January 18, 2008

Dueling Papaws of Rock

I recently bought two CDs:

The one on the left is All the Road Running featuring venerable Papaw of Rock Mark Knopfler, formerly of Dire Straits, with Emmylou Harris. The right hand CD is venerable Papaw of Rock Robert Plant, formerly of a little quartet called Led Zeppelin, singing along with Alison Krauss.

The title of the Plant / Krauss collaboration is "Raising Sand," but I've gotta tell ya, slow as most of these songs are, they should have titled it "Giving Sand Three Benedryls, a Down Comforter and a Hot Water Bottle on Its Feet."

IMO, the voices blend well, but even on the best cuts, of which there are about three, I get the feeling that Plant is there doing self-involved vocal stylings while Krauss is providing all of the emotional weight - and that weight can be measured in milligrams. They seem to be singing past each other as though they never even met to make this album. And maybe they didn't.

"Fortune Teller," "Gone, Gone, Gone," and "Please Read the Letter," are my favorites. All the others are slow as cold molasses and soft as a bunny fluffed with dryer sheets. But there is little to no emotional investment on the part of the singers. They don't care - you don't care. It's music to fall into a coma by.

By contrast All the Road Running is a delight from start to finish. Emmylou Harris has a deeper emotional range than Krauss. And if pipe tobacco could sing, it would sound like Mark Knopfler. His barbed guitar is the perfect counterpoint to his smooth mellow voice. Knopfler and Harris together make you believe and relish every moment of this recording.

Guitar soundscapes remind me of Daniel Lanois and - sometimes - even The Police. The resulting sound is less traditionally country than the sounds on "Raising Sand."

So in this particular duel between Papaws of Rock, I give the title to Mark Knopfler. He comes across as more flexible, more engaged and he's certainly created a much more enjoyable aural experience, for my ears.

Posted by: Chai-Rista at 02:47 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Somebody call Brooke Shields

POPSUGAR has clips of TC accepting some LRH award or another, not to mention a rant on the evils of psychology. Via the incomparable Kathy the Cake-eater whose favorite is the one claiming credit for saving all the firefighters at Ground Zero.

Posted by: LMC at 02:09 PM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Happy Birthday, Archie!

On this day in 1904, Archibald Alec Leach was born. You know him better as Cary Grant. I inherited a love of old films from my mother who would always point out to me her favorites when they aired on broadcast TV (to supplement my steady diet of cable-tv).

Grant was - IMO - one of the very best actors ever to appear on screen. Whether comedy or drama, Grant commanded every scene he was in and made the performances of other actors even better. Contrast this to the...ehem...fella in the post below.

Truly a legend.

Yips! from Robbo: In a truly felicitous coincidence, Netflix sent me a copy of Holiday today. This is my single favorite Grant/Hepburn movie, a delightful little comedy complete with snappy banter and even some acrobatics.

And speaking of such things, here's an interesting little thesis for you: I happen to believe that Will Smith, of all people, is the closest thing going to a modern day Cary Grant. Discuss.

Posted by: Gary at 11:26 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Tom's Scientology Pitch

Supposedly this video of Tom Cruise, hosted at Gawker, is one that the Church of Scientology has desperately tried to suppress. This is the very definition of fanaticism. His maniacal laugh from the middle to the end rivals even that of She Who Must Not Be Named for creepiness.

I find it interesting that so many people in Hollywood are afraid of Christians yet they think these people are fascinating. Ironic, no?

Posted by: Gary at 09:29 AM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 17, 2008

'Nuther Show Of Hands, Please

Who else around here gets a case of the creeps when they hear the expression "Government economic stimulus package"?

Posted by: Robert at 04:15 PM | Comments (19) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Something Up With Our Banter?

We're the top Google/UK search hit for "llama and the kettle".

Must be some kind of Cockney rhyming slang. As in "So me girl an' me left the pub and went up to her flat and it was nuffin' but llama and the kettle for three hours!"

The imagination boggles, dunnit?

Posted by: Robert at 02:52 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Show of Hands, Please

Of all those out there who think "Chip" and the Crack Young Staff over at the Hatemonger's Quarterly have had ample time for backsliding and gold-bricking now and need to get off their collective duffs.

Posted by: Robert at 12:59 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Former TV President Backs Obama

Dennis Haysbert who played President David Palmer on the hit show "24" comes out for Barack Obama and opines that "his character on the FOX hit is at least partly responsible for opening America's mind to a black commander in chief".

Actually, I partially agree with him. Being a big fan of the show myself, I can attest to the fact that Haysbert's performance was so compelling that the fact that he was African-American was irrelevant. Even in the first season, which highlighted the historic implications of his fictional Presidential campaign, the character was never even remotely defined by his race but rather by the leadership qualities he displayed - which made him a fan favorite since day one.

"Face it, Wayne. Even you're no David Palmer."

While President Palmer never really had the opportunity to reveal his political idealogy in general, the character was written as a Democrat. It was his steadfast resolve and conviction in fighting the terrorist enemies that won him his popularity among viewers. (Incidentally, Haysbert himself is a Liberal Democrat who has cited his Presidential influences as Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton.)

On the one hand, if you're inclined to think that race is an issue in choosing a President I suspect it would take more than a popular TV character to open your mind to the idea.

However I also believe that any candidate for President - man or woman, black or white - who demonstrates the qualities of a President David Palmer would be pretty popular with American electorate. Considering his Liberal positions, though, I don't see Obama as that candidate.

h/t: Jonathan Garthwaite at Townhall.com

Posted by: Gary at 10:52 AM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous Crossing the Tiber Posting

The last few weeks of my RCIA class have been taught by a friend of mine (and my sponsor, as a matter of fact). He's a dour sort of fellah to begin with, plus he's a convert of about fifteen years' standing himself, with all the, ah, zeal not at all uncommon to such folk.

For better or worse, he was told off to lecture on the Commandments. And as you might imagine, when he gets going on modern social problems in this context, he sounds like rayther like one of the minor prophets on an extremely cranky morning.

Anyhoo, he was in the middle of the Catechismic teachings on the Third Commandment last evening when I started chuckling to myself because I had suddenly remembered the old Steve Martin routine which runs, as near as memory can make it, something like this:

Wouldn't it be weird if you died and then you woke up and found yourself in Heaven and it was just like they'd always said? With the Pearly Gates? And everybody had wings and everything? Wouldn't you feel like an idiot? "Oh, noooooo!!! You mean-? Awwww!!!!!...... In college, they told us this was all bullshite! Well, I'll just go on in and....What? You mean you've been keeping track? Awwwwwww!!!! Well, look, I wasn't such a bad guy! I mean, for instance how many times did I take the Lord's name in vain? A million six? Jesus Chri-."

That routine is, what, nearly 30 years old now and it still makes me smile. (My apologies to any purists out there if I did not repeat it correctly word for word.)

Anyhoo, I contained myself and avoided a disruption. And you'll be proud to know that I also successfully resisted telling the joke about the Episcopal Church now having four Commandments and six Suggestions.

Speaking of RCIA, thanks to all of you who have dropped notes in the Tasty Bits (TM) Mail Sack asking how it's going. In fact, it's going just fine. I thought at the beginning that I would have more to say, but really the journey has been so very short and - frankly - easy, that I've found this hasn't been the case. This really shouldn't be surprising, I suppose: Coming out of an Orthodox Anglican tradition, I was already about 98% of the way there theologically anyway. The change has been more akin to the optometrist switching from Lens A to Lens B than anything else - same wall chart but much greater clarity. And if I may be permitted to extend the metaphor, being able to read the chart more clearly has allowed me to read it much more deeply and meaningfully, too. The fact of the matter is that the past six months or so have been the, well, happiest and most fulfilling that I can ever remember.

BTW, for those of you keeping up with the Robbo Patron Saint Sweepstakes, I am leaning very heavily toward Augustine and Aquinas, while also keeping St. Cecilia's Day because of my musickal interest. A number of folk seem to think that Thomas More is a good fit, too, but the fact of the matter is that I wish to stear clear of the whole messy business of the English Reformation. Just because I'm leaving the Anglican Church now in its present - perhaps fatal - crisis, I have no desire to go back and savage its entire history. I leave that to other people. Plus, whether he intended it or not, I've always felt that More's introduction of Utopia into the collective conscience has allowed a great many very naughty people to do a great deal of harm over the years.

LOW HANGING FRUIT YIPS from Steve-O: Third Commandment? So what is Benedict's take on the quartering of troops, anyway?

Posted by: Robert at 10:36 AM | Comments (11) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Random Musickal Observation

Regular readers will probably already know that when it comes to musick, my heart is thoroughly in the Baroque. (What does that make me? A Baroquist? A Baroquian? A Nerd?)

This is not to say that I don't like other periods, of course. After all, where would that leave Haydn and Mozart? However, the truth is that most of the time I would much rather listen to a piece of C3 Baroque musick than anything but the best of any other period.

Having said all that, I happened to hear a couple of pieces on the radio this morning - one of Dvorak's Slavonic Dances and the last movement of Tchaikovsky's Fourth Symphony. (Dvorak and Tchaikovsky were almost exact contemporaries, incidentally, born in 1841 and 1840, respectively.) And it occured to me yet again that every time I hear Dvorak's musick I like it more and more, while every time I hear Tchaikovsky's (with the possible exception of some of his ballet musick), I find it all the more tedious.

I throw that out for what it's worth.

UPDATE: Having trouble getting into the comments again, dang it. But following up on JohnL, yes, I definitely need to expand the CD collection in that regard. Speaking of which, I heard a bit of a cello suite last evening by one Georg Mathias Monn, a Viennese composer I'd never heard of who died the same year as Bach (1750). Pleasant and at times interesting, but every now and again a shudder went through the piece that had me scratching my head.

Also, I of course agree with RBJ about 20th Century music as a rule, although I do confess to enjoying certain select bits by Holst, Vaughn Williams and Walton. (With the latter two, it's primarily their treatment of stuff written by other people - like the Tallis Fantasia - or else their English Folk Song settings.) Also, I've recently become more interested in the works of Saint-Saens. Plus I enjoy the snotty things he said about Debussy.

Bear in mind that I'm just talking about what is generally referred to as "Classical" musick here. Certainly, I am very fond of a wide variety of other kinds of musick as well.

Posted by: Robert at 09:46 AM | Comments (21) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

It's the Storm of the Century of the Week!

Run for your lives!

A Winter Weather Advisory remains in effect from 7 am this
morning to midnight EST tonight.

An area of low pressure over the northeastern Gulf of Mexico will
move northeast to near Cape Hatteras by late this afternoon... and
then up the eastern Seaboard tonight. Well ahead of this system
precipitation will spread north from near Fredericksburg early
this morning... to near Baltimore by late morning.

Precipitation is expected to remain snow into the afternoon
hours... before gradually mixing with and changing to rain from
east to west this afternoon. Precipitation will mostly be rain
tonight... but with temperatures hovering near freezing...
particularly west of Interstate 95... some patches of freezing rain
may linger into the evening hours.

An inch or two of snow can be expected along the Interstate 95
corridor today... with 2 to 4 inches possible in the nearby western
suburbs.

I confess that I drank the kool aid this morning and came to work decked out in tweed, corduroy and my ol' Bean boots, the last because my dislike of cold, wet feet grows more intense as I get older.

The punch line? Not a flake so far......

Meanwhile, Mom reports that her little corner of Midcoast Maine has already seen near four feet this year, waaaaay above average. We blame global warming, of course. Or sump'in.

NOONISH UPDATE: Okay, it's coming down nicely now. Very pretty. They say the snow won't last but will turn into sleet or rain later. Since I have to drive home in it, I don't feel too bad about this. Glad I wore my Bean boots after all.

Posted by: Robert at 09:31 AM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Tuesday Morning WTF?

Posted by: Steve-O at 07:37 AM | Comments (13) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

January 16, 2008

Killer still at large!

I kid you not--this evening's 11 p.m. news included a feature on a local Chihuahua knocked off by a redtail hawk. It included interviews with two of the bereaved, stills of the departed, file footage of a redtail, helpful facts such as the hawks are found in all of the lower 48 states, and well as a graphic representation of a raptor in a dive.

The police may not make it there in time to save poor Fifi if you live anywhere near the vast real estate holdings which comprise Fort LMC. Arm yourselves to save your rat-like dog from certain death that will come without warning from the sky.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.

YIPS FROM A FAITHFUL READER: From a Boy Named Sous: When I lived in San Diego, I loved to attend the bird of prey shows at the Wild Animal Park, including the up-close "Hawk Talks" after the whistles-and-bells show. In one of these I learned that Red-tailed Hawks are , which are diving raptors. Once they commit to a dive, they are very unmanouverable, and if their prey sees them and scampers, chances for escape are good -- 90% of the time, a Buteo misses its prey. Owls, on the other hand, swoop in from low altitudes, and 90% of their attacks result in a meal.

And even at 9 to 1 odds, the Chihuahua couldn't beat the spread. Tells ya something, donnit?

Posted by: LMC at 11:22 PM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Is it just me? Or did this week's Noozweek cover look, umm, familiar?

Just saying.

Posted by: Steve-O at 08:23 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Finally, a hobby more stupid and less socially-redeeming than blogging

Dude, I'm at a loss:

Geist's breath fogs the winter air as he surveys the frozen Minneapolis skyline, searching for signs of trouble. His long duster flaps in the breeze as his eyes flick behind reflective sunglasses; a wide-brim hat and green iridescent mask shroud his identity from those who might wish him harm.

Should a villain attack, the Emerald Enforcer carries a small arsenal to defend himself: smoke grenades, pepper spray, a slingshot, and a pair of six-inch fighting sticks tucked into sturdy leather boots. Leather guards protect Geist's arms; his signature weapon, an Argentinean cattle-snare called bolos, hangs from a belt-holster.

A mission awaits and time is of the essence, so Geist eases his solid frame, honed from martial arts training, into his trusty patrol vehicle—a salt-covered beige sedan. Unfamiliar with the transportation tangle of downtown, he pulls a MapQuest printout from his pocket, discovering his goal is but a short cruise down Washington Avenue.

Soon Geist faces his first obstacle: parking on the left side of a one-way street. "Usually one of my superpowers is parallel parking," he chuckles as he eases his car into the spot, emerging victorious with a foot and a half between curb and tire. He feeds a gauntleted fistful of quarters into the parking meter, and then pops the trunk on the Geistmobile to retrieve his precious cargo. On the street, he encounters businesspeople on lunch break—some stare openly; others don't even notice his garish attire. "It's easier in winter," Geist says with a laugh. "Winter in Minnesota, everybody's dressed weird."

Finally, his destination is in sight: People Serving People, a local homeless shelter. Geist strides boldly into the lobby—a cramped, noisy room where kids and adults mill about chatting—and heaves his stuffed paper bags onto the counter. "I have some groceries to donate," he tells Dean, the blond-bearded security guard on duty, whose placid expression suggests superheroes pop in on a regular basis. "And I have an hour on the meter if there's anything I can do to help out."

Wendy Darst, the volunteer coordinator, looks taken aback but gladly puts the superhero to work. Soon the Jade Justice finds himself hip-deep in a supply closet, piling books into a red Radio Flyer wagon. He wheels it back to the lobby, entreating the children to select a text. But the kids seem more interested in peppering him with questions. "So are you a cowboy or something?" one boy asks.

Geist kneels down to reply with a camera-ready grin, "Maybe a super-secret, space-cowboy detective!"

Another kid, awed by the uniform, just stares silently. "Hi," Geist says with a smile, holding out his hand in greeting. "I'm a real-life superhero."

The kid grabs Geist's leather-clad mitt and grins back. "I'm four!"

Such is the life of Minnesota's only superhero—a man in his mid-40s who sold off his comic book collection to fund a dream borne of those very pages. Unlike his fictional inspirations, he hasn't yet found any villains to apprehend in Rochester, a sleepy city of 95,000 about 80 miles south of Minneapolis. But that doesn't mean he's wasting his time, he says. "When you put on this costume and you do something for someone, it's like, 'Wow, I am being a hero,' and that is a great feeling."

BY MOST OBSERVERS' RECKONING, between 150 and 200 real-life superheroes, or "Reals" as some call themselves, operate in the United States, with another 50 or so donning the cowl internationally. These crusaders range in age from 15 to 50 and patrol cities from Indianapolis to Cambridgeshire, England. They create heroic identities with names like Black Arrow, Green Scorpion, and Mr. Silent, and wear bright Superman spandex or black ninja suits. Almost all share two traits in common: a love of comic books and a desire to improve their communities.

I could mention a third trait in common, but that would be cruel.

Two things: first, you know this is going to be worked into an episode of The Office, featuring Dwight as the Scranton Avenger or something. Second, Calvin from Calvin and Hobbes would be what, 31 now? About right for this.

Posted by: Steve-O at 08:12 PM | Comments (17) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Heh

I first read this post by the Irish Elk over at Patum Peperium this morning and I'm still erupting in periodic fits of laughter about it toward the end of the day. That makes it seriously link-worthy, and I invite you to nip on over. (You'll see which bit I thought the funniest because I commented on it.)

Posted by: Robert at 03:55 PM | Comments (15) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous 'Fins Posting

Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the new head coach of the Miami Dolphins, Tony "Soprano" Sparano:

"Didn't I tell ya not ta trow it inta double cov'rage? Ha? Didn't I? S'matter whichoo?"

Okay, it's a lame joke. But I'm sure I'm not the first to make it, nor will I be the last. Also, maybe a little Goodfellah-like enforcement is just what the 'Fins need.

T'anks ta regular reader Mike for da link.

Posted by: Robert at 03:00 PM | Comments (12) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Gratuitous Llama Book Blegging: Listening To Temptation Division

The devil's website just sent this mighty enticing little suggestion to my email inbox:

The Essential Gilbert K. Chesterton Vol. II: Fiction

Ooooooh......

So what do you guys think? On the one hand, I have been preaching the virtues of thrift around Orgle Manor pretty regularly of late. On the other hand, well....we wants it! And after all, my birthday IS a week from Saturday....

UPDATE: One point the book has against it is its cover design. I happen to know that painting. It's The Awakening Conscience by William Holman Hunt, one of the early Pre-Raphaelites. I've never liked it - I consider the colors to be artificial, the line work fussy and the look on the young lady's face positively bovine.

Shallow, I know. But there it is.

UPDATE DEUX: Ai! More temptation! This time it's from the Telegraph, in which David Twiston-Davies reviews A Wodehouse Handbook: The World and Words of P. G. Wodehouse by N.P.T. Murphy:

Driving out the myth that Wodehouse knew the world of great houses only from childhood visits to servants' quarters, Murphy identifies him as the descendant of a soldier at Agincourt, the kinsman of an earl, the nephew of four clergymen.

He shows how Wodehouse's first major creation, the scapegrace Ukridge, was an amalgam of three early friends. While Jeeves's name was taken from a Warwickshire cricketer, his erudition coincided with that of a butler called Robinson who, asked about the sex life of the African spider, explained that she bestowed her favours on her male counterpart then had him for lunch.

As for Lord Emsworth, he seems to be based on the pig-loving 6th Earl of Dartmouth. In traipsing around the Midlands Murphy found the model for Blandings Castle at Sudeley Castle, Gloucestershire, though its grounds are at Weston Park, Shropshire.

Most remarkable, he discovered that the Junior Ganymede club for gentlemen's gentlemen was located in a Mayfair pub now called 'I Am the Running Footman'. Its customers are no longer servants of the big houses nearby. But when the colonel entered another pub off Pall Mall he found it full of clubland's uniformed porters, stewards and waiters who immediately lapsed into silence. He realised his mistake and apologised. As he left, a hall porter held the door and murmured 'Well done, sir - quite right.'

I've already got Murphy's In Search of Blandings, but.....we wants it! We Waaaaants It!!!

Absolve Me, Pater, Quia Peccavi UPDATE: No, I haven't clickied any of the above yet, but I must confess that earlier today I did give in to the temptation - based on David Frum's recommendation - to pick up Ancient Rome on Five Denarii a Day by Philip Matyszak.

At the time, I rationalized to myself that it would be educational for the Llama-ettes. But of course that's not really why I bought it.

Mea culpa!

Posted by: Robert at 12:34 PM | Comments (18) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Bozophobia

I was all set to get right behind this report:

LONDON (Reuters) - Bad news for Coco and Blinko -- children don't like clowns and even older kids are scared of them.

The news that will no doubt have clowns shedding tears was revealed in a poll of youngsters by researchers from the University of Sheffield who were examining how to improve the decor of hospital children's wards.

The study, reported in the Nursing Standard magazine, found all the 250 patients aged between four and 16 they quizzed disliked the use of clowns, with even the older ones finding them scary.

"As adults we make assumptions about what works for children," said Penny Curtis, a senior lecturer in research at the university.

"We found that clowns are universally disliked by children. Some found them quite frightening and unknowable."

Ban clowns? Great! However, as you can see, the reasoning behind this seems to be because researchers have found them to be "scary" or "frightening".

This is all wrong. How the hell do we expect future generations to fight off the Islamofascists or a resurgent Red Tide or space aliens if they can't face up to a little grease-paint and a few silly balloon shapes?

Clowns shouldn't be banned because they are (to use the buzzword of the article) "unknowable". No, instead they should be banned because they are overly cheerful, a trait which, when encountered by Robbo, inevitably fills me with the urge to hunt about for a brick.

I still remember vividly the end-of-school party we had at St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method one year. The party was outside, the temperature dancing near triple digits and the humidity well up into the 60's. In short, a miserable afternoon for frolicking outside the cool, protective embrace of the HVAC system.

Anyhoo, after a couple hours of beastly weather, blairing oldies and disco musick, mobs of smelly, sticky-fingered kids and interminable games of resume quick-draw with their parents, I found myself beside a clown, a middle-aged woman who had been hired for the afternoon to do face-painting and balloon-sculptures. She was decked out in the full clown monty - silly suit, flappy shoes, heavy make-up and wig - the Works.

By way of being pleasant, I said something like, "Warm work!"

"Oh," she replied, "It's not so bad."

"No, really," I said, "I admire your ability to carry off all that paint and polyestre clothing on a day like this and look happy about it! I certainly couldn't do that."

"Oh," she answered, "I just don't even notice the heat. I'm too busy making the kids smile."

And she smiled.

I blinked, somewhat aghast.

We talked for a couple more minutes, self trying various tacks to get her to come clean, she maintaining her original position. And smiling. And smiling. She wouldn't stop smiling, Dave!

It was at that point, nearly delirious from the heat and humidity myself, that I started scanning around for a brick. Confess! I wanted to shout. You're hot as hell! You're sweating gallons inside that suit! You're not enjoying yourself! You'd much rather be out of that rig with your feet up somewhere, knocking back a cold one! Confess! CONFESS!!!!!

Well, I didn't do it, of course. Instead, I just made my way off to try and find some shade and water. But the memory of that uber-cheerfulness has stuck with me. I never liked clowns to begin with. But this refusal to break - even in the most awful of conditions - was what finally put me over the edge.

I hate clowns.

Posted by: Robert at 12:01 PM | Comments (16) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

Geek update

Source of anti-matter discovered.

Posted by: LMC at 11:15 AM | Comments (15) | Add Comment | Trackbacks (Suck)

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