Sexy Sadie, What Have You Done?

Originally uploaded by David Lynch Foundation Television

This is something I never thought I'd see. But it makes sense to me. A weird kind of sense, but sense. Click it bigger.

~~~
David Lynch & Crispin Glover's Big Blockbuster

These videos are dumb, but the guys nail the vocal impressions.

Word of the Day: alible

alible (adj)

Having nutrients; nourishing.

"'I care not how alible it is,'" Humphrey hissed as he tossed his Christmas gift, a colorful fruitcake, out of the window."
--Claudio Westhoven, The Masticator

Give Peas a Chance

I've always had a taste for "weird" music -- I'm the only person I know who has actually purchased a Yoko Ono album, and I have a thing for obscure film scores. So I thoroughly enjoyed listening to the mp3 samples available from the Vienna Vegetable Orchestra. The orchestra "consists exclusively of vegetable-based instruments, although where necessary, additional kitchen utensils such as knives or mixers are employed."

The mp3s I listened to all had a nice beet (sorry!). Rather than an orchestra, the music made me think of a chorus of joyful mutants on some very damp alien planet.

Much Ado about NOTHING

Ever call the Verizon customer-service number? You don't get to talk to a human (unless you press zero and wait a loonnnggg time while listening to meandering chill tunes). Instead, a sweet but no-nonsense female AI voice asks you to say various phrases as she entices you through an endless audio flow chart of service menus.

"Please say 'yes' or 'no'" is "her" favorite command; ambiguity she will not tolerate. If you give a more complex response (like "nah" or "absolutely baby"), she doesn't understand, and a hint of annoyance drifts into her voice as she says "I didn't quite get that." Balloon pop: it's as if you've told a joke to someone with no sense of humor.

"All right, let's start over. I can [blah, blah, blah] or I can [blah, blah]" she says, as if speaking to a child. "I can perform the following operations to your account: change of services, cancellation, speak to an agent....Please say 'speak to an agent'". OK, android lady. Whatever sweet nothing will turn you on.

I picture a woman in an audio-recording booth, repeating banalities like "Okay, what number are you calling about?" for hour after hour, trying to achieve a perfect blend of chipper solicitude and patient-but-firm authority. "A little more assertive this time, Sheila," the director says. "But not too bitchy."

What Have You Done Now?

There's nothing like an apology to clear the air -- especially a sincere apology. Sometimes a heartfelt-sounding excuse works, too. If you aren't feeling particularly sincere, though, there's always the Excuse-O-Mat. This text generator furnishes an endless supply of self-justifying rationales for all forms of perfidy.

I probably need an excuse for this:

Bad Haiku

Dear little puppy
Alone in the soft sunlight
Smashed to smithereens

Weekend Netflix Report: 'Cassandra's Dream'

Cassandra's Dream. Brothers Ian and Terry (Ewan McGregor and Colin Farrell) are two Brit idiots caught up in a fairly predictable murder plot/morality play, courtesy of Woody Allen, writing and directing in a genre he shouldn't attempt. The actors struggle (admirably at times) with a contrived and synthetic script that has them talking more like abstractions in Allen's head than real people. And who would ever believe that Colin Farrell and Ewan McGregor are brothers?

Some of the actors in minor roles are quite good, and I liked Philip Glass's score, but it's wasted on this.

WA, go back to something you're sometimes good at: erudite comedy set in an idealized Manhattan.

(Why did I watch two Colin Farrell hitman movies in a row? Because I'm working through a list that a cineaste friend gave me. I thought he was giving me recommendations, not a rundown of everything he's watched over the past year. Oh well.)

Shot in the Back of the Head

Shot In The Back Of The Head from Moby on Vimeo.

Music by Moby, video directed by David Lynch. Thumbs up.

Breakfast Bites Back

Marvel at the Adventures of Super Egg, a comic strip created by two guys in my office: Phil C. and Mauro B.

Here's the official blurb: "Join the adventures of Superegg and Stoney as they set out to fight the evil Zero egg and his not so smart henchmen."

In other news, some of my "Much Ado about NOTHING" persiflage is now in print and online at the Hudson Current -- here.

Fish Food for Thought

More clip-art philosophy by me (and James Allen).

Say It in Engrish!

We all make mistakes, and when it comes to using English words and phrases in ads and product designs, the Japanese make plenty.

Engrish.com showcases numerous examples, including a clothing store that calls itself COWPOO and a snack food named GERM BREAD.

As the website explains, most of these unintentionally hilarious errors are "not an attempt to communicate -- English is used as a design element in Japanese products and advertising to give them a modern look and feel (or just to "look cool"). There is often no attempt to try to get it right, nor do the vast majority of the Japanese population (= consumers) ever attempt to read the English design element in question..."

Word of the Day: oblomovism

oblomovism (n)

Indolence, apathy, indifference or laziness.

"He was reduced to Oblomovism, and spent his days sitting miserably at home, reading Schopenhauer...."
--A.N. Wilson, Tolstoy

I'm sitting on the couch as I type this, after a long day of chopping trees and sawing lumber (or whatever), and the pull of oblomovism is almost irresistible. In fact, I think I will

Random Acts of Poetry

Ode to a Grecian Urn

1.

THOU still unravish’d bride of quietness,
Thou foster-child of silence and slow time,
Sylvan historian, who canst thus express
A flowery tale more sweetly than our rhyme:
What leaf-fring’d legend haunts about thy shape
Of deities or mortals, or of both,
In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?
What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?
What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?
What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?

2.

Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard
Are sweeter; therefore, ye soft pipes, play on;
Not to the sensual ear, but, more endear’d,
Pipe to the spirit ditties of no tone:
Fair youth, beneath the trees, thou canst not leave
Thy song, nor ever can those trees be bare;
Bold Lover, never, never canst thou kiss,
Though winning near the goal—yet, do not grieve;
She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
For ever wilt thou love, and she be fair!

3.

Ah, happy, happy boughs! that cannot shed
Your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu;
And, happy melodist, unwearied,
For ever piping songs for ever new;
More happy love! more happy, happy love!
For ever warm and still to be enjoy’d,
For ever panting, and for ever young;
All breathing human passion far above,
That leaves a heart high-sorrowful and cloy’d,
A burning forehead, and a parching tongue.

4.

Who are these coming to the sacrifice?
To what green altar, O mysterious priest,
Lead’st thou that heifer lowing at the skies,
And all her silken flanks with garlands drest?
What little town by river or sea shore,
Or mountain-built with peaceful citadel,
Is emptied of this folk, this pious morn?
And, little town, thy streets for evermore
Will silent be; and not a soul to tell
Why thou art desolate, can e’er return.

5.

O Attic shape! Fair attitude! with brede
Of marble men and maidens overwrought,
With forest branches and the trodden weed;
Thou, silent form, dost tease us out of thought
As doth eternity: Cold Pastoral!
When old age shall this generation waste,
Thou shalt remain, in midst of other woe
Than ours, a friend to man, to whom thou say’st,
“Beauty is truth, truth beauty,”—that is all
Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

--John Keats