flick makes an excellent point about fear, and the way people in the United States are fed a steady dose of it. To tie in last week's big celebrity death: I think that's why I like "London Calling" so much -- it's fearless. Moore should run for Congress.

FORMALITY

Another year, another ballot for the local weekly's music poll. They also hired me to do a year-end essay on hip-hop.

DEATH OR GLORY

I'll spare everybody a long-winded tribute to the late Joe Strummer. But I will say this: "London Calling" is probably my favorite record of all time. I never grow tired of it. Some coincidences recently: M2 played a Clash documentary two weekends ago; The network also recently offered a global-music show with Strummer as host. Last night I was watching "The Royal Tenenbaums" and totally enjoying Wes Anderson's use of "Police And Thieves" in a scene with Gwyneth Paltrow and Owen Wilson. That track itself is one of the great covers of all time. G'night, Joe.

I CAN ONLY ASPIRE

I don't suppose Poland gives out achievement awards to pioneering Polish-American bloggers. Oh well. Here's a little story from Anchorage about the confusion over whether Alaska has had one governor with -ski at the end of his name, or two.

ENTERTAINMENT!

Can't remember if I've written about Singing Asian Christian Metro Man (aka Singing Jesus Asian Man) before. I had another sighting today on the Orange Line between Rosslyn and Foggy Bottom. 'Tis the season -- he sang "The First Noel," and completely on key, I might add. (The word "Noel" sounded like "no-yell," though. Bless.) His real name is Fisher Yang, according to that Washington Post article. Nobody clapped today when he was done, but somebody said "thank you."

BREEZY

I'm a big fan of the New York Times Magazine, because no other general-interest rag hits the mark every week in the same confident, intelligent way. Harper's, the New Yorker, Time, Newsweek, whatever -- they're just not as much fun to read. Check out the Dec. 16 issue if you need any evidence: The 2nd Annual "Year in Ideas" feature has provided me with hours of sublime toilet reading. I'll take partial credit for one of the 97 ideas selected for examination in the issue: Stench Warfare. Those who know me might think I'm facetiously referring to my own flatulence. Hardly. I willingly participated in one of the Stench Warfare studies at the Monell Chemical Senses Center, at the behest of of Herr Wook's lovely spouse, who has since moved on from her lab job to law school. Anyway, the test was one of the more harrowing experiences I've ever had in a clinical setting. It consisted of me sniffing vials of odorous chemicals and then describing my physical and mental reactions to a lab assistant. After every nasty-ass vial, I was allowed to huff a tube of something pleasant -- scents of lilac, cinnamon, etc. -- to clear my pallate. This is what I really remember, though: Criminally abusive essences of puke, feces, stinky feet, and a few other complex whiffs of ungodly stuff. For my troubles, I got $20, I think. I left the building and stumbled down Market Street with a potent headache. And who says I'm not patriotic?

DISTRACTION

Rob D. turned me on to Weebl and Bob. Another in a long line of dumb-intelligent-fun things that makes me wonder why I haven't attempted to learn any Shockwave programming.

BUSINESS AS USUAL

I'm sure Trent Lott's aides are looking for a picture of him cutting a ribbon while surrounded by some African-Americans. There sure aren't any on his official Web site now. Call me jaded, but the Lott-gaffe coverage this week has been necessary, but also overextended. You say the Middle East could become a nuclear hot zone worse than anything Pakistan or India could dream up? Who cares -- there is political intrigue to consume the cable news headlines! It reminds me, just a whiff, of the shark-attack-and-Chandra coverage before Sept. 11. Dunno what Trent is gonna say this afternoon, but now that all the necessary condemnations have been handed out and all the appropriate spanking has been applied, anything outta his mouth is pure operatic aftermath. Yeah, common sense says that he should think hard about possibly quitting as majority leader (he's not exactly a grand old statesman, anyway), but there's a hard, dirty war on the horizon, people. Don't be consumed with one dude's verbal ridiculousness.

PUFF AWAY

So Wired interviews Nintendo uber-designer Shigeru Miyamoto, and he says this:

Every game has rules. So I think about them often. I talk to my children about them. For instance, the trains in Japan all have a few seats reserved for pregnant women or the elderly. The rules regarding those seats are that if an elderly person or pregnant woman steps on the train, you should let them sit. I also tell them to think about the results of their actions, to not do things like throw a cigarette out the window. You never know what the result of throwing that might be.

I like the subtext: Light up, kids! Just don't throw your butts out the window!

PERFECT TOGETHER

Does anybody find yucky-sweet justice in the fact that Clear Channel, which loves to screw over the nation's radio listeners by inflicting tightass playlists on its stations, is now getting screwed over by a typically insubordinate Axl Rose? One might argue that the fans ultimatley are takin' it in the cornhole in this case, but I have no sympathy for whiny would-be GNR concertgoers. Caveat emptor, y'know? I do, however, respect an educated decision to behold the traveling circus, consequences be damned. Word to Eskimo on that front. He had the right approach.

NO FUTURE

The Wall Street Journal weighs in on the death of teen-pop fashions:

Retail experts think this holiday season may mark an early stage of grunge redux, which could have some dire implications for the teen economy. ... On the music scene, Britney Spears has been replaced by messy-looking guitar acts like Avril Lavigne, an 18-year-old Canadian who looks like a teenage Annie Hall with a skateboard. She and many other style-driving music acts are taking their cues from the "antifashion" look that prevailed a decade ago. ... Marketers and analysts think a change in attitude may be taking hold among teens. Irma Zandl, whose Zandl Group maintains a "panel" of 3,000 teens across the country, says money is a big issue. "It's been a long time since you heard so many kids worry about money," she says. ... It's all a little worrisome for retailers, for whom grunge is a touchy subject. In 1992 -- the year grunge gained household status and thus was disowned by its originators -- teen spending on clothing entered a four-year slump. That was due partly to a struggling economy and also to the downmarket appeal of the grunge uniform of flannel shirts, Army surplus pants and thrift-store finds.

Yeah, but the last time around, the flannel stuff infamously started as the "fashion" of actual junkies. This time around, the marketers are missing a prime opportunity: Bathtub crank culture is waiting for you, Madison Avenue!

TECHNIQUE

Got turned onto this excellent obit about L.A. Times personality profiler Bella Stumbo.

LANDMARK

I think this was the Dean Martin disc that Tony's crew blasted from the Stugots toward the lawyer's shore house on Sunday's "Sopranos" finale, which I still think was a top-five episode.

DNA

DNA
Many congratulations to Das Empra and his wife, who is now with child.

FIRST IN FLIGHT, PART 2

Another reason to get the hell out of DC: Mysterious daily explosions underneath Cheney's house. Weekend quickies: 1. This is the best Eagles team in my lifetime. The defense might not be as good as the Buddy Ryan days, and the offense might not be as good as the Ron Jaworski days, but the 2002 version plays like a disciplined kung-fu platoon. No finger-pointing, no superstar B.S. 2. I think Edie Falco should win an Emmy for last night's performance on "The Sopranos." There are wildly varying opinions today about how good the episode was; I'd put it in my top five, easily. Falco's four-seasons-in-the-making flipout and the emotional aftermath were worth waiting for.

TACTICS AND STUFF

The Washington Post has a David Ignatius piece about the lessons that huge online multiplayer games might offer when it comes to fighting international terrorist networks. Ignatius only mentions warfare and fantasy games such as South Korea's Lineage and the Western fave Everquest, but I'm wondering if the Sims Online would be also be helpful. Sure, it has the rep as being a game for the materialist avatar-addict in all of us, but it's really about figuring out the deeper intentions of "characters" that are eccentric, somewhat unpredictable and operating within a world of specific rules. That analysis needs a little more work, but you get the picture.

GANKED

Came in to work around 11 a.m., per the usual on a Thursday, to find that the building had no power. Something in the infrastructure near DuPont had gone kaput -- apparently it was another of D.C.'s famous exploding manholes. The big dogs sent us home because of fears that there might be buildup of carbon dioxide and fumes from our backup generator, which is only strong enough to power the emergency lights in the building after it allows for a slow shutdown of the core tech systems and whatnot. Got home and prepared to catch a 3:40 showing of "Bowling For Columbine." Fat chance -- the power had returned to the building, and essential folks like myself were being called back to the grindstone. It's the most wonderful time of the yeaaaarrrrr....

RESPITE

Many apologies for the lack of fresh content around here. I'm devoting a little time to free-lance projects and simply catching up on my nerd-ass reading time. I have a huge stack of magazines and about six books waiting for me. This happens at least once a year: I get into a rut where I don't read on the subway, or I forget to read printed material during slow times at work. A backlog develops, and I find myself wanting to curl up and think inward. It'll be over soon. In the meantime, I offer props to Jahbless for his discovery that "thanksgiving music must include lots of Led Zeppelin and lots of hip-hop. anything less just plain sucks." I grilled him a little further on why it worked so well, and he said that they played "Dazed and Confused" as they sat down to eat. Hilarious. I wish I was there.