Friday, October 31, 2008

Wall Street: Less Responsible Than a Coked-Out NFL Running Back

The reason I keep pimping Rolling Stone's Matt Taibbi is because I inevitably go, "Damn, I never thought of it that way" every time I read one of his essays. I probably do that because he's a helluva lot smarter than I am.

Wall Street: Less Responsible Than a Coked-Out NFL Running Back

Damn, I never thought about Great Depression v.2.0 that way.

But I did think of the Republicans' plan to pin their mess on liberals and poor minorities this way, taken from an earlier Taibbi blog:

There aren’t enough low-income minority homeowners in the remaining years of human history to create $62 trillion worth of pressure on the economy. You’ve got not billions but trillions of dollars tied up in the Wall Street equivalent of a craps game – the ruling class of the earth gambling away the whole world’s bank deposits on a dice roll, which is about as irresponsible a use of resources as can be imagined – and guys like York want to blame the blowout on a few black people who tried to do something absolutely and completely sensible with their money, buying houses they intended to live in.

I'd love nothing more than to offer a link to his blog, but I'll also keep pimping him to you all just in case.

Thursday, October 30, 2008

Peace Through Rock & Roll

I guess it goes without saying that I pre-ordered Guitar Hero World Tour, but through some scheduling snafus I really didn't get any time with my new game until yesterday when I played the hell outta it.

Cliff Notes Review: Loads of fun; Great additions like drum and vocal tracks, create-a-rocker/guitar, loads of cameos, an Amoeba Records stage and an improved battle system that's more in the spirit of the game. Instead of beating them with tricks like snapped strings or amp overloads, you just gotta keep up with them in an intense jam session without getting booed off stage. This last touch goes with a much-needed step down in difficulty from the insanely hard Guitar Hero 3, which was often too brutal and competitive to be fun.

That said, I do prefer Rock Band, largely because of the setlist. Between the songs I've saved on the hard drive from the first game, the ones I've downloaded and those included in the second edition, it's a badass playlist that has a lot of tunes I absolutely love. There are some nice ones on GH4, but it lacks the "I gotta have that one" factor that the previous music games had. Definitely the weakest rundown to date.

Nonetheless, something very cool happened the other day as I finally got acquainted with both the game and the wonderful world of playing online.


You randomly get placed in a band and have nothing to go on in these anonymous gaming encounters except a screen name and character. Early on during the experience I found myself in a band with Dr Ice Berg and DiabolikLord. I'm not one for chit-chat, so I keep the headset that allows you to talk with your fellow gamers turned off. But upon being placed in this new band I was greeted with a strange "R0CKET King...Allllllooooooo, R0CKET Kiiiing?" coming from my speakers.

My silence was interrupted by the *other* bandmate, who began speaking German of all things. Then the first responded in kind. Soon, I was privy to a conversation that was likely taking place halfway around the world. I couldn't understand much...Actually I couldn't understand a damn thing that was said except when they mentioned a song title.

"Ich bin ein 'Love Removal Machine'"

"Ich möchte spielen 'Hot For Teacher'"

The funniest bit came when one of the dudes said something to the effect of, "Was wenn wir spielten 'The Joker' (Mimicing song's signature guitar effect) Weeeeeeet-wooooooo"

So as we ripped through a few songs, this gave me a vision of a better tomorrow, one in which a generation who have learned understanding and cooperation with people different than they are through years of joining forces via Xbox Live to hammer out Bullet For My Valentine songs stop blowing each other up over their nationalistic, religious or cultural differences.

Peace through rock & roll...Just like Rufus said it would be.

Sunday, October 26, 2008

The Death of a Red State

This is another Rolling Stone essay written by the brilliant author of the Sarah Palin essay I pimped here a couple weeks ago.

The Death of a Red State

The author validates a hope I've long held; Racism, if not dead, is at least in critical condition in this country and Obama's color and exotic name really won't be issues for most of the voters 9 days from now. If true, it would explain the GOP's sudden struggles as they no longer have the same tried and true villains to use as a distraction.

Thursday, October 23, 2008

The geeks shall inherit the Earth

Woman Arrested After Murdering Online Ex-Husband

I say throw the freakin' book at her. If some psycho chick messes with my musicians on Rock Band she better pray that the authorities get to her before I do.

What you *should* be watching every Wednesday



Yeah, I know what you're thinking: Here goes motorcycle boy telling us to watch a show about guys on bikes. Big f'n surprise, jerky.

The motorcycles in "Sons of Anarchy" are irrelevant, much like they matter little to the real life motorcycle clubs (Don't use the "g" word) the titular crew is based on. It's part of the culture and nothing more. This show just flat-out kicks ass.

"SoA" is the first episodic television show that I've followed since the "The Sopranos" bowed, and comparisons between the two are obvious. It's the tale of a crime family, only the Sons (Or SAMCRO: Sons of Anarchy Motorcycle Club Redwood Originals, in case you heed my advice and then wonder where the name comes from) wears patched leather vests and wallet chains instead of velour track suits and medallions. The most important comparison, though, is that both are amazing series that raise the bar on what we should expect from TV.

The program is intelligently written, shockingly dark without being overindulgant, and brilliantly acted; Patricularly Katey Sagal who is so amazing as the ruthless, calculating matriarch of the club that after a handful of eps that it's getting harder to remember that she played Peg Bundy for what seemed like half of my life.

As I said earlier, "SoA" will immediately remind you of "The Sopranos," but it would actually be more apt to compare "Sons" to Hamlet. Wouldn't you agree that a show with a pedigree that includes Tony Soprano and Bill Shakespeare may be worth your space on the DVR and hour every week?

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I'm in love...



It's called the Suzuki Gladius (Which, I believe, is Latin for sword), and unlike that badass Honda I drooled over awhile back, this bad boy will be available stateside very, very soon.

On top of being minimalist without being boring, it's based on the SV650 motor Suzuki has been building since Jesus was a child, so you know it's bombproof. I imagine it'll be even hotter with a proper set of bar-end mirrors replacing those bug-eyed deals the factory installs and a fender eliminator on for a cleaner profile on the backside.

With a $6,000-ish pricetag, I think you might see one beneath my ass moving very, very quickly up the 101 very, very soon.

Remember that Axl Rose guy?



Well apparently it really is go time for Chinese Democracy for reals as Axl and company continue to try to pull a massive viral tease by blitzing the 'net with a ton of promo videos only to pull them all just as quickly. This is following a couple years worth of "unauthorized leaks" of both songs and press releases that would promise drop dates which never materialized.

Why does it feel any different this time? Well, they rolled out an exclusive deal with Best Buy and iTunes. Axl may have been stringing what few fans he has left and his label along for 14 years now, but I don't believe for a second that he can get over on a pair of retail giants. If they're offering presales, then I'm a believer.

Now, if only I could be bothered to care. Sorry, but Axl has long chewed through every ounce of good will I ever had for him despite the fact that he's responsible for both my all-time favorite album and song.

I don't hold many grudges, so I'll swoop on a copy if I like what I hear. But Axl's gotta earn his way back into my good graces, much like Metallica did recently after they too spent a decade and a half killing their legacy.

Monday, October 20, 2008

Dubb-ya



After literally spending all-night at the New Bev watching a slew of, uh, let's be diplomatic and call them "interesting" horror films (Stay tuned for that story), I did the only rational thing a human being would do on Sunday and (Following a power nap) saw another scary movie, W.

Very interesting film, this one, focusing much more on the man himself and everything that shaped him than most of the events that will define his presidency. Oddly enough, though, the man is largely defined by the influence that several people in the background wield over him.

The first act deals with his younger years that are defined by alcoholism, several failed careers and the constant disappointment of his family, who very clearly favor Jeb Bush. The second is his redemption as he marries Laura Bush, gets sober, finds Christ, becomes governor of Texas much against his family's wishes and without their support and, ultimately, ascends to the presidency in what he believes is his divine calling. This leads to a third act that isn't his presidency but merely the Iraqi invasion, and I was really surprised at how sympathetic Oliver Stone seems to be toward Bush. Stone very clearly places the blame for the fiascos the world has suffered the last eight years largely on the same three shoulders most of us do:

Donald Rumsfeld: A loose cannon who seizes control of the Iraqi invasion in its infancy.

Dick Chaney: The quiet manipulator who understands how to finesse the headstrong, stubborn president as well as take advantage of his inattention to detail.

Karl Rove: Always lurking in the shadows. You can't always see him but you know he's there. He's a puppeteer who settles for pulling Bush's strings from behind the curtain because he doesn't have what it takes to stand behind the podium himself.

Ultimately, though, the film places a lot of blame on George senior, who is cold, distant and seemingly offers his son nothing but constant reminders of what a disappointment he is as the younger George blunders his way through the first half of his life. The film subltly argues that George Jr's heart is in the right place, but the misguidance of the Rumsfeld/Chaney/Rove triumverate as well as his burning desire to separate himself from his father and clearly define his own presidency leads to the foolish desicion to invade Baghdad.

So much has been written over the last few years about Bush's presidency that the film confidently chronicles the Iraqi blunders without any undue malice. Most of my disappointment over the past few years has fallen on Colin Powell, and this movie cements it. The film doesn't presuppose Chaney and Rumsfeld's motivation, but it doesn't take much conspiracy theory to assume why men who made fortunes in the war and oil businesses would want to go to war over oil. Powell was the one guy in the room who knew better; The voice of reason who tried to cut through the cabinet's hubris by telling them in no uncertain terms that not only is the invasion wrong it isn't going to be nearly as easy as they think it will be. I cringed and shuffled in my seat as I watched his futile battle with the Chaney/Rumsfeld two-headed beast for the president's influence, and my heart breaks as the film later shows Powell stand before the United Nations and effectively sell an invasion that he doesn't believe in.

The other very interesting figures are his enablers: Laura Bush and Condeleeza Rice. The first-lady crosses him once and learns never to do it again. Though he isn't abusive, she learns his fiery temper is just best to be avoided. Rice never offers anything but affirmation to the president. She doesn't cross Chaney or Rumsfeld, she doesn't back Powell and she never expresses even a hint of disatisfaction or anything resembling an opposing viewpoint. What other type of wife/secretary of state could've survived with such a bullish figure? Maybe we should ask the one who resigned shortly after his appearance before the U.N.

I've spoken a lot about the film's message and very little about its nuts and bolts. W. is very effective, and the peformances are strong. (Particularly Josh Brolin as W. and a frighteningly balls-on portrayal of Cheney by Richard Dreyfuss.) But the film geek in me couldn't help but take a back seat to the pissed-off American who's disgusted at the mess his country has created.

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

Wisdom from the mouth of Savage Steve Holland

As Election Day draws nearer and I get more and more concerned about who this dumbass country of our might elect (Sorry, I just don't trust polls), things are indeed gonna get a little political on my little corner of the blogosphere, so deal.

As McCain gets increasingly desperate, he's shfting the talk away from trivial things like facts and the issues and his new gameplan is to convince us all that we shouldn't like a terrorist lover like Obama, who no doubt seeks the White House so he can destroy this country he hates so much from the inside.

I find it very funny that he sends his attack bunny Palin to do the serious smear work, which I suppose is the role of a VP candidate. But hearing this hateful, cheap rhetoric come from a brainless bit of crumpet like her reminds me of one of my favorite childhood films, ONE CRAZY SUMMER.

The animated segements that served as a Greek chorus for the wackiness featured a gang of "cute and fuzzy bunnies" who terrorized our hero's animated counterpart. Their sweet outward appearance disguised their evil, hateful nature.



Seem familiar?

Sunday, October 5, 2008

GET'IM A BODY BAAAAG!





A few facts you may not know about the driving force behind the single greatest cinematic montage...EVER!

Thursday, October 2, 2008

Mad Dog Palin

Alright, I'm gonna ring the second recess bell here and call everyone into class for a moment.

I make it a point to only talk matters of frivality here, first and foremost because I'm a guy who is absolutely, passionately, madly in love with his frivilous pursuits. But also because I do have a pretty serious job in which calls on me to frequently watch people die. I like to think I handle it pretty well by never, ever bringing it home with me and by being as much of a child as I possibly can be when I'm not at work.

That said, I'm not a total jackass. I do keep an eye on current events, and like to think I'm way more up on global affairs than the average American, which I know ain't saying much. Our country's current direction nearly brings me to tears. I spent the first four years of the Bush regime hating our president, but I've spent the past four hating my countrymen for giving this guy another term. He is who he is, but we should know better.

Which leads me to this:

Mad Dog Palin

This is the most brilliant opinion piece I've ever read, and I implore you all to read it. It's not so much an attack on one of the VP candidates as it is a biting and balls-on condemnation of America.

If you don't feel like slogging through this, I'll give you the one 'graph that succinctly sums up my feelings heading into this election and why I'm voting the way I am:

So, sure, Barack Obama might be every bit as much a slick piece of imageering as Sarah Palin. The difference is in what the image represents. The Obama image represents tolerance, intelligence, education, patience with the notion of compromise and negotiation, and a willingness to stare ugly facts right in the face, all qualities we're actually going to need in government if we're going to get out of this huge mess we're in.

Amen.

I'm on a mission from God...

Been awhile, I know, but I've been easily distracted (i.e. Trying to complete Rock Band 2) lately, so I haven't downloaded the seemingly endless backlog of photos off of my camera let alone sat down to pontificate about said photos.

But, I have a rare quiet moment here at work right now, so I'm abusing my access to the Internet to relay a couple antecdotes, the first being a story born from my last rare quiet moment at work.

Free time is a dangerous things in the hands of my coworkers and I. Mayhem always ensues if we don't have deathly ill or broken patients to tend to. People get taped to their seats, gurneys or swivel chairs are raced down the hallways, Wile-E.-Coyote-esque weaponry is built out of medical supplies or, in the most innocuous cases, strange, strange conversations are held.

The most recent had to do with "it"s. "It Girls" and "It Guys"; Whatever you may be into. People shared their all-times, with varying degrees of weirdness. I don't have many celebrity crushes. Most actresses don't do it for me, and even fewer models do. There are a few hot musicians, but if she sucks then that pretty much kills my buzz. And considering that the vast majority of new music sucks, well, you can figure it out.

It came to be my turn, and though I hadn't thought about it in awhile, there really is one clear-cut all-time "It Girl": Miki Berenyi.



Only hardcore Doom-Generation music geeks remember Miki or Lush, the band she fronted in those heady Bill Clinton days. They didn't get as much pub as fellow Britpoppers Blur or especially Oasis, the latter of which was pretty much the biggest band in the world for awhile. However, Lush had a phenomenal sound, in large part thanks to Miki's vocals.


The Britpop label doesn't do Lush justice. Their sound was more dream pop: The hazy, etherial alternative stuff that served as the forerunner to trip hop. The Smashing Pumpkins often veered into dream pop territory. ("Today"; "Tonight, Tonight" or "1979", for example.) The Sundays and Mazzy Star were also very similar, with sounds built on jangly guitars and etherial female vocals.

But Lush did dream pop better than anyone; Even the insanely brilliant Billy Corgan. Their sound was more aggressive without getting heavy. The guitars were fuzzy, but they churned out beautiful, sunny melodies that framed Miki's dreamy, shimmering voice.

I imagine that it also didn't hurt that Miki was hotter than doughnut grease.

I first discovered Lush the same place I discovered most new music in the '90s: MTV's 120 Minutes. I know I'm dating myself by mentioning a time when MTV actually featured music.



The flaming Ferrari-red hair, the British accent, the ambiguously ethnic features: Every alterna-geek was immediately in love with Miki, Especially in Europe where Lush made more of a splash. Sadly, they only lasted a few years and a couple albums before internal tension and a band member's suicide derailed the group. But Lush's music still holds up a decade later ("De-Luxe" is a track on Rock Band 2...Just sayin') and Miki has never relented her position as my all-time "It Girl."

Naturally, no one involved in the conversation that prompted the wave of Miki nostalgia had ever even heard of Miki or Lush. Everyone just kinda looked vacant and quickly moved to the next person.

On an unrelated note, I recently was given the role of determining the Greatest Song Ever. Don't argue, because this thing has come down from up on high. It'd be blasphemous to say God spoke to me, but I just kinda know this is what he wants me to do.

It changes frequently, as I just hear something, usually a song that's well travelled, and suddenly have an epiphany that this is the Greatest Song Ever. It's happened a few times over the past few months.

First it was "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey. Then it was Twisted Sister's hair-metal anthem "I Wanna Rock." Things got a little prog the last couple months as "Carry On Wayward Son" had a go, as did Foreplay/Long Time."

But there was another changing of the guard a couple days ago during yet another boredom-fueled conversation...



"Purple Rain" is clearly the Greatest Song Ever.