RIGHT F*CKING NOW

Twin Peaks is Pro Tibet

2011-02-23T00:06:00.002-05:00

youtubesday SCARY HAUNTED VERSION EDITION

2010-10-17T02:29:00.008-04:00

AND THAT'S TRUE FOR ANY SORT OF ANIMAL...

ARE YOU UNCOMFORTABLE? WOULD YOU LIKE SOME MILK

WHAT BOTHERS YOU FUTURE-HUMAN? LOOK AT ALL YOUR TOOLS

ADDENDUM

YouTubesDay

2010-08-26T21:12:00.007-04:00

OH GOSH

youtubendesday

2010-06-02T21:27:00.004-04:00

AHOY

Youtubesday IV: It's Tuesday somewhere in th' system (or, Memorial Day threw my perception of the earth-week off...
IN SPACE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

ASTRONAUT CAT DOES NOT WANT MICROGRAVITY

Read the comments

ASTRONAUT FROG DOES NOT WANT MICROGRAVITY EITHER

FYI

GET OFF MY BALLS EARTHER!

OK!!!!!! TIGHT SEALS M' CUBEWANOS!

youTUbESDAY!

2010-05-18T21:56:00.000-04:00

This is what the subways are really like:

I'm addicted to fried mozzarella sticks.

FOLKS GET REAL!

Wrestling gone wrong? More like, gone right. Why's the big guy taking a nap?

God, but the souls still burns

I trust a British accent. It's like the BBC!

Y'alltubesday

2010-04-20T23:12:00.002-04:00

OMG SO TRUE!!!!!

YYUUUUUUUOTUUUUBBBBBEESSSDAAAAAAYYYYY!1

2010-04-06T21:00:00.002-04:00

You2besday:

WATCH THE WHOLE THING

YOUTUBESDAY!

2010-03-16T23:08:00.002-04:00

EMBED-Midget on Cops doesn't wanna goto jail - Watch more free videos

Iranian of the Day!!!

2009-09-30T15:59:00.006-04:00

Here's a peek into "Iranians of the day". What does it take an Iranian to make it into this elite list? Clicky on the linky to find out.

http://www.iranian.com/main/iranians_of_the_day

P.S: If you are Iranian: RightF*ckingNow supports your Darius-style attempts to get on that list with all its Ahmedinajad.

lost and found: short fiction

2009-06-29T01:13:00.002-04:00

A Birthday Party

The awful stink of disinfectant wrinkled my nostrils. Hisses and clicks from various medical equipment were punctuated by the rhythmic beep of the cardiograph connected to the vegetable in the next bed.
“Fucking hell! Can you turn that shit off!?” bellowed Guy motioning to the television that was playing some soap opera that I didn't recognize and hadn't noticed until that moment. I obliged and clicked it off.
“That guy just sleeps all day.” offered Guy motioning to the prone and silent body in the other bed. Guy was also lying prone in his own hospital bed, his hands wrapped in bandages.
“I think he's in a coma, Guy.” I responded.
“Whatever. Can you hand me his pudding? I can't grab shit with these.” He hoisted his mummified hands into the air and shrugged. “I don't even know why they leave him food. Seems like a waste to me.”
“Sure.” I said, smiling, and set the small bowl of quivering brown goo on his bedside table. “I brought you this so you don't get bored.” I extended an older Gameboy to Guy who, wincing, clasped it between his bandaged mitts. “Tetris.”
“Ha! Thanks!” he said with a sardonic but playful grin.
“What's the deal with those anyway?” I asked, motioning to his bandaged hands.
“Oh, that's where the cold did tissue damage.” Guy quipped, grinning. “Got my feet too!”
A large cart loaded with trays rumbled by propelled by a young bearded man that looked like some suburban conception of White Jesus.
“Christ, hospitals creep me out. Couldn't you have got a private room?” I asked, motioning to the inanimate body in the next bed.
“No way. Do you know what this is costing me?” Guy's face sank a little for the first time since I had seen him again. It was strange, he had been all smiles since the paramedics had revived him.
“Speaking of money, I brought the money I won from the contest. I wanted you to have it. I figured that maybe it could help with your medical bills.” I handed him a heavy envelope that bulged and clinked due to the assortment of change contained within. “That's all of it. Seventeen dollars and eighty nine cents.”
Guy's mouth laughed but his eyes did not. He didn't look at me. He seemed to be doing a few calculations in his head. “That was the whole wager?!” he shouted. A nurse looked in through the open door at us and shook her head disapprovingly.
“Yeah that's my percentage for winning.” I replied.
“Stick it in my bag, okay?” he asked.
I stuffed the envelope under a gray cashmere sweater in the fraying backpack full of unwashed clothes I had brought for him. I smiled encouragingly at Guy, moved the bag to the floor and sat down in the chair beside his bed.
“Oh man, what a ridiculous party.” Guy said. “Hey... why did we even get involved in such a stupid contest?”

The headlights made little pools in the center of the road. Trees and rock walls skidded through these pools fluidly. It was as if the car wasn't moving at all but rather the world was rising up to meet it and just as quickly slipping under and away. Everything beyond the road was trees and rock walls. Skeletal grasping at the navy blue skies. Rock walls hugging narrow country roads with more curves than their sibilant names. Sanders Store Road and Sassafras Street. Everything was trees and rock walls and road.
“Of course I know where we are going,” I said to Guy. “We're going to a birthday party.”
“Yes, but where are we? We're lost,” lisped a slightly unkempt and increasingly agitated Guy.
“We aren't lost. I know where we are going. See? This looks familiar.” I motioned to a stand of barren black trees near a crumbling wall.
We drove on in silence. I enjoyed the scenery. Truly, I felt that I must because I did not often have opportunities for leisure. But as luck would have it I found myself deep in the rural landscape. It was odd. Just earlier I had turned off of a busy thoroughfare and now it seemed as if the presence of another car would be an affront to the noble solitude of this place. However, I didn't view my own car as an intrusion. This scenery had the appeal of the driving stock footage that you sometimes see in old movies. Beautiful but existing only to communicate motion to me, the viewer. Yes, I truly liked this place.
“Stop here and get directions.”

A squat cinder block building blazing with white Christmas lights stood in front of the car. The large hand painted sign read ROBBINS GRO. The door spilled yellow light into the parking lot. As I crunched through the gravel of the lot I noted with some satisfaction that my car's paint job was in substantially better condition than those of the other patrons.
Crossing the threshold I was surprised to see that there were fewer customers than I had anticipated. Other than the fellow at the register there was only one other person in the entire place. The lone man wore a green hat pulled low over his eyes and leaned jauntily against the counter. The place also appeared to be some sort of taqueria or grill. The man watched intently as I entered and approached the register. He stepped back from the counter and ambled away in order to lurk somewhere behind me, his boots echoing in slow, hollow thuds.
“Hello!” boomed the clerk in a voice that was neither friendly nor threatening. “How can I help you?” His enormous voice caused the blonde hairs on his thick moustache, poised under his shining red eyes, to vibrate.
My neck inclined sharply upward, I realized that this man was very tall. “I was wondering if you could tell me how to get to Happy Valley Road?” I asked, a little unsteady.
“Yeah,” he said, trailing off into an uncomfortable silence. The flash and roar of a video poker machine behind me made my skeleton jump. “You take a left. Then it is your second left.”
I smiled. “Got it Left, second left.”
“Anything else?” he boomed.
“Uh, yeah. Two boxes of cigarettes,” I said, pointing at my brand's display.
“Five dollars even.” His moustache buzzed. I laid a five dollar bill on the counter leaving my wallet empty. Pocketing the cigarettes, I strolled confidently back to the car.
“Are we alright?” asked Guy smugly.
“Yes,” I said. “Left, second left.”

The light from the party was warmly glowing, a sharp contrast to the deadening cold outside. My car's thermometer had read eighteen degrees Fahrenheit (just under eight Celsisus) when we pulled up. I wandered through what was otherwise a spacious living room, now tightly packed with unfamiliar faces. Meeting my social obligations, I made small talk and silently wondered how I was connected to these people.
A stocky man with a face like a jack-o-lantern and a wiry tuft of black hair atop his head approached me confidently. This was my host and today was his birthday.
“Hi! Good to see you! Man, is it ever cold out!” I took the initiative because at that moment I realized that I could not remember his name. Surely I knew it. I had, after all, been invited to his party. He shook my hand vigorously. Our eyes met but no recognition registered in his pupils. His eyes focused again on some distant point beyond my head and his mouth bent crooked. He couldn't remember my name either!
“So glad you could make it out!” He weasled his way through small talk just as I had. “Have you had any of the cider? It is wonderful. I made it myself,” he beamed.
I hadn't tried it, nor was I likely to. The warm smells of mulling spices radiated through the air but I was not swayed. I was feeling particularly inert that evening.
However, I soon found myself sweating as I drifted from one awkward conversation to another. Nothing I said seemed to agree with any of the other guests. I knew almost no one there and a combination of social anxiety and the blasting furnace soon obliged me to remove my coat.
“Surely,” I said “What is happening in the Sudan is a great tragedy but one must ask 'Where does my responsibility for others begin and end?' For that matter, what are the limits of my responsibility for myself?” This comment did not seem to please my incidental conversation partner. He was a tall, skinny man with a pointed beard smelling strongly of herbs and soil. He seemed to be a pragmatist of some kind. A practical man interested in solutions but not in deeper philosophical questions.
Guy floated toward me clutching a bottle of beer. He too had doffed his jacket and was sweating profusely.
“It is awfully warm in here,” he complained.
“Yes, it certainly is,” I agreed. Motioning to the door with my head I asked: “Care for some air?”

I stood naked, save for my shoes, in the cold night air. A gentle breeze caressed my nude flesh like some deathly lover. Guy stood beside me, matching my nudity. Neither of us could rightly say why we were standing outdoors in a profound state of undress. There was something about a contest, though no prize had been named. I was pretty sure that I had suggested this irresponsible farce of a challenge to Guy out of boredom but as the uncomfortable circumstances became more and more clear I found that I wasn't willing to claim responsibility. Our host stepped onto a box and addressed the assembled spectators.
“The rules of the contest are as follows,” he said, his enormous grin splitting his face in half. “Each contestant is permitted his shoes only. Time will be kept by a designated time keeper. The contestants may not interfere with each other in any way. This means no touching or other forms of sabotage. The winner is the last man standing. A contestant can forfeit at any time by simply walking into the house. If you gentlemen are ready,” he motioned to Guy and I, “We will begin.”
The cold was not nearly as awful as I had expected. In fact, I did not even shiver at first. Guy wore a stoic expression and likewise did not shiver. His silence suggested to me that his expression was merely a facade that required a great force of will to maintain. The minutes crept by slowly, ticked off by the time keeper, an enormous, bearded man who claimed to work in a French restaurant.
After thirty minutes had elapsed, many of the spectators lost interest in the contest and returned to the warmth of the house. Guy was shivering now, as was I. I knew that I could win this contest. Of the two of us, I was best equipped. I had a greater body mass and, unlike my opponent, I had not been drinking. Alcohol brings the blood to the surface of the skin, creating the illusion of warmth for a moment but ultimately decreasing the body's core temperature.
“I think you've got an unfair advantage,” Guy joked. “You're still wearing your lipids.”
I flashed my teeth at him and laughed “You aren't ready to quit are you?”
The next fifteen minutes were significantly worse than the previous thirty. It seemed to have gotten colder, if that was possible. Guy was inspecting a spilled cocktail near his foot that had frozen solid. His lips were noticeably blue and his skin was glowing red. I was dealing with the cold by retreating into an empty spot in my mind. Empty of care and worry, of sensation. Empty of body and empty of mind. I glanced at Guy and shot him a thumbs up then retreated back to my emptiness.
I was startled to awareness by the time keeper's announcement:
“One hour,” he said. “Very impressive. Would you gentlemen care to step inside for some cider?”
“No!” Guy nearly shouted. He had a funny look in his eyes.
“No.” I said diminutively. “That would constitute a forfeiture.”
“As you wish,” the time keeper conceded.
As our bodies' temperatures dropped so did Guy. He had adopted a squatting position, resting on his heels. His arms were wrapped tightly around his shoulders and he rocked gently back and forth. His skin was bright red now and his shivering had become increasingly violent. All was silent save for the chattering of his teeth. I stood motionless, hands at my side. My shivering had subsided again.
“One hour and thirty minutes,” the time keeper announced.
So long, I thought. Guy was not in good condition. He was exhibiting the symptoms of advancing hypothermia. I hope he quits soon, I thought.
“Do you wish to concede, Guy?” I asked gently.
“No.” he said weakly but with determination. He looked up at me and smiled wanly. His head dropped back between his knees.
“One hour and forty five minutes,” chimed the time keeper.
I glanced at Guy. He was in much the same condition as before except his skin was no longer red. It was taking on a pale hue. He really should give up. Truly, someone should make him quit. He might get hurt.
At the two hour mark I made the decision to forfeit. The party was winding down and it had gone on quite without us. Guy was now slumped on the ground, sitting in a frozen puddle of whiskey and sour mix. His lead lolled gently from side to side. I gathered my clothing and carefully inserted my numbed extremities into the corresponding articles until I was dressed. Walking toward the house I glanced over my shoulder at Guy and said: “Alright. That's it. You're the winner. Get yourself together and come inside.” There was no answer. I turned and saw the great, bearded waiter looming over Guy. He turned to me with an alarmed look on his face.
“I think he's unconscious,” the gargantuan waiter said. “Maybe someone should call 911?”

Apnea induced creativity

2009-03-31T00:47:00.001-04:00

We're drinking to show we care!

2009-03-29T19:21:00.005-04:00

Come have a cocktail with us to raise money for Street Library programs in Ocean Hill and beyond. The evening is simply going to be fantastic. Where else can you get two martinis and hors d'oeuvres for $20? Advance tickets are available. See the flier for contact info.

-N

Gandhi

2009-03-25T22:36:00.006-04:00

A pretty American food connoisseur and social activist enjoying Indian food and beer offered by Gandhi in exchange for her depreciated dollars

A recent jaunt to the East Village took me to Gandhi. Gandhi, as everyone knows, was a staunch advocate of non-violence and vegetarianism. Gandhi, albeit knowingly or unknowingly, also marketed "Brand Gandhi" to his countrymen and captivated the West with what had to be offered.

When i had my rendezvous with Gandhi in the East Village, a lot had changed. Gandhi presented me with a full menu of Non-Vegetarian and Seafood entrees not to mention a selection of Indian beer. Motivating millions of Indians was clearly not the goal- "Brand Gandhi" was now being targeted at a completely different crowd. The young and hip in and around the East Village. Clearly, the message had changed. Gandhi enticed me and my girlfriend to spend a major part of our evening listening to the music, food and Indian beer that was offered. A quick glance around proved my worst fears- the crowd was almost all American, white and young. Once again capitalism reared its proverbial head and forced Gandhi to cater to people who were willing to part their money for something that can be marketable if packaged in a clever way- in this case Indian food. Gandhi no longer was for the masses, certainly not for the poor, neither for the austerely vegetarian nor for the mild mannered intellectuals. Half a century ago Gandhi won a battle but now lost a war eventually succumbing to "Market forces". Long live the Dollar!

The Unedited...

2009-02-20T20:12:00.006-05:00

We haven't been posting for a while because we've been touring the universe in a hot air balloon powered by jazz and there's no internet on one side of my room. Recently I browsed through my gmail spambox and found a great Nigerian scam email. It isn't from Nigeria (an innovation I appreciate - very clever you scammers). The best part of it, other than the awkward english, is the super heavy christianity. Boy it's thick! Enjoy!

From Mrs Naomi Solomon

No[204 Rue Des Martyrs Cocody
Abidjan, Cote d'Ivoire

ATTN:
DEAREST ONE OF GOD

I am the above named person from Kuwait . I am married to Mr Anthony Solomon who worked with Kuwait embassy in Ivory Coast for nine years before he died in the year 2004. We were married for eleven years without a child. He died after a brief illness that lasted for only four days.Before his death we were both born again Christian. Since his death I decided not to remarry or get a child outside my matrimonial home which the Bible is against. When my late husband was alive he deposited the sum of $2. 5 Million (Two Million Five Hundred U.S. Dollars) in the bank here in Abidjan in suspense account.

Presently, the fund is still with the bank. Recently, my Doctor told me that i have serious sickness which is cancer problem. The one that disturbs me most is my stroke sickness. Having known my condition I decided to donate this fund to a church or individual that will utilize this money the way I am going to instruct herein. I want a church that will use this fund for orphanages, widows, propagating the word of God and to endeavour that the house of God is maintained.

The Bible made us to understand that blessed is the hand that giveth. I took this decision because I don’t have any child that will inherit this money and my husband relatives are not Christians and I don’t want my husband efforts to be used by unbelievers. I don’t want a situation where this money will be used in an ungodly way. This is why I am taking this decision. I am not afraid of death hence i know where I am going. I know that I am going to be in the bosom of the Lord. Exodus 14 VS 14 says that the Lord will fight my case and I shall hold my peace.

I don't need any telephone communication in this regard because of my health hence the presence of my husband relatives is around me always I don't want them to know about this development. With God all things are possible. As soon as I receive your reply I shall give you the contact of the bank here in Abidjan . I want you and the church to always pray for me because the Lord is my shepherd. My happiness is that I lived a life of a worthy Christian. Whoever that wants to serve the Lord must serve him in spirit and Truth. Please always be prayerful all through your life.

Contact me on the above e-mail address for more information, any delay in your reply will give me room in sourcing another church or individual for this same purpose. Please assure me that you will act accordingly as I Stated herein. Hoping to receive your reply.
Remain blessed in the Lord.

Yours in Chris
Mrs Naomi Solomon.

Go with Chris bra.

Free Cyber-Punk Yoga: Fridays @ 10AM

2009-01-30T09:27:00.003-05:00

Biko Arts Collective is hosting a free cyber-punk Yoga class at 1474 Bushwick Avenue (on the corner of Bushwick and Granite St) for any and all interested member of the greater Bushwick community.

You may find yourself asking, "What is cyber-punk yoga?"

The answer is simple: instead of a yoga instructor we've got pirate yoga DVDs playing 9 feet tall on the walls of our performance space. Come check out our new oak floors and do some stretches with a Rodney Yee DVD for free.

MOVIE REVIEW: Gran Torino

2009-01-11T09:36:00.006-05:00

Yesterday I had the distinct pleasure of attending the motion picture film Gran Torino, starring a well-preserved Clint Eastwood spouting jarringly repugnant racist invective with frighteningly casual frequency. The response of the Ohio audience sharing the theater with me was rather disconcerting. They laughed as if "gook" or "spook" were the punchline to all of their favorite jokes. I'm making the assumption that the laughter was a nervous response to something that should otherwise be held as unacceptable. (Though you know what they say about assumptions.) Racial insensitivity aside, Gran Torino is far from the violent revenge flick it has been billing itself as in the trailers. Very far from it, in fact. Vendetta fans be warned! Eastwood never even fires a weapon. This fact, ladies and gentlemen, is what makes Gran Torino such an acceptable film, in spite of Eastwood's (as crusty Korean war vet Walt Kowalski) painfully flippant use of nearly ever racial slur I've ever heard (he even revives the classic anti-Caucasoid jeer 'ofay' which I am now on a mission to reclaim for my people). No, rather than being a violence-packed revenge tale Gran Torino is a story of redemption. I won't spoil the film and simply urge you to go see the film that may be Hollywood legend Clint Eastwood's last starring role. The film is writer Nick Schenk's first actualized screenplay and, in my estimation, he has earned himself license for at least one more flick.

SYIH Brian Makenzie infoshop

2008-12-09T11:28:00.003-05:00

The article:
Anarchist Hangout Surrendering to Market Forces

My reaction:
Every single time I was in DC I would try to go by this infoshop. In lieu, sometimes, of doing more interesting things. Every single time I would try to go, always at a reasonable hour when it was indicated to be open, it would be closed. Where were the volunteers? I stopped no less than five times over the course of this year only to find the infoshop abandoned. The only difference now is that the materials in the infoshop are no longer locked in a neglected shop but are being distributed.

So, see you in hell Brian Makenzie infoshop. I won't miss what was never fully there.

Social Notworking

2008-12-08T16:56:00.002-05:00

After receiving hundreds of email invitations, I have joined linkedin.com, which is like facebook but with the additional annoyance that it is supposed to be professional and function like a resume. This is one aspect that social networking sites like facebook and ____(insert next trendy site here)_____, haven't been providing: pressure to impress and rating you based on how much of your profile you have completed. I get +15% if I load my profile with every "position" I can think of!

What happens if I get 100% completion? I hope I get to meet Yoshi on the roof of the castle! It's going to be hard for me because things like "Social Work" "Civil Service" "Children's Reading Program" and "Community Center" are not considered 'industries'. So it's all the fun of making a resume but with endless html forms. Such a pity I am bad at self-aggrandizement and hate making resumes.

But, due to popular request, I will be on linkedin.com because people want me to be their ~~internet friend~~ internet colleague. So...

Check out my linkedinpark page!

How the Pie was Made and Where It Got Us

2008-12-06T18:02:00.012-05:00

Bushwick, NY:

The Beginning

On Thursday, Biko was the epicenter of what is going to be touted as the second Pizza Rivoluzione (the first one happened when Americans child-abused the Italian recipe and minted commemorative golden dollar coin sets for home-bound hobbyists).

It all started with the inconspicuous entry of a new oven into the Biko kitchen. It is no coincidence that some residents a.k.a Abraham's Lot (see previous posts for details) in the house had been controlling their drool for months at the mere sight of oven baked food. Anyways the "Means" was sitting pretty and petite in the kitchen but the "Method" had to be perfected. For making a pie...pizza pie.

Cheese connoisseur cum ex-Pizzazio Nick ventured into the safe and comfortable environs of Trader Joe's and the East Village Cheese Shop and exchanged his recession dollars for pizza dough and gourmet cheese. Back in the center band members along with their new manager Anneliese "The Anal" Babette helped do the prep work and helped Nick knead the dough on the peel into an easily recognizable shape. Members of the international community ranging from Belize to as far as China looked on haplessly as the drama unfolded.

Two pies were baked that night filling the building with enchanting aromas reminding residents of THE GODFATHER. Pies got eaten, stomachs got filled and wine was drunk. Good gustational times.

The Aftermath:

Band members of Christian rock group Abraham's Lot have undergone a drastic metamorphosis from being a religious folk-punk group to Italian wedding band. As if that wasn't radical enough to outdo the Bushwick hipsters in radicality, they even started applying copious amounts of L.A Looks Hair gel and started talking with a pronounced Italian accent. A typical conversation with the band members exposes any linguistically challenged individual to authentic Italian words like provencia, calabria, Sicilia, grazie, mama mia, fugghedaboutit and "hov yoo doin'?" Last heard, they have started to address their manager as "Maa-ma!" especially around the kitchen.

Thursday is Pizza Day

2008-12-05T01:42:00.005-05:00

Thursday is pizza day, ever since we got our oven fixed. This was our first attempt using Liese's new pizza stone and things came out great. I edited a quick video of our exploits together. We may provide something more instructive in the future. Share your favorite pizza recipes with us and maybe we'll feature them!

About the weather

2008-11-22T17:21:00.004-05:00

It is what we call "suicide weather" out. It is ice cold, the wind is blowing, and the sun sets at 3:30 if it comes up at all. It is so unpleasant to be outside, nothing fun can be accomplished. Inside, all the good food has been eaten and no one is energetic enough for a cannibalistic holocaust. We have been watching movies so much they all blur in to one another. We used all our recreational drugs and the only way to get more is to go outside and it's too cold out there.

In addition to the weather, the US economy has gone to shit. There is no work for a production assistant like me since all the rich people are busy freaking out because they won't be quite as rich as they used to be. Although, if I had money I would just be throwing it in to the furnace anyway because I'm not going anywhere to spend it; but I would feel better if I wasn't so broke.

It is impossible to go hang out with my friends because cell phone signals are freezing in the air and falling onto the street. One day I was trying to go to Manhattan and the train slid all the way to New Jersey on frozen tracks and then the conductor and driver hung themselves because they weren't going to do anything after work because it's just too cold. I turned on the TV and there wasn't anything on except coverage of Obama's peanut gallery; Obama isn't here cuddling with me and keeping me warm so forget about that guy!

The only thing that isn't frozen solid, given up, or boring and uninteresting is the internets... oh wait... nope. Nevermind.

Review of David Lynch's "Inland Empire"

2008-11-07T11:39:00.003-05:00

What accounts for my absence?

Something about the basement. It's actually larger than the house itself. It extends underneath the sidewalk for a few feet. Usually this isn't very disorienting because the basement is just piles of assorted junk and it's possible to see over all the piles to the other side of the basement.

[IMAGE REMOVED]

For Halloween, I rearranged the junk to form walls in to a sort of a maze. I took the piles of boards and panels and propped them up against pillars, I rigged abandoned mattresses and doors in to floor to ceiling walls. It was no longer possible to see the walls of the basement besides the one that the participant was closest to. The walls created dark areas and obscured two of the basement's meager ceiling lights. It was a fairly simple maze, an L inside of a D.
I drank a deuce and was drinking some scotch while I replaced the lingering white bulbs with red and purple bulbs. In a dark corner I screwed a bulb into an empty socket, unlike some other sockets in the basement, this one worked and illuminated a long unnoticed recessed corner. In the corner was a mound of objects covered in a clear dropcloth made opaque by filth. Curious, I pulled the dropcloth off, spilling dust that clouded the air.
There was an overwhelming petroleum miasma. I stumbled backward into a magazine rack full of fake flowers leaning against a rusty file cabinet. The plastic barrier had been covering two gardern tillers which were mounted to a white iron tub standing on lion paws. Black oil leaked out of the engines into the tub coating rat skeletons embedded in excrement. A porcelain sink basin was mounted on top, obscured by layers of rotting insulation and newspaper that hung like flesh over the tiller's blades.

[IMAGE REMOVED]

I shuffled around a boxspring wall into a dark corner and leaned on the outer wall of the basement, underneath the sidewalk, rolled a cigarette and flicked my lighter to see if there was any explosive vapor in the air. Satisfied that there wasn't I lit my cigarette. The smoke hung lifelessly in the air with the dust and gasoline odor. The atmosphere was oppressive and my scotch was out of reach on a rusty file cabinet. The tobacco smoke and lung damage made the basement tolerable enough that I retrieved my drink and took a closer look at the machine. It was connected to the pipes running above my head; a racoon-sized rat rushed from behind the contraption and into the makeshift barricades, finding it's path obscured and difficult, it squealed and scratched as if it had gotten trapped. Something shifted in the thickness, there was small knock, tiny scratches flew across the basement.
Bemused, I sipped my drink and noticed a thin film on the surface as I lowered the glass from my face. I walked through the dark corner on my way out of the basement and bumped into a bookshelf in the darkness. I took a left, and then another, and found myself completely disoriented. I downed the scotch and set the glass down on the cracked and undulating floor. I never saw that particular glass again. I twisted on an LED candle and walked along the outside wall until a wall made out of stacked drawers and bed slats wedged against the ceiling forced me away. An array of mutilated bicycled bound together by nooses further blocked my route. I turned around was confounded by more corners and featureless passages of pasteboard and water damage made noteworthy only because of the grime and oppressive vapors.
I found a brick outer wall, covered in flaking white paint with a graffiti tag: SY0A0YZ

[IMAGE REMOVED]

I heard people stepped on the iron basement door, somewhere out of sight. The sound of a subway train was near. It grew and there was slight vibration, followed by the muffled screech of brakes, the computer voice of the train passed through concrete, the earthen roar of the departing train. Farther down the hallway, a sliver of red light came from a thin opening. A green door hung in the tunnel, slightly open. The doorknob was missing and the hole was covered in black tape. I gripped at the edge of the door frame with my fingernails and pulled it open.

[IMAGE REMOVED]

The castle is big and sprawling. Each of the castle's different areas are fairly monotonous by themselves, but they all have their own distinct feel. The different rooms in each area may be similar, or in some cases all the same, but they are distinct in design from the repetitive rooms of other areas. Traversing the castle is made easier by satanic warp zones, but the variety of enemies and combat tactics are enjoyable enough that the warp zones are not necessary.
Truely, a video I found on the internet is worth a million words, so here is a video from that delightful website, letsplayarchive.com. Two awkward Somethingawful.com forum goons play this game, hopefully giving the reader some idea of the great gameplay:

They did a great job playing the game and describing the exciting things encountered in the game play. Sadly, they also experienced, as will all who play this game, a bit of the story. Fortunately, there is very little story in the game, unfortunately, it gave me permanent brain damage. Let's give a hand to the people who made this video and allowed me to be lazy with my description.
Though some say they left to find the inland empire, Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow is a most worthy successor to the 2D Metroid games. I would even say that the added RPG elements and creative monsters make this installment better than any 2D metroid game. The random acquisition of powers gives the game some replayability. I'm looking forward to checking out the bonus disk and perhaps brewing some coffee.

History is made!

2008-11-05T17:56:00.002-05:00

History was made last night with America electing Barack to be its next President. All I can say is common sense prevailed and the world no longer thinks all Americans are idiots, only some of them are. In other news, McCain continues to live and Palin makes her debut in a full length feature film, "Nailin' Palin",(Wink.Wink!) thus enabling thousands of Red-state flacid penises to have a brief, feeble erection. Wise career choice there. You betcha'!!

Grad School Project of the Damned

2008-11-03T09:22:00.004-05:00

So, I finished this school project last night. It isn't great but I burned my eyes and brain on it and I'm pretty proud of my first attempt with Photoshop and with Adobe Premiere. Please provide constructive criticism so next time I make a movie I don't edit like a high school boy fumbling with a bra. Thanks!

You can watch Grad School Project of the Damned HERE.

Free Diabetic Coma with Purchase of Democracy

2008-10-30T01:18:00.005-04:00

So apparently the merchants of sugary goodness want to reward us for giving consent to the process that will appoint our next Lord and Master. On November 4th just step into a Krispy Kreme for a free doughnut and wash it down with a free scoop of ice cream from Ben and Jerry's. How many of these places can there be in NYC? I think the real question is how long can I ride the train for free doughnuts and ice cream without my insulin. Click these links if you aren't yet blind from adult onset diabetes.

Ben and Jerry Want You!

Free Doughnut with Purchase of Vote

Sicko ( When NOT single)

2008-10-29T16:06:00.012-04:00

Pic: Febrile boyfriend gets tended to by his still healthy girlfriend

Falling sick can be depressing and frustrating especially when you are living alone. With the Flu going around, humans of both sexes need to take some pre-emptive measures which can turn this not so enjoyable experience into an immensely blissful one.

I have fallen sick many times(well not that many)in the past but I found myself alone and vulnerable. Not anymore! Here are a few tips that will change your febrile life forever:

Get a girlfriend. Yes. I can't stress on this point more. When women see that you're not well, they are overcome with empathy which is a natural response, thanks in part to their hormones. They will do a lot of things if not everything in their will to make you feel better. Here's what I got for falling sick: Breakfast in bed served with hot tea, Lunch in bed served with more hot tea and medication and Supper in bed served with some more hot tea and dessert. All I did was stay sick and be in bed!

But that's not all. The pot keeps sweetening and girlfriend keeps giving, contingent upon how you manage to detiorate your condition further either genuinely or by feigning more sickness. This step will open your hitherto single and lonely life compounded by bad health care policies and health insurance vermin to "Hotel TLC".

Once you enter this stage of sickness there's no looking back. In addition to the aforementioned Meals-in-bed routine you automatically qualify for added benefits which would make anyone with a gold card membership turn green with envy: Massage(Back or Full Body), Extra Heat in the room, Wet towel, Blow dry hair, coupled with intermittent making out sessions to list a few.

Neither of Obama's or McPain's health care policies include these added benefits because this post is far ahead of its times but there's hope. I strongly suggest readers to think ahead and prepare themselves for 2012. Who knows, if vouched for by good numbers, they may include a $ 1099.99 FYAG (Find yourself a girlfriend) check in your health care.

Zombies A JOE-JOE

2008-10-25T17:25:00.003-04:00

Halloween is upon us and no matter how much Joe despises zombies when you leave him in front of his laptop too long he inevitably becomes one. This is what you get.

A poem. By: Me.

2008-10-12T23:56:00.003-04:00

North Carolina Susurrus

Rodents rustle-scuffle and play my neighbors jazz snare.
Singing, far-off cries of cargo trains and
The Atlantic's distant murmur.

Wind whistling Dixie. Play the cotton dance while
Crickets fiddle in tobacco barns for bullfrog croaks to
The syncopated spatter of tin-roof rain.

A mountain midnight's shuddering branch
Speaks silently, with fiery tongues,
Of warmth and gray smoke; snap crack.

House key strides carry hurried jingles,
While rubber mutters on moist pavement.
Voltage hums and ripples in mid-day humid air.

A broken dollar silver-copper-tinkle
Heard over motorcar combustion growl.
Inhale, exhale softly, softly, sing.

Notes in the honeysuckle lull.
Moments unobserved, almost unheard.

---

If you like this poem please vote for it HERE.

A Touch of Metal

2008-10-11T03:22:00.007-04:00

REVIEW:

The Ghost of Always - Self-titled; 2008 Tintiltin Records

The Ghost Of Always delights with rapid fire rhythms and driving melodies. With songs ranging from darkly brooding ballads to futuristic rock epics their third installment delivers. This album rocks!

Robots on Welfare?

2008-10-10T12:01:00.004-04:00

Artificial Conversational Entities: Can A Machine Act Human and Be Given 'Rights'?

http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/260768

A fascinating article about artificial intelligence including a discussion of everyone's favorite gauge of humanity, the Turing Test!

Pictured below is the Battlefield Extraction and Retrieval (BEAR) Robot. They gave it funny little ears to make it less piss-your-pants terrifying. I imagine a wounded soldier is already emotionally vulnerable and I'm sure the shock of getting hoisted by a robot straight out of Terminator 2 is significant. Good thing it looks vaguely like a teddy bear. That's not even more terrifying and perverse.

More information about the BEAR can be found here.

Succulent Chipotle Pork

2008-10-05T23:05:00.004-04:00

It's been so long since we last talked! Well, I made you something delicious:

My friend Mrs. Cumberbatch gave us some boneless pork loin because she doesn't eat meat. I used the pork, some leftover beef liver, and two chipotle seasoning cubes to make a simple meal that tastes like it costs 45$ in Manhattan (not including the other courses).

First, I cut the pork, still frozen, into thin slices about a quarter of an inch thick. Thats about as thick as a standard stereo patch cord. It's important that it's frozen, because that will keep the meat very tender when it's being cooked. The actual cooking technique is similar to stir frying in that the meat is cooked very quickly, but the heat does not have to be extremely high.

I warmed up the skillet with a layer of oil with a medium flame and threw some liver in it when it's hot enough. I let the liver sizzle for a bit, it's not there to be eaten, it's there for flavor, so not so much. Wait a moment...

...

...ok, I put the sliced pork loin on the skillet (it's still mostly frozen). I broke up a chipotle flavor cube or two on them, I added some hot oil because I made some already. After a minute or so when the side touching the skillet stops being red and starts being cooked, they got flipped. When the pan filled up with juice, I turned up the heat a little bit. The insides are still a little pink (not too much though, it shouldn't be a problem if the pieces are thinly sliced enough), and juicy, and delicious. I even deglazed the pan with a splash of water and poured it, still boiling, on top of the sliced pork.

I know you aren't with me now to enjoy this meal, but I wish you were...

Burning hot chili oil

2008-10-05T21:19:00.003-04:00

Good hot oil is indispensable for cooking spicy food. A little bit of hot oil can turn up the heat, and a lot of hot oil will teach people not to steal your cooking. I used a combination of red chilies and scotch bonnets, probably a cup and a half in all, and finely diced them then put them in a cup of high heat oil, then turned the heat up until the pepper bits began to fry. I let them fry until they were almost burnt, but not quite, then turned off the heat.

When I packed it up I threw a couple of fresh chili peppers in the oil to make it look nicer. This oil is fucking hot, a few drops in any dish will make it quite spicy without changing the flavor much. A spoonful is enough for a big (like a gallon size) pot of stew, two spoonfuls to really light it up. Three spoonfuls will cure the flu. Half a cup causes psychedelic visions of possible futures, though, not necessarily of the most likely future time-line. I certainly wouldn't make any important decisions based on visions resulting from eating this hot oil.

Piture revue of debate 4 illiterate

2008-10-02T22:45:00.007-04:00

mmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy bunx!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

America is Hungry!

2008-10-02T22:02:00.003-04:00

The Veep Debates are chock full o' gustatory metaphors regarding the American people

Palin: Americans are hungry for... hungry for...

Biden even talked about Americans stomaches

ALSO:

mav·er·ick /ˈmævərɪk, ˈmævrɪk/ [mav-er-ik, mav-rik]
–noun

1. Southwestern U.S. an unbranded calf, cow, or steer, esp. an unbranded calf that is separated from its mother.
2. a lone dissenter, as an intellectual, an artist, or a politician, who takes an independent stand apart from his or her associates.
3. (initial capital letter) an electro-optically guided U.S. air-to-ground tactical missile for destroying tanks and other hardened targets at ranges up to 15 mi. (24 km).
[Origin: 1865–70, Americanism; after Samuel A. Maverick (1803–70), Texas pioneer who left his calves unbranded]

—Synonyms 2. nonconformist, independent, loner.

So in order to absorb the spectacle only second hand I'm looking up homebrewing supplies.

Here's a list of suppliers:
Austin Homebrew
Midwest Supplies
Northern Brewer

Black pepper fish with Green beans.

2008-09-30T23:02:00.006-04:00

This one is easy and delicious, but I don't know how to make every bit of it. You'll need some brow rice, some white fish, lime, ginger, black pepper, and whatever you need for the dishes that other people are cooking.

Make some brown rice first because it takes the longest to cook. Make sure to use enough water. Marinate the fish in lime with ginger and black pepper with a few hot chilies. After you make the string beans with peanut sauce (you'll have to ask Nick or Leise how to make them) and the lentils (You'll have to ask Victoria how to make those), put a little oil with a high smoke point in a cast iron skillet and get it hot. Take the fish, rub off as much of the prior seasoning you can, and put a fresh dusting of black pepper on it. Throw them on the skillet for a moment, turning them over every few seconds until the outside is just slightly burned. Deglaze the pan with the marinate and pour it over the fish as a sauce. It doesn't take long at all.

The Gothspell of St. Linux

2008-09-29T19:27:00.003-04:00

Yeshvir tha Dominator update: Recently, Yesh converted to an exciting religion called "Linux." He was babtized (sudo banp -t -x) friday morning when he used the MacOS program "bootcamp" to partition his Macbook's hard drive in to two chunks, a MacOS partition and a thrilling new ext3 partition. Yesh took a writ CD-R and placed it as an offering in the CD slot on his laptop. Upon restarting his Macbook, Yesh had an epiphany in the form of the Kubuntu live CD boot menu. Possessed by religious furvor, Yesh declined to boot off the CD and instead installed Kubuntu (KDE 4.0 version) to his hard drive. Lately, Yesh has been enjoying the speed of linux while browing the internet, but is forgoing the earthly pleasure of music because he has been unable to configure his proprietary soundcard. Yesh has also taken to eating vegetarian, stargazing, eating fresh chili peppers, burning insence in bowls of milk and blood, and shaved his pubic hair since he allowed linux to come in to his life.

Despite the urging of his close friends, Nick still refuses to open his eyes to the light of linux. May root have mercy on his soul. /amen/

EXTRA: As for that so-called "Christian Rock" band. A Youtube video of one of the members, bassist and lead singer Joseph "goodlooks" Roman, recently surfaced. It is presented here:

Christian Rock Band Steals!

2008-09-25T20:18:00.005-04:00

New York, New York- Members of the Christian rock band Abraham's Lot were photographed stealing a used bike from the New School bike stand earlier today. Singer/songwriter Joseph"Goodlooks"Roman and axeman Yeshua"Wildcard"Herod claimed to have heard God's voice before committing the deed. Fellow band member/drummer Nicholas"The Brain"Cannan was inside the premises spreading The Word during the act.

Upon being confronted by onlookers pointing out that stealing was against Christian teachings, the bandmates retorted "Stolen waters are sweet, and Bread eaten in secret is pleasant.-Proverbs 9:17" thus verbally disarming any potential whistleblowers in the crowd. Apparently they were able to remove the bike because the frame was not locked to the bike rack. Roman then proceeded to disassemble the front wheel subverting the unfortunate owner's locking techniques.

The bike in question was in good working condition. Authorities described it as a white, 10-speed aluminium alloy bike of European make. It has a dynamo attached to the front wheel for power generation. The incident in broad daylight highlights the greater problems the country is facing from the Religious Right and serves as a micro-indicator of ways and methods they zealously use to swindle money and resources in the greater context of things.

Authorities are urging Hipsters not to leave bikes unattended around the presence of Christians/Christian Bands even if they are securely locked. A Police alert has been announced for Abraham's Lot. They were last seen on the L (Gentrification) Train.

McCain for drilling in Alaska

2008-09-16T16:09:00.013-04:00

Dumfries,WV- Speaking to gatherers at the town hall in Dumfries, West Virginia McCain reiterated his stance on drilling in Alaska. He repeatedly pointed out to the fact that this country was facing extreme shortage of resources especially for the last two Bush terms.

"Although many American families have been facing acute shortages and feeling the pinch, myself included, we failed to look for resources in our own land; instead Washington became dependent on foreign resources for stopgap measures. This has resulted in millions of Americans losing their jobs especially here in West Virginia, Ohio and the mid-west in general. I regret some of my own policies in this regard, but I'm a changed man now."

To drive home his point the senile yet mobile Senator announced he would most definitely drill in Alaska for Intellect, not Oil as clueless News-media-at-large have consistently been reporting. Finding a VP nominee from Alaska was an eye opener for him and remote fishing villages in the great state of Alaska would supply America with fresh home grown intellect for ages to come, thus getting rid on foreign dependence, he opined.

At the end of the speech, campaign managers handed out free family-pack Crapola bars(limit 2 per household) to everyone at the gathering in order to promote healthy diet habit among the small town hill people in the state- another of McCain's pet projects if he wins in November.

Internet Archaeology

2008-09-13T12:12:00.006-04:00

I have uncovered a transcript from 1997 on Booknotes. I read it by a chance Googling but it turned out to be a very excellent interview with the most prolific Presidential speech writer in America, James C. Humes. Lot's of interesting things to be learned from this master of propaganda.

http://www.booknotes.org/Transcript/?ProgramID=1367

By the way, propaganda used to be a much more neutral term. It dates back to 1622 and its origins lie in the Catholic Church.

Target Bodega Fashion Blog

2008-09-09T13:38:00.004-04:00

So, I know Target (pronounced Tar-zhay) can make great T-shirts. I've seen them in stores, at least in North Carolina. In high school much of my parent-supplied wardrobe came from Target, and in college me and my room mates would make Target runs to pick up things like shower curtains and whatever. Target is cheap but nice, and they do have talented designers working for them. Last time I was in a big Target store I saw that they had really hip t-shirts with designs that evoked feelings like using a flash-based webpage and looking at cool amateur screen-printed shirts in Union Square. I don't really buy clothes anymore, and I don't shop at Target either. There isn't much of a Target presence in New York anyway, except for later this week.

I have had the pleasure of helping talented designer David Stark set up four brand new Target stores in Manhattan. Target, wearing its sunglasses at night and giving a double finger-point-gun to passersby, is emphasizing its hip edgy urban brand image by opening the stores as "Target Bodegas" for NY's fashion week.

MORE LIKE A FAUX-DEGA

The stores are decorated like a cartoon bodega with graphic panels depicted common bodega products like junk food, soaps, cereals, etc and large prop drink coolers, ice cream chillers and meat freezers, all in primary red and yellow. David Stark surely delivered on what Target wanted, creating a surreal parody of a bodega with a few points of genius detail. The otherwise simple and flat mood graphics of the bodega products all have weights on the products (i.e. the drawing of soda lists the net volume, 1 liter.) that creates a subliminal effect that adds excitement to the otherwise repetitive decor. The fauxdega is of course all about the Target brand, so their bullseye logo is EVERYWHERE like a strange distopia wherein all products are Target branded. I personally feel that the rampant yellow and red is oppressive but when the fauxdega is packed with people (as it inevitably will be) it may contribute to an overall brightening of the space.

Other than the theme of "bodega" the Target fauxdegas have nothing to do with real bodegas. Like a chapter from my upcoming 900 page philosophical exegesis "The Metaprocession of the Hyperreal: Facade, Spectacle, Unreality in New New York*" Target executives decided that the Target brand-identity could be enhanced by showcasing their new products in a format that is closely related to living in the boroughs of New York City; a certain image for their mainly suburban audience, and brand-work/publicity for the beginning of Fashion Week. The fauxdega is a simulation of a vague idea of a bodega, it captures the basic look of a bodega while not selling anything that a bodega actually sells. To be accurate though, it isn't truly hyperreal: It is not quite simulacra because it is a first-degree simulation, but it is a purified simulation of the sort that Disney is best known for. Like Epcot, it cloaks itself in the image of a thing, but an impression, a parody if you will. Unlike Epcot though, and most notable, the facade is only a shell, and the yolk is a completely different animal.

The core of the fauxdegas is Target's partnership with notable designers, none of which I have heard of before. Disregard the fact that all products are designed, these products are designed by upscale designers, leaders in their field, or something to that effect.

The women's line has some vest-tops and tank-tops that are attractive, but just in time for fall and winter when pretty girls won't be able to rock them properly. The men's and boy's clothes involve striped polo shirts and puffy vests that are highly anonymous going-back-to-school clothes. I guess parents still buy clothes for their kids at Target. With the exception of of great looking coat by Converse I wasn't blown away by their clothes. A particular disappointment was their t-shirts. Their offering in this spectacle was plain white and black t-shirt when I know they have cool t-shirt designs. The shoes were Converses for the men, and the women's shoes were mostly high heels, and I'm not a fan of heels. There was a spectacular pair of vivid blue pearled flats from Sigerson Morrison, but no other flats. Sadly, no boots; this fall and winter, if you want to be the hype shit, you're going to want some nice boots. You heard that here first, right fucking now.

The housewares collection had some nice clocks and a pair of very creative tea pots. There are some surprisingly robust yet stylish toilet brushes as well. As usual, Target's housewares is a solid collection designed by Michael Graves, who was Target's first designer; the tea pots and containers will look familiar to anyone who has been though Target's housewares section in the past few years. Fortunately, it is a strong, clean looking style.

In my opinion the purses are too loud for anyone over the age of 14, and I'm not knowledgeable about the make-up selection, but I recommend going au natural whenever possible. There are also some lawn gnomes that almost killed me. They jumped down at me with their pointy caps to try to crack open my skull and feast upon my brains, so I can't really recommend them.

As part of the spectacle the fauxdegas are only open for 4 days. It took longer than that to set them up. Fortunately for Target there is already quite a buzz. People would pass by and notice the stores and even SMS their friends. I overheard concern about long lines and crowding in the stores; the consumer's in-store experience was definitely a prime concern of Target executives, so I'm sure the crowd isn't going to be too bad of a scene, and the interior designers have laid out the two stores I have seen (B'way & 11th st and 6th ave & 57th st) in a way to maximize the space.

I doubt that I'll stop by one of the stores, but they are certainly interesting installations in Manhattan. They are a sort of brand-art exhibit. We shall see if four days is enough for Target or enough for New Yorkers.

Here is a Target commercial with music and dancing:

...and here is the full music video for Calabria, which itself is a little like a Target commercial except none of the fashions depicted are available in the fauxdegas. One day I'll shop at Target and be the sharp looking gentlemen in this video:

*itself a facade, a spectacle, an unreality. I mentioned it to enhance my brand-identity

Sarah Palin delivers!

2008-09-07T13:40:00.018-04:00

Alright, this a hypothetical situation assuming McCain still has a decent chance of sweeping the electoral vote.

Fast forward to October 2010. Its a beautiful day in the capital. The manicured lawns of the White House are filled with boisterous laughter of the Palin family. The children and grandchildren of the hockey- mom- turned President are playing with their new paintball guns gifted to them by their loving uncles in the NRA. Two year old (name-not-known) Palin is taking severe punishment from the other kids owed partially to his tryst with Trisomy 21. The gentle October breeze ruffles their hair, rustles the leaves and birds sing tiny notes lending the whole picture an embodiment of human joy.

Exactly six months ago McCains timely death form an idiopathic medical condition of his left cheek put Palin in the White House and in charge of the well being of unamused, 300 million plus American citizenry.

So far, she has failed them in all accounts. She went back on her promise of preparing home made meals for the National Guard. Funding was re-routed from schools to building sound infrastructure for Hockey stadiums. Alaskan Moose have been breeding non-stop for fear of extinction thus overtaking the human population there by a humongous margin and spilling on to neighboring Canada. Gas and condoms have been rationed for different reasons altogather. In general, the picture is overcast with gloom and dismay in contrast with the mood in the Presidential lawns.

Yet, the heading of this post reads "Sarah Palin delivers!" So do the headlines of the day in the NY Post and Washington Times.

Unbeknownst to the average American Palin HAS delivered - yet another baby that is. With a single stroke of rythimic pelvic contraction Palin has delivered more happiness and joy to the unsaitiable Conservative Right.

The Future Sound of London - The Isness

2008-08-24T22:05:00.006-04:00

This is very interesting. In the '90 FSOL made some of the most groundbreaking electronic music, so when I picked up their 2002 album "The Isness" I expected some breakbeat driven techno with ambient interludes and creative sampling. "We Have Explosive" is one of my most beloved tracks from my '90s childhood. "The Isness" is nothing like that at all. It is '60s style psychedelic music; at some point FSOL finished their mollies and got a bunch of 'cid. They also made friends with a veritable city of musicians, employing a whole orchestra of strings and horns, guitars, sitars, and a gospel choir. Regardless of my expectations, I will be having a dose of whatever FSOL has on hand because they have created a fantastic album of pastoral psychedelia.
The opener, Elysian Feels hearkens back to their days of samplers and synths, but it dissolves and gives way to the mello hippo disco show which is not disco at all. The lyrics are decent throughout the album, bordering on the dumb but lines like "he's feeling kind of low low/ thinks her life is go go/ but it's so so slow/ he's screaming for the do-do" and "while you're here miss medicinal/ well I think you're cuticle/ so beautiful" can be forgiven when they're woven into these electroacoustic soundscapes.
Consider the mammoth epic The Galaxial Phamaceutical. Electronic effects wash over acoustic guitar and horns, giving way to Beatles-style vocalizing over piano chords, building up again, and so on, all the way to the edge of the universe. It is notable that none of the album comes off as forced or hokey, especially given it's aspirations. A song like "Divinity" could easily come off wrong, with it's hey-na-na-nas and sitar, but FSOL crafts a gorgeous epic.
I suppose it is my bunx, but I never really regarded '90s electronic groups like The Chemical Brothers, FSOL, The Prodigy, Fatboy Slim, etc as songsmiths. I figured that they could create danceable party jams, but I didn't bother to keep up with the bands catalogs past the turn of the century. I thought that they would be turning out more of the same beats; much of their previous works haven't aged so well. It turns out that FSOL and The Chemical Brothers (I don't know about the Prodigy, nor Fatboy Slim) have come a long way and matured quite well.
The only caveat is whether one is in the mood for trippy hippy music. The album feels positively massive at an hour and change due to the the sheer density of the music. Rather than sitting to listen to the whole album, I've been enjoying it in increments, listening to a half at a time. I haven't had the chance to dose up to this album, or even to accompany the album with a bong pull, but I feel the album is ideal for drug use.
I'll find somewhere to upload some mp3s and share those, otherwise find an inexpensive way to acquire this album because it is good to have around, especially with fall approaching.

Belly Fat is The New Six Pack

2008-08-21T10:58:00.008-04:00

Thats right! Belly fat is the new six-pack. Say good bye to crunches and quit watching late night Fab-ab ads. Don't forget, you first heard it here!
(Right fucking now, Jason Hu exposes his soft under belly to a potential mate during a pre-mating ritual in Flushing, Queens.)

Enormous Cry Baby Sues Columbia!

2008-08-20T17:12:00.004-04:00

So apparently any whiny asshole can get a law degree. This guy is apparently so threatened by women that he is suing Columbia because of their Women's Studies program. This guy apparently sues every time his social life collapses, which seems fairly often considering that this guy is New York's whiniest douche bag. Women won't sleep with you? File suit against women learning. That will teach them! Hell, this guy even sued the night clubs where he failed to get laid. What a loser. (I am eagerly awaiting your legal response to my comments, you sniveling worm of a man. That's right, you - Den Hollander).

http://blogs.wsj.com/law/2008/08/18/anti-feminist-lawyer-sues-columbia-over-womens-studies-courses/#comment-280861

Hipsters didn't dance at Future Islands and EAR PWR show

2008-08-17T11:16:00.005-04:00

So I went with Nick to the EAR PWR and Future Island show and, no surprise, the majority of the crowd was non-dancing hipsters. Why do they not dance? Dancing is not only fun, but it contributes to the overall energy of the show, like cheering on Olympic athletes or yelling "amen!" when worshiping a false god. When people sit on couches in the edges of the room or lean on the walls with their arms crossed it makes it look like the music isn't awesome enough to make them move their body. Dancing also increases reproductive fitness.

The other annoyance was all the non-dancing hipsters taking pictures of me dancing. Whhhaat? Let me know when I turn up on Vice Magazine's DOs and DON'Ts or flickr/facebook. I was headbanging with some girl at the afterparty and this dude with a penis-extension camera squats down in front of us like he's dropping a duece in the woods and opens up with his camera flash. I'm not going to flatter myself, I'm sure he was taking pictures of Princess Skinny McPartygirl, but it was a lame interjection to my frenzied dancing. He was at risk of being stomped on. Hopefully I will be able to dredge up some pictures some stranger took of me so they could complain "THIS GUY WUZ DANCIN ALL CRAZY AND STEPPED ON MAH TOESES!! RUINT THE SHOW! A SERIOUS DON'T! LOL WHUT A DORK!"

People who dance at shows are awesome; fuck people who don't dance at high energy shows. Nina Simone said "You either got to dance or have sex!" some people are obviously doing neither, I prefer to do both. My theory is that it is a hold-over from the white puritans who first colonized the United States.

Future Shock Nostalgia!

2008-08-15T16:19:00.003-04:00

I am getting so very excited to see some of my favorite bands from my old life. Tonight upcoming future shock giant-robots Future Islands will be playing at the Silent Barn in Brooklyn. Future Islands is presently out of Baltimore where they are working with Dan Deacon's Wham City. They are formerly of Asheville, NC and Greenville NC. I have a bit of personal history with these guys and I'm eager to see them. Opening for them will be Asheville's Ear Pwr. I went to college with these cats and also have a personal connection. This show is going to feel like going home.

Where is the show?

Exit the L train at Halsey and take a left on Wyckoff walking towards Manhattan (past the gas station). The Silent Barn is on the right two blocks down. Doors are at 7:00PM. I'm not sure of the cover but these guys deserve your money. Go dance your ass off!

http://www.myspace.com/futureislands
http://www.myspace.com/earpwr

The "French Surrender"

2008-08-15T00:54:00.014-04:00

Event: Women's Fencing
What happened during this event will seriously bother you or may even traumatise you, especially if you are French. These pics tell a gripping and awe inspiring tale of how a French woman, on foreign soil, broke into the strict traditional bastion held only by the French male: SURRENDER.
Check this out.
From T to B
(Pic 1): French woman Mary Passepartout challenges random redneck American woman at the Olympics.

(Pic 2): Needless to say, fight ensues: the swords are drawn again, three full centuries after the Louisana purchase. Also, a quick look at the pic reveals Passepartout (on your Left) flipping the finger at her counterpart even as she is in attack mode.

(Pic 3): Halfway through the fight Passepartout realises her folly.

(Pic 4): Genetics trump faux adrenaline rush- Passepartout lifts her face gaurd. Yes, this was the moment she was waiting for; her only chance to usher in a nouvelle révolution Française.

(Pic 5): She simply gives up and walks away denying the American a hard earned victory!

" Hey!!?" Does that make the French more civilized?" one may ask.
I do not know. Only time will tell.

NOTE: RightFuckingNow suggests you click on individual pictures to have a more intimate experience.

2008-08-15T00:27:00.001-04:00

The Manhattan Ranchers Testicles sans the testicles.

2008-08-14T14:18:00.001-04:00

Ranchers Testicles/Huevos Rancheros in HD for the visually impaired.

Rancher Testicles

2008-08-14T12:29:00.005-04:00

Huevos Rancheros is basically beans with eggs on top, with veggies on top of that. As always, the main rule is: do what you want to do, don't do what you don't want to do. Let's start with the beans:

For the beans, I used black beans and mixed them with refried beans. I started by frying some garlic, jalepeno, and a few small pieces of cow liver. After they was all cooked up good, I put in some cilantro stalk and some lime. We cooked them long enough to thicken up a bit, maybe about an hour.

Our neighbor Leonard came by and hooked us up with some sausages. The eggs were fried in the sausage greese by Nick. Easy. We also fried some corn tortillas. This too is easy.

The best part is the fresh vegetables to top it all off with. I chose red pepper, cilantro, avocado, and tomatillo, you are free to choose anything you wish. I cut up all the vegetables in medium sized pieces and salted them and mixed them in a bowl and put them in the refridgerator.

Here is a diagram of how I chose arrange the pieces:

------Salsa---------------------
-------------------Vegetables---
---Sausage---Egg----Tortilla---
-------------Beans------------

Here is a picture:

As always, you are free to make your food any way that you feel like.

2008-08-14T01:20:00.007-04:00

In this picture, this hitherto aggressive dog with serious behavioral problems has entirely submitted to his masters' whims. They are now IN CONTROL, which means the dog is high on a concoction of mind altering substances and is blisfully rolling in its own pee. They are also his pack leaders after having mastered Cesar Milan's techniques. The Dog weesperror's techniques work. What..? ...what did you say...Tschhhh.....

J K Bong (Joe's fav Pitcher)

2008-08-14T01:07:00.005-04:00

J K Bong, the now famous Olympic baseball pitcher from Korea, seen here in action against United States. Notice how the former pothead turned "medical" marijuana user, Bong, undergoes various emotional changes in his quest for the Gold.

Breaking In

2008-08-14T00:05:00.004-04:00

Right fucking now, as Joe and Nick are in deep slumber partly induced by the fine dining experience which included Tuna steak(pic below), I, unfortunately have to rant about how my reflexes let me down. I came home, put my keys on the table but wanted to go out again. So i close the door shut even as I realise i forgot to take my keys with me. My brain screamed STOP but my hands slammed the door shut in one swift, nonchalant arc of motion. Now my lock is broke and it will take me some prying to get in or out. I guess i have to train my hands to obey my brain. I'll work on my reflexes like that guy in Karate Kid - yeah i'll blindfold myself and try to catch fish. Or maybe swat flies, whichever is easier...

Dinner 08/13

2008-08-13T20:03:00.002-04:00

Joe and I grilled some corn. That's pretty easy - do nothing but put it over fire.

We also grilled some tuna steaks marinated with a bit of soy and lime juice. Those came out over done. Next time I'll be quicker.

First recipe: Nick cooked lunch

2008-08-13T14:20:00.003-04:00

Black Beans and Yam quick chili

1/2 yam, peeled and cubed
1/2 onion, sliced
4 cloves garlic, crushed and chopped
1/2 cup mixed bell pepper slices
1 can black beans
2 tsp salt
4 tsp chili powder
1/2 tsp clove, ground
2 1/2 tbsp cumin

Heat a few tsp of oil with a high smoke point, such as sunflower. Add the cubed yam and stir fry until the orange color brightens up. Pour a small amount of water into the pan and put a lid on it. Steam the yam until it is soft. Cook off the remaining water and add a few more drops of oil. Stir fry the onion and garlic until it starts to soften. Add the bell pepper slices. Pour off half of the liquid from the can and add to the pan. Cook until heated through. Serve with tortillas.

RIGHT FUCKING NOW IS RIGHT FUCKING NOW, RIGHT NOW!1

2008-08-13T13:09:00.000-04:00

Right now we are watching the Olympics. J K Bong is my favorite pitcher. We'll post a picture as soon as Yesh takes a picture of him.