motherbox

The Moment

2009-06-07T13:55:00.003-04:00

Grad

2009-06-07T13:51:00.000-04:00

Prom

2009-06-07T13:47:00.000-04:00

He cleans up pretty good

2009-05-25T14:05:00.001-04:00

Sunset Two

2009-05-01T19:50:00.002-04:00

sunset one

2009-05-01T19:46:00.000-04:00

Monroeville Mall Pics

2009-04-08T20:03:00.001-04:00

The one zombie painting is part of a very large mural that apparently shows the history of the Monroeville...its the only direct reference I could find to the movie in the mall. Oh yes and one fat zombie.

A Trip to Grover's Mill New jersey

2009-02-28T16:47:00.002-05:00

First photo is of a small water tower that is hidden away behind the Grover's Mill Company Store - on October 30, 1938, this water tower was mistaken for a Martian Tripod and locals fired at it. It is apparently the same water tower that was there that night seventy years ago.

Conowingo Dam and Environs

2009-01-18T20:33:00.005-05:00

Andy Samberg is a genius as of NOW

2008-06-02T17:07:00.000-04:00

2008-05-16T10:29:00.000-04:00

A Place to Bury Strangers

2008-04-27T16:13:00.001-04:00

Billed often as "New York's loudest band", heres an elegiac, ethereal-sounding song from their eponymous album - what I like about the video is that it captures that 70's dystopia look you see in Charlton Heston movies and such from the period. Its a bit long but worth the effort - thanks to Pitchfork.tv.

Dystopia Makes Me Smile

2008-04-24T17:45:00.003-04:00

Apparently the demon children of Unca Walt built this hotel at Disney World some time ago and it has never been occupied. I love stuff like this - modern ruins. Here's three minutes of lonely creepiness, courtesy of Boing Boing.

I dont know what the hell this is, but I like it.

2008-04-18T18:13:00.001-04:00

Laurie Anderson Is One Of the Five or Seven Coolest People On Earth. Here are a few reasons why:

2008-04-13T19:07:00.003-04:00

Episodes 1,2,3 in 1 Picture

2008-04-12T07:00:00.000-04:00

see more crazy cat pics

Stephen Colbert Was Right

2008-04-11T21:53:00.002-04:00

Star Wars is everywhere. Star Wars is everything. Star Wars is everybody. Star Wars is Everything.

The world changed for me forever the night we saw Star Wars the first time. Nothing has ever been the same. I'm watching the so-called "A New Hope" on Spike right now and I feel like I could cry. It is one of the great moments, frankly, in the history of mankind. Landing on the Moon, and the premiere of Star Wars happened in my lifetime. Beautiful.

Luxury

2008-04-10T19:52:00.001-04:00

Utter brilliance, pre-Python. John Cleese, Marty Feldman, Graham Chapman, and Tim Brooke-Taylor, from "At Last The 1948 Show". Stay with it. Kids today have no idea.

Bikini Samurai Girls Vs. Zombies

2008-04-09T21:49:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of Twitchfilm.net

Great Moments With Mr. Murderface: 1

2008-04-09T21:23:00.000-04:00

What I Did Last Year:1

2008-04-08T20:31:00.002-04:00

While the Mole was not blogging, he was rocking. This was one of the great shows of my life - Jack and Meg at the relatively small (1200 seat?) Grand Opera House in beautiful downtown Wilmington Delaware. The Stripes were touring places they had never toured before and it was a sight to behold - just to give you some perspective, a few nights previous they had played Madison Square Garden in front of something like 12,000 people. Here we felt like we could reach out and touch them.

They rocked. They produced more beautiful noise than bands of five or ten. While the sound here isnt the best its a great view of awesome Jack and his beautiful Sister Meg. Peace.

Fear and Loathing with Nostradamus

2008-04-01T17:47:00.003-04:00

I have been reading Hunter Thompson's book "Hey Rube", a collection of the columns he wrote for ESPN.com in 2000 - 2003 or so. I found it cheap on the bargain table somewhere, and while I could care less about the sports aspect of the book, I love HST's style and humor. I certainly miss Raoul Duke and if there was ever a presidential campaign that needed him, its this one.

I read also somewhere or the other that there is now a conspiracy theory making the rounds that HST did not commit suicide but was murdered because he was about to go public with the information that what really destroyed the Twin Towers back on 9/11 was not the planes but explosives in the towers set in place by the US government. I read this at almost the same time I read Hunter's column in Hey Rube that he wrote on 9/12/01, just hours after the event.

While I dont believe the government set the bombs, I was struck by how Hunter's column predicted what would happen as a result of 9/11. He really laid it all out, Nostradamus-wise, and reading it in light of the conspiracy talk ran a slight shiver up my spine.

Without further ado, here's an excerpt:

"The towers are gone now, reduced to bloody rubble, along with all hopes for Peace in Our Time, in the U.S. or any other country. Make no mistake about it: we are At War now - with somebody- and we will stay At War with that strange and mysterious Enemy for the rest of our lives.

"It will be a Religious War, a sort of Christian Jihad,fueled by religious hatred and led by merciless fanatics on both sides. It will be a guerrilla warfare on a global scale, with no front lines and no identifiable enemy. Osama bin Laden will be a primitive "figurehead"- or even dead, for all we know- but whoever put those all-American jet planes loaded with all-American fuel into the 110-story-high Twin Towers and the Pentagon did it with chilling precision and accuracy. The second one was a dead-on bull's-eye. Straight into the middle of the skyscraper....

"...We are going to punish somebody for this attack but just who or where will be blown to smithereens for it is hard to say. Maybe Afghanistan, maybe Pakistan or Iraq, or possible all three at once. Who knows? Not even the Generals in what remains of the Pentagon or the New York papers calling for war seem to know who did it or where to look for them.

"This is going to be a very expensive war, and Victory is not guaranteed-for anyone, and certainly not for a baffled little creep like George W. Bush. All he knows is that his father started a war a long time ago, and that he, the goofy child-President, has been chosen by Fate and the global Oil Industry to finish it off. He can declare a National Security Emergency and clamp
down Hard on Everybody, no matter where they live or why. If the guilty won'y hold up their hands and confess, he and the Generals will ferret them out by force."

California Is Hell

2008-03-30T18:43:00.006-04:00

Well, okay maybe not hell per se (I mean, the Mole was born there, f'rgoshsakes) but what with the fires, earthquakes, windstorms, and other wrath of god type stuff its a little hard not to believe it. Still, I did spend a very pleasant week in San Diego last week (thanks to The Job) and saw only the above evidence of my stated hypothesis.

And now, Ron Burgundy explains the name "San Diego":

Somebody Asked Me What Evil Is

2008-03-30T18:32:00.003-04:00

I will let Keith Olberman explain it to you (hang on through the beginning part):

Inducted

2007-01-09T18:47:00.000-05:00

Well, the new Rock and Roll Hall of Fame inductees were announced, and for once I really cant complain about them - a pretty decent bunch, all meritorious in their service of the Teenage God of Rock (as Bernie Taupin once put it). I had my misgivings about Van Halen but they really did launch a thousand metal(ish) ships over the years and I do love many of their works...so we'll give them a pass on any of my own personal qualms. Though I do still ask, if Van Halen, why not then Kiss? And if Kiss, why not Rush? Those are my major questions of the Rock Hall.

R.E.M, certainly a no-brainer. The band that practically invented all things "indie" and made college rock an actual category. While they have done almost nothing of note in nearly a decade or more, their achievements up through, say, Document are legendary and almost flawless and their work up through, say, Automatic for the People or Monster is outstanding. After that, well....but Murmur, Reckoning, Fables, Lifes Rich Pageant, even Dead Letter Office are indicative of a truly powerful and original collective voice at work and will forever be among the Mole's favorites.

And The Ronettes are sorely overdue for inclusion, leaving hope for other groups that have been left in the dust in the past - perhaps later and more inclusing Rock Hall boards will be kinder as time goes on. The Ronettes are one of those great girl groups that sound like one voice singing three voices OR vice versa all at once. While they had a long wait, thankfully Patti Smith and Grandmaster Flash did not - both highly deserving and certainly an indication that Punk and Rap will continue to get their due in the hall.

Finally, Van Halen. First of all, I'll be interested to see who all shows up for the ceremony; I heard a rumor through my teenage son that Edward VH has fired Michael Anthony and installed his son Wolfgang in the bassist slot, whilst trying to get David Lee back in the fold once again. But whither Mr. Hagar? Assuming any of the above is true, it will be an interesting reunion on the night of the show.

I'm looking for that Jam session - unlikely partners, big egos, disparate styles. But thats what Rock and Roll is all about, boyee. Peace out.

Anybody else notice...

2007-01-03T20:49:00.000-05:00

....that leftover hippies from the '60's are now starting to sound as hidebound and boring as the old guys they were rebelling against? All their stories about tripping and rebellion sound like the stories their own fathers told them about what they did in the war. Give it a rest, bro. Give peace a chance. Timothy Leary, Hunter Thompson, Lenny Bruce, and most of the other people that made the '60's interesting are now dead. It's never too late to get a life.

...that Battlestar:Galactica (the new version) isn't really, uhm, all that interesting? I find it tedious, and the real find on the Sci Fi channel is the new Dr. Who with some of the best writing, acting, and special effects on TV. David Tennant makes a fabulous Doctor (and Christopher Eccleston before him in season one) and I cant wait for season three. If I want Galactica, I want Lorne Greene and Richard Hatch. Nothing else suffices.

...that unclogging a bathtub is a real pain in the neck? I poured two bottles of Drano Extra Mega Super Nuclear Formula One Million down my drain and still STILL had standing water. My landlord has now informed the Mole that Drano is BAD. They came and snaked that puppy and now I have my tub back. But it took weeks. Yes, it is true, the cause was probably the Mole's voluminous hair, but still gross and disgusting. I will attempt to keep the drain clean going forward.

Peace in our time. Live long and prosper. He thrusts his fists against the posts and still insists he sees the ghost. Nite nite.

The smell of hospitals in winter, and the feeling that it's all a lot of oysters, but no pearls.

2007-01-02T19:51:00.000-05:00

I have a list of things here to my immediate left (that would be your right) that I could be writing about - reviews of things, media stuff I could wax slightly poetic about. But none of them seem terribly inspiring right now. Plus, I've had a glass of wine and I'm listening to a slightly melancholic mixtape I made for a friend of mine - one that includes the Cure, and the Decemberists, and "Here Comes The Flood" by Peter Gabriel, maybe the saddest sounding song ever recorded. It includes "Long December", the song that contains the lyrics at the top of this post - a song by Counting Crows that is just about the most perfect song about melancholy ever recorded.

In short, it's a tape for "the deep midwinter" as the old carol goes, when the days are short and the nights are somehow darker than normal. There's something akin to a full moon tonight, and I sit in my tiny darkened office involuntarily ruminating on the year that ended about 48 hours ago.

It was a weird year, and it ended weird - CNN was truly surreal in the last days of ought-6 (is that like a 30-ought-6?), with overlapping celebrity deaths - the pomp and solemnity of Gerald Ford, the boisterous gospel party of James Brown, the ugly, brutal hanging of the ugly, brutal Saddam Hussein. For all the death, it seemed an appropriate end to an especially troubling year, both on a national scale and a personal one, for the Mole. A year that included more legal activity than I had known in the previous 39 years; a year that was full of heart palpitations and fear and loathing and outright hatred. At the end of 2006 I have a doctor, a lawyer, and a therapist. If you have those three figures in your life you are both cursed and blessed - cursed that you need them, blessed that they are there.

I am older, this year - and that isn't just about turning 40 - its about learning, and experience, and pain, and disappointment. As ugly and vulgar as the last few years have been, this one seemed to contain the most body blows, the most eye-opening, awakening kinds of moments. I feel 40 years old, whereas when I was 39 I think I still felt about 30. In the course of one year I aged ten.

At the same time, I have found more true hope and peace in the last year than I ever have before - rediscovered the path I was on before I took a major detour about 16 years ago. As old as I feel, I also dont want to waste a minute of what's next, because I have much to make up for. Turning 40 still involves music, and comic books, and creativity, and friends, and love. But its all very different now, in ways that I cant put my finger on. But some nights, when all the cares that belong to me sit heavy 'pon my brow, it all still feels the way that line does up there, that beautiful couplet that says so much. It feels like a shock of recognition.

A later line in that song says "It's been a long December, and there's reason to believe that maybe this year will be better than the last." That's what hope feels like to me - maybe this year will be a little better than the last one - that's about all I can manage and still be honest. So here's to all of you three or four people who might read this little tome - here's hoping this year will be better than last year. Or even maybe a little better than that.

Hey Kids! New Links!

2007-01-01T17:17:00.000-05:00

Over there on the right (my left, your right) you see my lengthy list of links to various worthwhile websites, all of which will thankfully open in a new window so that you can easily find your way back here to the merry, madcap, moribund Motherbox (is Stan Lee in here?). In my New Year Effort to revitalize the ol' MB I added and subtracted from the list and I thought a few explanations might be in order...so here's some quick one-liners on a few:

Beaucoup Kevin - is the blog of comic writer and critic Kevin Church; I find him always entertaining and his posts and links very worthwhile. A Kirby fan to boot.

Hyaena Gallery - Earlier this year, the Hyaena Gallery hosted an exhibit of artwork done by artist Michael Kelleher which were exact reproductions of early Marvel covers to be used in their high-end "Marvel Masterworks" reprint hardcovers. These were covers for which the originals were too damaged to be reproduced from the originals, so Mr. K reproduced them as original comic art so they would look close to the originals. The show, hosted in November, was a benefit for the HERO Intiative, a cause that raises money for the needs of older comic creators who often worked without benefits or pensions and need the help for medical, living, and other needs. Well, my 40th birthday present to myself was to buy Mr. K's reproduction of Jack Kirby's 1959 cover to Tales of Suspense #4, (that link takes you the original cover, not my piece) probably the closest I will ever get to owning an actual piece of original Kirby art as their prices continue to spiral into the thousands of dollars per page. I will write more about the whole original art thing in the future but Hyaena does some interesting things in their gallery shows so you might want to check it out.

The Original Comic Art Section - As I said, more about this soon, but these are four vendors that I peruse regularly, and dream and drool.

Mastodon - the current standard bearers of the heavy metal scene, these guys to me sound like a really good progressive jazz band, only playing really fast and really loud metal. Something like that. Their current album, "Blood Mountain" continues to intrigue, and I am looking forward at some point to picking up their album "Leviathan", a metal album based on Moby Dick. As Uncle Duke once said to Zonker Harris, "Their music will sterilize frogs at 50 yards." Thats a compliment.

JBox - A friend of mine let me know about this: this guy sells all things Japanese pop culture, from Miyazaki related stuff to CD's to books to clothes. Direct from Japan! There is also a sister site, J-List, the primary difference of which is that J-List includes porn. JBox is safe for family viewing - Hello Kitty! items notwithstanding. You will be amazed at what you can get for your favority kaiju junkie or harajuku girl.

There are more, but that's a start. I will be focusing on other sites in upcoming posts. Enjoy your January 2 and we'll talk soon.....

Captain's Log, Supplemental: See? 2007 is better already....

2007-01-01T11:50:00.000-05:00

New Indiana Jones movie to film in '07! -- via CNN

The quote about it being a "character piece" makes me a tad nervous, but at least Lucas isn't writing or directing....

Great Comic Book Covers #1: Nextwave #11

2007-01-01T10:02:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year! Already 2007 feels like the downy fuzz of a newborn chick. Or something. Anyway - a new feature here on the 'box - comic book covers old and new, the finest of the lot, in yours truly's humble opinion, for your dining and dancing pleasure. Unfortunately I cant seem to get blogger to upload my images this morning and I am rapidly running out of patience - so here is a link to the cover I would have loaded here, courtesy of www.warrenellis.com:

http://www.warrenellis.com/?p=3037

Nextwave: Agents of Hate is one of the weirdest comic books ever produced by one of the "big two" comic book companies - Marvel and DC - therefore as you might expect, it is about to end. Basically, five B-list Marvel characters were put in the hands of prolific comic mad genius Warren Ellis and this what came out - five heroes hired by an international conglomerate to fight terrorism, only to discover that the company itself was the terrorist. Breaking away, they are hunted by their former employer's lead wacko, a cross-dressing, suicidal (and in this issue, undead) loony named Dirk Anger. And that's a very thin summary of the story....

This cover relates, of course, to the current Civil War stories occupying the rest of the Marvel Universe, in which the A-list heroes (Captain America, Spider-man, etc.) are lining up on opposite sides of a new Federal superhero registration law. Nextwave has had nothing whatsoever to do with that plot line, which is selling in the bajillions. Nextwave as a series is also ending with the next issue, so obviously they have nothing to lose by openly mocking the sober and serious tone of Civil War (and the distinctive cover design of CW-related comic books) with this gem. (In relation to the above cover, Mark Millar is the writer for Civil War. I hope he is Warren Ellis's friend).

If you are a fan of clever comic book art, I would suggest you pick up this particular issue of Nextwave for the completely over-the-top designs of artist Stuart Immonen. Part of the reason Nextwave is ending is that Immonen has been assigned to take over Ultimate Spider-man soon and can't do both - Ellis doesn't want to continue without him, and for that I am grateful. There are a number of two-page spreads showing the Nextwave team in battle with the bizarre creations of the Beyond Corporation, including giant Wolverine-costumed monkeys, Modok units that look like Elvis and fire hamburgers at our heroes, and a giant purple brachiosaurus that shoots Cyclops-style eyebeams. And so much more. You really have to see it to believe it - any one of those pages could be posters. And hilarious.

As far as how I got into Nextwave, well, as you might expect, there's a Kirby connection. One of the team is Aaron Stack, occasionally known as Machine Man, created by Jack Kirby in 2001: A Space Odyssey #8 about 30 years ago. Here, he is a snarky, irritating comedy relief, annoyed by the "fleshy" foibles of regular humans. Apparently Immonen and Ellis will continue the Nextwave saga in future mini-series and such as time permits, and I for one will be awaiting with open arms.

They are producing trade paperbacks of the series, so if you've missed issues up to this point, you can still catch up.

Next up: New links on the sidebar!

Sex With Monkeys

2006-12-31T17:54:00.000-05:00

That headline is primarily just to get your attention; maybe it will draw some perverse souls plugging bizarre search terms into Google on this fine New Year's Eve - if there's anybody like that in the crowd, know now that I have no pictures of or stories about sex with monkeys. It's a cruel joke and you need help. Call 1-800-Ape-Lovr.

Yes, it has been eons since the Motherbox was updated. I toyed with the idea of a new blog, but why? It was largely a symbolic idea and ultimately doomed to failure. This has been a strange year for the Mole: amidst medical and legal issues, such things as blogs seemed cumbersome at times, primarily from the notion that few if any were reading. But now, with a new year beginning, I thought I would again give it a try. While the world is still an ugly, violent place full of deviants (who probably have had sex with monkeys), there are signs of hope hyar and thar, as Eric Cartman says. The Democrats taking back the Congress (come on Senator Johnson!!!!) and only two years till evil pseudo-president "Shrub" Bushmeister is ousted from his comfy chair.

Watching the proceedings surrounding Gerald Ford's funeral, I am struck by the number of times people almost wistfully talk about Mr. Ford's gentlemanliness, his willingness to compromise, his moderation, his sense of fair play and getting the job done. A guy who never wanted to be President, he wanted to be speaker of the house. I think one of the rules for being president should be that you never wanted to be president. Vote for the person who seems most qualified and least interested, instead of the other way around. What a wonderful world it would be.

So, anyway, the Mole will come back out into the light, and give it a shot. Wake up the old Motherbox and give her a run around the park. My goal is to post daily, if not more often, and make this a compendium of the many things that catch my easily distracted interest. Occasionally I'll rant, but thats what the blogosphere is for, right?

Anywho. Peace in our time. And if anybody has any good ideas for unclogging a tub drain that dont involve a plumber, nows the time to speak up.

I Wished I'd'a Thoughta That Dept., or.....

2006-07-10T17:43:00.000-04:00

Supplemental Edition

Over at the Jack Kirby Blog, now connected to the website of the Kirby Museum (links to your right), is the blogger's very inventive use of modern technology to create himself an actual functioning motherbox, like your favorite 4th Worlder got at birth! The link to the posting is here: http://kirbymuseum.org/blogs/kirby/archives/852 -- but do come back.

This is a good time for Kirby fans. Lots of interesting reimaginings of classic Kirby Concepts. Of course there is the aforementioned Gaiman/Romita Eternals at Marvel, but over at DC there's the new OMAC series (where there is, finally, just one One Man Army Corps) - first issue of which came out last week. Havent had a chance to peruse yet but will review, and may do so alongside the first issue of Marvel's new Kirby-based mag, Galactic Bounty Hunters, which is being put together by the King's daughter, Lisa, and erstwhile Kirby partner Greg Thibodeaux. GBH will include some Kirby art and previously unused concepts and looks to be fun. First ish of that is out next week as well.

And with all the hinting going on that something related to the Fourth World is in the works (note the New Gods redesigned selves in the recent Mister Miracle/7 Soldiers mini) this could be a very good year for fans of ol'Jack....would that he were still here to see the outpouring...who knows, maybe he is.

...And Only Nixon Gets His Name On The Moon

2006-07-07T06:04:00.000-04:00

"It'll be like the LA riots, the Oklahoma bombing, WWII, Vietnam, Duke and Doom all mixed together. ... I want to leave a lasting impression on the world," he wrote.

--CNN.com, quoting Columbine shooter Eric Harris in recently released documents.

My son will be 16 in October, which is astounding to me on any number of levels; he will be a sophomore in high school. Currently, he sports the longish bangs and occasional eyeliner of the emo / goth world of music, which bothers me not at all. A lot of the bands he listens to talk about death a lot and in a way that makes you think Death is a really hot girl who dumped them. This, too, bothers me not at all. He plays video games like Resident Evil, which allow you to blow up evil monsters or something (I've never quite grasped the storyline but that may not be the point.) He and I share a penchant for zombie movies, which of course largely consist of people trying to keep from being eaten by other people.

None of these things bother me, at least at present. Why? Because I know my son, at least I believe I do, and while he has had his struggles with grades and life in general I do not get a sense of need for actual destruction from him. Rock and roll and zombies and Resident Evil give him respite from stress, a virtual opportunity to kick butt and blow things up. Klebold and Harris did these sorts of things, too, but they crossed a line that I think the vast majority of kids will not; something in their wiring allowed them to step into that other world.

This is not to say that I naively or blindly think my son could not make bad decisions in this realm; if anything Columbine should have taught every parent in the United States that apathy is not an option. Children (and this includes everybody under 18 years of age and a good portion of people somewhat older than that) should been seen and heard, whether they want to be or not; they should be observed and questioned and challenged. Changes in mood should be noted and addressed. Granted, Ye Mole does this from a bit of a distance these days, but that doesnt make it any less important to me.

But Eric Harris's quote up there gnaws at me, a bit - as an adolescent, in my private thoughts, and even now as a nearly 40-year-old fat guy with long hair, I thought about what could anybody really do to make a lasting impression on the world? How does one make a mark that reverberates down through the ages? I used to imagine a story about a kid whose answer to that question is to use black magic to raise an enormous obelisk out of the earth that blots out the sun and changes the world's orbit forever. There, he says, I have made a change that will last a million years. But then everybody dies as a result and there's nobody to see or remember his change.

In a thousand years, I would guess only two or three people famous from this era will be familiar to the majority of people - Neil Armstrong, perhaps, and justly so; Adolf Hitler; Einstein; Gandhi. The other ten billion of us will be part of great cultural shifts and trends that historians and sociologists will interpret and our artifacts will be anonymously kept in museums. So, how then do we live?

In a world where God is generally seen as an oppressive dictator who wishes you to have no fun or a big guy who lives upstairs that gives Grammys to rap artists, where fame is measured in minutes and seconds, where 10 billion people struggle to find someplace to stand and then, standing, to get rich as quickly as possible, where everybody can be a "published" writer just by turning to www.blogger.com and starting to write -- what do we have to offer our children that can honestly make them feel that they are doing something with their lives that will reverberate through time in a positive way. Ultimately this planet and everything on it will be reduced to dust; ultimately everything we do (and I will not start quoting Dust in the Wind here, I promise) will go away. How can we give an answer that doesnt involve saying "Just be a nice person and after you die you will go to heaven"? How can we say "what you do today has meaning for the rest of your life" that doesnt necessarily involve people making lots of money? And how do we find the Harrises and Klebolds of the world before they have a chance to get their fame through destruction?

I am certain of only one thing, and that is I dont know the answers to those questions.

A Simple Desultory Phillipic

2006-07-06T18:29:00.000-04:00

I have been a poor correspondent, of late: despite my best intentions of again filling this space with my humble opines and thoughts I have lagged well behind whilst other bloggers post madly and without end. But life intrudes.

The Mole, such as he is, is not one made for riotous living. As with Moley of The Wind in the Willows, or better, as with Mr. Underhill of Bag End - adventures may be fine but they do make one late for dinner. They also make it difficult to gather ones thoughts in a coherent way.

Let me be clear: I am not against adventure and there is something worthwhile in it. I believe I am having one now - but I do think we forget that those heroes we love who go on adventures are often getting the ever loving snot kicked out of them on our virtual behalf - Frodo and Sam; Odysseus; Thomas Covenant; Indiana Jones; Hellboy, even. It is not easy or fun to actually be heroic, we learn. That is why we generally let the actor or the character do it for us. For every moment glorying in Lothlorien we must spend hours slogging through Moria, pursued by Orcs and Balrogs. Superheroes beat up and are beaten up. But we dont have to do it - they do it for us.

The adventure I am having has glories like the Atlantic Ocean sparkling on a summer day, and Wagnerian thunderstorms and the comfort of good friends and a glass of wine or a game of cribbage; but it also includes attorneys and seperation from children and expensive traffic tickets and feear of the unknown and uncertainty and sleeplessness and tears and confusion etc. etc. It does not feel heroic, and were our imagined heroes real they would probably be glad to change their plight for some R&R. Or maybe not, because they would then shirk a duty they feel sworn to. But I cannot believe it is necessarily fun to be a true hero.

I cannot believe it is already July. I cannot believe the swiftness of things these days. I am growing tired of this adventure and hope it comes to some kind of conclusion soon so we can move on to the next one. I have not lost hope but the tiredness, when it descends, descends swiftly.

The Mole begs for and thanks you for your indulgence. Pox vobsicum.

Boo(m) T(u)bes

2006-06-28T17:14:00.000-04:00

I've added a few links over there to the left - sorry, your right, my left - for the betterment of mankind. Under comics is a link to the very good and getting better Newsarama blog, which is a companion piece to the exceptional comic book news source that you will occasionally find the Mole expounding within (you'll know when by the resounding silence from fellow posters). Under the music category is one apparently everybody but me knew about, which is the music review-and-news site Pitchfork which is also apparently becoming the critical knees of the bee, as twere. And finally, down under the ....whatever category, there is What What, which is apparently a couple of Brits who are hawking their unique graphic design wares and want you to look at the cool stuff theyve done. Especially check out the "Whatever" section of their website (how appropriate!!)

Dress warm. Write if you get work.

Intelligent Design: The Return of the Eternals

2006-06-27T17:37:00.000-04:00

(Morning, early) I am or would like to think of myself as Eternals Fan Numero Uno - as a Kirbyist acolyte, I have studied and restudied the original 20-issue series (19 regular and 1 annual) from the '70's where the King laid out his reality of giant Celestials coming to earth and creating various strains of humanity, some beautiful, powerful and godlike (eternals), some grotesque, bizzarre and evil (deviants). It was one of those comics that I fell in love with from one issue on the comic rack and then proceeded to complete the set at comic shops and be upset when Marvel cancelled it. No matter, it is still maybe my single favorite comics series of all time; cosmic, weird, funky, all over the place, I am convinced it was way way way ahead of its time, as Kirby was in most things.

Many attempts were made to conform the Eternals to the Marvel Universe and usually they ended up looking like just another batch of gods or godlike beings (ala the Inhumans). Sersi was an Avenger for awhile; Thanos and Starfox turned out to be Eternals, etc. There were a few attempts, most notably the 12-issue miniseries of some years back, but for the most part they werent terribly good and never measured up to the level of the originals (which by the way are available for your viewing pleasure this week in a new hardcover from Marvel - you may wish to check it out at Amazon.com or some such.)

Now, the concept has arisen again, and Marvel has put it in the hands of two comics superstars to once and for all find a way to incorporate this particular batch of superbeings into the Universe. Neil Gaiman and John Romita, Jr., have taken on King Kirby's Koncept and ever since they announced this project months ago I have been nervously awaiting the first issue to see if they screw it up. In terms of visuals I havent been as concerned because a few years back JRJr. did a one-shot during the Amalgam period (where DC and Marvel concepts were "mashed up" as it were to create new hybrids) called Thorion of the New Asgods which mixed up the New Gods, Thor, and a dash of Eternals, and managed to capture some of the grandeur and scope that Kirby produced on a daily basis. No, it was what Mr. Gaiman might do - famously, he took the classic DC character Sandman and dumped everything but the name, but in the process created a new classic and helped set new standards - that worried me.

Thankfully, at least based on the first issue of the Eternals, my fears are unfounded. Basically, the core Eternals, Ikaris, Makarri, Thena, Sersi, and others, appear to have been stripped of their memory of being Eternals and are living various lives where the powers they dont even realize they have seem to manifest themselves on occasion. Ike Harris visits medical resident Mark Curry (compare to previous names) and says he has memories of 500,000 years ago and of the genetic tinkering the Celestials did with proto-humans way back when to create the divergent species. He remembers much, up until the Celestials' most recent return about 30 years ago, which would be the events accounted for in the original Kirby book. After that, well, it all gets fuzzy. Of course, Mark thinks Ike is a wacko, even after he sees Ike walk in midair away from his apartment window. And we're off.

They pack a lot of story into this first issue; there are also brief subplots that highlight Sersi and Thena and this definitely ties into the Marvel Universe - a brief vignette deals with the need for the superpowered to register with the government (see Civil War) - and by gumbo if it aint a lot of fun. The only other creator I could have seen taking the Eternals and revitalizing them would be Walt Simonson, who did that very kind of update recently in his brilliant Orion series for DC. I would definitely recommend you get down to your comic shop (if in Delaware, please go to The Comic Book Shop on Marsh Road, see link at your right) to beg for a copy.

A couple of other brief recommendations: Despite my misgivings, the first two issues of Civil War are really entertaining, remarkable comic books and worthy of the press hype they've been getting. Also, Fantastic Four #537, featuring the return (yayayayayayayay) of Dr. Doom and Thor's hammer, respectively, is a heckuva lot of fun. And Planet Hulk continues to be terrific....once again, it appears to be the Marvel Age of Comics!!!!

Roger and out, good buddy.

Postscript - (same day, later): http://www.newsarama.com/marvelnew/Eternals/GaimanEternals.html
Newsarama did a great and exhaustive series on the previous history of the Eternals in the MU; at the end of the above interview with writer Neil Gaiman are links to those multiple articles if you are so inclined. Its a lot of reading - why not open a nice cold beverage?

Strap on the ol' mail bag!

2006-06-25T13:41:00.000-04:00

The Mole was pleased today to see the following in the mailbag -

Hi,

I don't normally leave comments on blogs but was surfing for commment on Pink Floyd "The Final Cut" and I don't think I've come across such an astute and resonating assesment.

Duncan Hart

Well, them sure are kind words Mr. Hart, and my immediate reaction was - what the hell is he talking about? Surely he must be mistaking me for another blog....but I searched back and yes, there it was, my thoughts on The Final Cut. Well, D, I'm glad you liked them, and I hope you'll check back again for further music notes among various and sundry other things.

And if you're interested, here's a link to the post....
http://motherbox.blogspot.com/2005/11/post-100-if-im-in-ill-tell-you-whats.html

The Mole has a busy weekend and will get back on the horse Monday. Best you and yours.

You Gonna Make Me Cry

2006-06-23T06:22:00.000-04:00

The most unfortunate thing about Curtis Salgado is that he will forever be remembered as the guy that inspired John Belushi to create the Blues Brothers (read: Belushi stole his act.) But I shouldnt grouse; Curtis has a whole section on his website about the Belushi connection and if the Man Himself is not bothered by it, why should I be?

The best thing about Curtis is that I have had the chance to see him play live in tiny little clubs and large venues, I would estimate 30 or 40 times. Not for about 17 years and certainly since the Mole replanted hisself in the Mid-Atlantic, but it is because of that I can say that Curtis is the greatest vocalist in America that you probably have never heard. He is a blues singer, a harmonica genius, and a guy that other musicians want to work with; his first big band was with Robert Cray, he's fronted bands for Steve Miller and Carlos Santana, he was part of Roomful of Blues, and he has several albums, both with his first band, the Stillettos, and with his current lineup. If you go on his website, you will see pix of him playing with Bonnie Raitt, Stevie Ray and Jimmy Vaughn, Carlos Santana, Buddy Guy, George Thorogood, and others.

But the best way to know Curtis is to see him live. He is a soul singer in the oldest tradition, and when you listen to him you hear bits and pieces of all the great soul and blues singers wrapped up in a voice that is still utterly original. I have heard him sing gospel that sent the hairs on the back of my head standing up; I have heard him sing Sam Cooke, John Lennon, B.B. King, and make them brand new. It is in fact a crime that the world does not know Curtis the way they know Robert Cray, who to me is the inferior performer and vocalist.

Curtis is a very important part of a very important time in my life; during my senior year in college, We Boys would go every Thursday night to the Dandelion Pub in northwest Portland to hear Curtis and the Stillettos play; we practically sat on the stage. We got to know some of the band a little bit - bassist John Mazzocco, drummer Scott Frost - and we got to hear hours of Curtis rip through songs like they were coming right out of his chest for the first time. One fine night, my roommate was allowed to bring his trumpet and play with the band, and Curtis couldnt have been more generous in his listening and his advice to my friend. We saw him many other places, too, as many of the coolest Portlanders have, and I will never forget it.

And now, once again, Curtis is getting publicity for all the wrong reasons. Earlier this year, the man was diagnosed with liver cancer and is now undergoing treatment, and awaiting a liver transplant. This, as you might expect, is bad. Curtis, like many working musicians, has no insurance and is looking at bills in the hundreds of thousands of dollars. Recently, an all-star concert was held in Portland to raise money to help, but if you're out there, and you've heard Curtis, or just believe in paying it forward, well, a really great musician needs your help. Think about making a gift to help out Curtis Salgado, and then goddamnit watch your local music paper for when he comes to your town and see what it is you helped pay to save - a national treasure.

Here's Curtis's website: http://www.curtissalgado.com/index.html
Here's information on giving: http://www.curtissalgado.com/news.html
Here's his label where CD's can be purch'd: http://www.shanachie.com/

Juego al futbol

2006-06-20T17:29:00.000-04:00

If you recognize the name on the photo of the football above, you are going to have a head start on the following story. It also follows on the heels of my recent posts on autographed items, though up to this point they have been signed comic books, and this is, in fact, a football.

It is not the kind of football that is currently enthralling the world as Togo and Switzerland kick a little white ball around to the joy of fans world wide - no, it is a standard, good ol' American Lucy-pull-it-out-from-under-Charlie Brown football. Those of you out there who know the Mole know that sports is not his forte; a baseball game, if anything, and few of those since the Moleson gave up sports for Emo. The only part of the Super Bowl I pay attention to is the halftime show; I am not a football fan and do not hope to be one.

As longtime listeners may remember, the Mole works an actual job, raising money for a hospital system, and in the state of Delaware. In Delaware there is a terrific organization called the Delaware Community Foundation, and a few weeks back I was one of several hundred people who attended a celebration of the DCF's 20th year of doing wonderful works in the First State.

I sat in the back with coworkers; we ate a nice lunch and heard nice speeches. The keynote that day was former Philadelphia Eagles coach Dick Vermeil, who I thought I had maybe heard of before but couldnt have picked him out of a police lineup. He apparently led another team to win the Super Bowl a few years back, and had taken the Eagles to the Super Bowl and lost many years ago, but is apparently, as I learned, something of a big name and a revered individual in the area. (I knew none of this beforehand).

He spoke; he was better than most highly-paid inspirational speakers and I enjoyed it. At the end of the gig, as we were getting up to go back to work, they announced that Mr. Vermeil had signed five footballs and they were going to draw names out of a hat to give out the balls. And who(m) do you think had their name drawn first - why, none but your friend the Mole, who then had to walk, embarassed (especially when I thought Dick was going to throw the ball to me from across the room and I waved him off) all the way to the front to get my prize. And so now, I have a signed Dick Vermeil football.

At least two people offered me money for it on the way out. I will keep it because, well, its kind of cool. I may even buy one of those plastic boxes to keep it in. Right now it sits up on the shelf next to my signed Cal Ripken ball, which are so common as to be used in bartering in the streets of Baltimore.

And now my autograph journey is done, for now. Where oh where might it take me next? The adventure continues.........

Atomik Nacho Pot Pourri

2006-06-19T19:46:00.000-04:00

1. Nacho Libre: Unfortunate. Bad. Perhaps racist? Jack Black playing Jack Black with an accent. Not funny. Boring. Did I say maybe racist? Ah well. At least we have the Tenacious D movie to look forward to, and if you dont know what that is, well, you are sad. I love the Jackster, dont get me wrong, loved him in Kong, School of Rock, even Envy. This is not it.

2. A followup to the note on WizardWorld - also got to meet Sal Abbinati, creator and artist for Atomika, now on its 7th issue of independent publication. He was a bit under the weather but was gracious and gentlemanly and was kind enough to sign the Alex Ross-covered Atomika #1. Atomika is a terrific, old-school-Heavy-Metal story about the gods of ancient Russia coming to life and fighting each other (gross oversimplification) and it is far out, to use the vernacular. There's a trade that collects the first half and Sal told us that day he's going to finish up the 12-issue regular series and then do an annual with some material that didnt fit into the series. You. Should. Check. It. Out. Here's the autygraft and thanks again Sal --
3. Dane Cook on this past week's repeat of SNL - "Dude, Smell My Eyes!" Classic. Still laughing.

4. This: 5. Next: More Autographs

Get Map

2006-06-17T08:54:00.000-04:00

Geek Moment Alpha

2006-06-15T17:32:00.000-04:00

Regular viewers of this broadcast know that the Mole has reignited his childhood passion for what nowadays the youngsters call "comic books." In the past we have discussed, you and I, the Godhood of one Jacob Kurtzburg, aka Jack "King" Kirby, who is and was and shall be. But there is another who approaches the King in greatness, in vastness of imagination and storytelling ability, in mythmaking propensities, etc., etc., and that is why I am now pleased to institute....

Yes, Jim Starlin. Way back in 1980 or so I became particularly aware of Mr. S when I procured the first issue of Epic Illustrated, in which his Metamorphosis Odyssey first appeared. Too much to go into here, but basically the plot of this incredibly powerful multi-part cosmic epic involved the need to destroy the Milky Way galaxy, the whole magilla, so that it would not be horribly raped and pillaged from one end to the other by the most horrible aliens ever in the history of history itself.

Out of the MO, came the stories of the survivors, particularly one Vanth Dreadstar, who Starlin turned into the hero of a couple of graphic novels and then a long-running creator-owned monthly comic.

Jump forward to now, and I have been discovering the other greatness of Mr. S., that being the demi-God Thanos, who fell in love with death and sought to destroy reality in order to please his queen. Thanos routinely seeks after ultimate power and then ends up saving it so that others dont get to do what he wants to do, usually in tandem with and opposition to one Adam Warlock. Again, that's a thumbnail of over three decades of story, mostly written by Jim Starlin. But Thanos is a truly great villain, a slightly more moral version of Kirby's Darkseid who has of late (Annihilation Wave notwithstanding) been working to atone for his sins of the past. We'll see how that works out.

In any event, on my list of creators, Jim Starlin is right up there just slightly below Kirby in terms of sheer scope, cosmic power, and range of imagination. Of course, Mr. K is sadly deceased, but a couple weekends ago, Moleson and I visited the local WizardWorld Con and there, sitting unassumingly in front of pictures of his creations, was Jim Starlin.

I geeked out. I told my son, "Oh, My God, That's Jim Starlin!"

Of course, he said, "Who?"

In any event, it was a great, spine-tingly, geeky pleasure to meet Jim Starlin, to shake his hand and tell him what a fan I have been for these 26 years - he was most pleasant and friendly and I went away thrilled. Oh yes, and I had just picked up copies of Dreadstar #1 and Dreadstar Annual #1 - so I was equally pleased for him to sign those copies, which now sit but feet away from me here in the Molehole.

I will discuss more on Mr. Starlin and Mighty Thanos in the near future. In the meantime my new treasures are below for your viewing pleasure. Peace.

Ash Nazg Durbatuluk!!!!

2006-06-14T18:57:00.000-04:00

FinnTroll's 2003 disc Visor Om Slutet ("Songs of the End") is like The Chieftains and System of a Down scoring a version of the Lord of the Rings where Sauron wins and orcs take over the world, and its not such a bad thing. As with all histories, real or otherwise, it is written by the winners, and if Frodo and Sam had screwed it all up the movie would've been different and this would be the soundtrack.

Finntroll is my proof that there is good in every genre, even death metal. They are what Conan the Barbarian would listen to today if he were pillaging Seacaucus or something. Yes, they grunt and growl their lyrics (in Swedish) and they play their drums and geetars real fast and real loud, but they also convey a sense of ancient grandeur straight out of Professor T and the Elder Edda, of frostbitten northern nights and magic in the deep woods.

Visor Om Slutet is the disc for those who even with all that cant take the heaviness of the "standard" Finntroll music. Recorded on both electric and acoustic instruments, including tubas, kazoos, and such folky stuff, this record is about medieval folk music played by a heavy metal band. It is what Zepp was trying to evoke on songs like "Battle of Evermore" and "Immigrant Song" without losing their metal edge - here, for the most part, this band of dark, hairy Finnish barbarians give up the metal sound and find its soul. Its not a long album and takes some getting used to, but by gum if it aint the perfect music to sit in the candlelit dark of your mead hall on a winters night.

If Grendel had been a rock star, this is the album he would have produced. Brilliant. Weak of heart should not find translations on the web - actually better to listen in the original Swedish to get the effect. The Mole says go forth and conquer. (Theres a link to Finntroll's website over there to your right with some old demos available for download).

did an evil fire man kill the motherbox?

2006-04-03T19:55:00.000-04:00

el motherbox esta muy explosivo!

2006-01-23T20:50:00.000-05:00

Forever People #6, July, 1988

2006-01-21T08:26:00.000-05:00

salvation ala mode with a cup of tea

2006-01-21T08:03:00.000-05:00

Ok ok not that Aqualung...apparently this guy, a British guy, real name apparently Matt Hales, records under the name Aqualung, apparently not minding any connotations to the old Jethro Tull song of the same name containing lines like "Sitting on a park bench / eyeing little girls with bad intent" and "snot running down his nose / greasy fingers smearing shabby clothes", etc. I've heard him on xpn with no real impression made here in the Mohelmot caves (see links to xpn and ralph records, left, er I mean, your right, my left).

Anyway, recently picked up a free CD sampler of three songs Aqualung left off his latest CD, Strange and Beautiful, one of which is a rather fun live version of Queen's "Somebody to Love" with the San Fran audience singing back up on the conclusion. It might be available at Itunes or some such so you may wish to check it out. Or ask your local purveyor of stacks of wax to seek this little 3-song gem out for you in their giveaway bin. You'll be glad you did.

Sex Crime (Orwell Would Be Proud)

2006-01-05T21:05:00.000-05:00

Now that I've got your attention...

I watched a great little sorta-scifi movie tonight called Code 46 -- sort of the first love story of the information security/patriot act/genetic engineering/bigbrother age. Tim Robbins, great as always, plays an investigator who is called in when the electronic visas people need to be, well, anywhere in the world are being forged. He manages to fall in love with the girl who is making the phonies, and in a hyper-secure world where everything everybody does is monitored (and interestingly, for the most part, nobody seems to mind) this causes some problems.

The title, for example, refers to a law that says that if you conceive a child with someone with whom you share anywhere between 25-100% of the same genetic material with, the child has to be terminated and you will not be allowed to marry. You may lose your access to the interior of the cities and be cast out into the lawless areas outside the cities. This ends up factoring into the love story in a way that is too complicated to explain here and would ruin a major plot point anyway.

One of the most interesting aspects of the film is that the future is largely "suggested" -- the movie was creatively filmed in existing locations that look like the beginnings of the future in Blade Runner before it begins to, as Warren Zevon once sang, "run straight down." The move happens largely in Shanghai, and it looks like it was filmed in all the coolest parts of some major Asian city. What few special effects are here are subtle, and the overall effect is of a world just a few decades removed from our own -- kind of like Spielberg's Minority Report, only less obvious.

A well-made, thought-provoking, quiet love story. The Mole hath seen it, you should to. Nite nite.

Monkey to Man

2006-01-05T05:46:00.000-05:00

People say we monkey around.
Doing Mickey's Monkey, children.
I wish the ape a lot of success.
I was a monkey, stealing honey from a swarm of bees.
Ever since the nightly news show that the monkey man was on.
Watch the monkey get hurt.
There was a woman in the jungle and a monkey on a tree.
Haven't you always wanted a monkey?
I aint no monkey but I know what I like.

A friend gave me this picture. This is a Japanese Macaque. When I come back, I will come back if at all possible as one of these guys, who spend a great deal of the winter lounging about in natural hot springs to stay warm, as our little buddy above is doing. Plus, I get to be a monkey! Double plus, I'll be better looking! What a deal. (Thanks, Friend!)

I can't feel my thumb!!!!

2006-01-02T20:35:00.000-05:00

Out of sheer laziness, the Mole today acquired a universal remote for his TV (despite the fact of only having 15 channels, but thats another story) and there are three(3) seperate sets of instructions as to how to get your TV to recog your remote. Among the directions for getting the thing to work when your TV obstinately refuses to recog your remote is this (my emphasis):

4. Press the ON-OFF button repeatedly (up to 300 times) until the device to be controlled turns off. The red indicator blinks off with each button press.

The Mole is proud to inform loyal readers that it only took him 47 presses of the ON-OFF button to achieve remoteness. Lesser beings might well have had press the requisite additional 253. I wonder what would happen if some hapless fool pressed 301? Who was the researcher who arrived at 300? Very suspicious.

No applause, as we used to say in the third grade, just throw money.

HAPPY 2006 FROM THE ENTIRE STAFF HERE AT MOTHERBOX WHO PROMISES NOT TO LET WEEKS AND WEEKS GO BY BETWEEN POSTS IN THE EVENT ANYBODY'S EVEN STILL

2005-12-31T22:40:00.000-05:00

PAYING ATTENTION, OKAY? NO EXCUSES. I LOVE YOU ALL. KISSES. THE MOLE.

A special Dover Area School District Rerun Of....

2005-12-20T18:48:00.000-05:00

“Although proponents of the IDM (Intelligent Design Model) occasionally suggest that the designer could be a space alien or a time-travelling cell biologist, no serious alternative to God as the designer has been proposed by member of the IDM, including Defendants’ expert witnesses.”

--Opinion of the Presiding Judge, Intelligent Design Trial, Page 25
Kitzmiller vs. Dover Area School District, December 20, 2005

I refer you again to an earlier K.I.G. - and rest my case: http://motherbox.blogspot.com/2005/09/my-evidence-for-intelligent-design.html

KONG SAY SEE MOVIE NOW

2005-12-18T17:50:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was in Best Buy and they were selling a dual pack of DVD's of the old Japanese King Kong movies from the '60's -- King Kong vs. Godzilla and King Kong Returns, for twenty bucks. I was sorely tempted by both but held off. I love both movies from when I was a kid but it just didnt seem like the thing to do.

So today I took that twenty bucks and went to see Peter Jackson's new King Kong. Let me tell you, I am very glad I saved my money. I will echo all the other critics and tell you that King Kong gives the kind of fun, thrills, and jawdropping wonder that got me to learn to love movies in the first place. Jackson has taken his eye for grandeur and scope and coupled it with that amazing imagination that allows him to put all this together somehow in his head and make it come out on screen and produce and absolute and total classic. The cast is great -- Jack Black finds his way admirably as the showman Carl Denham and Naomi Watts does an almost-wordless performance making friends with the big monkey that makes you forget (or be totally amazed) that she probably did the whole thing in front of a green screen while looking at a stuffed gorrilla doll on a stick.

But the real star here is Kong himself, amazingly performed by the best unknown famous actor in the world, Andy Serkis, who gives Kong a humanity and a pathos that would not be there if they had "just" computer generated him. Every look, every roar, every glance conveys character because Mr. S is inside looking out. Someday he's going to get a part that allows him to show the same complexity he's brought to Smeagol and Kong and then he'll get his deserved Oscar.

So to sum up:

1) DO NOT wait for this to come out on DVD - this is a movie made for the movie theater, and it will not translate especially well to the tube.

2) Brontosaurus stampede. (!!!!)

3) Kong fights three (3) T-Rex's. At once. This sequence will leave you breathless.

4) Empire State Building sequence heart wrenching and brilliant.

5) You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll feel your nine-to-twelve bucks was well spent.

6) Did I say "brontosaurus stampede"????

GO. NOW. Drop everything. See the best movie of the year. Please.

Dont Ask Me Why No One Quite Knows The Reason

2005-12-14T19:53:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note tonight cuz I want to see the Grinch, the real Boris-Karloff-Chuck-Jones Grinch not the incredibly bad Ron-Howard-Who-The-Hell-Thought-He-Could-Pull-It-Off-Even-With-Jim-Carrey Grinch-like thing. Horrors.

A quick shout out to Mr. Christopher Moore, who wrote the most important theological book of the 21st century, the incredibly hilarious Lamb: The Gospel According to Christ's Best Friend Biff, which should be read by everyone with a brain and a funny bone (this excludes Larry the Cable Guy, for example, who has neither) -- I have recently completed Moore's earlier book, Fluke, which is to Moby Dick what Douglas Adams is to, I dunno, Stanislaw Lem or something. If you ever wanted to truly understand whales and laugh out loud while you do, Fluke is your book. It's a quick read for those of you looking for something entertaining over winter break and all in all worth the eleventyseven dollars or whatever it costs.

Okay, let's head for Whoville. See you later, defibrillator.

This isn't writing, this is typing!

2005-12-13T19:06:00.000-05:00

It was certainly something of a shock to me when, at some point, I learned that Truman Capote was somebody important in the world of literature, and not just the weird, whiny-voiced guy with the cape on Hollywood Squares (where he thankfully was outweirded routinely by Paul Lynde and Rip Taylor, which may have helped preserve whatever dignity he had left -- but what kinda backstage party must that threesome have made!).

Anyway, I have not yet had the opportunity to read In Cold Blood, but having seen the absolutely masterful film Capote (for which Phillip Seymour Hoffman was deservedly awarded a Golden Globe nomination today) it is rapidly moving to the top of the list. I am surprised the movie itself did not get nominated, as the film is absolutely stunning, the antithesis of American film in the 21st century: quiet, thoughtful, character-driven, and still resonates weeks after seeing it.

Roughly covering the period of time between the murders that inspire Capote's book and the ultimate completion and publication of the finished work, Capote presents an incredible character study of the author, made absolutely real by Hoffman's astounding performance. He absolutely disappears into Capote's skin, as he does in every role he takes on, and stakes a claim to being the best character actor working in film today.

The key to the film is the amazing symmetry between Capote's life and the life of the killer he befriends and cajoles into telliing the gruesome story: at one point he says it is as if the two of them grew up in the same house, and one day the killer walked out the back door and Capote walked out the front. Hoffman wastes no gesture, no inflection and manages to keep his subject from caricature. To date, it is the best movie of the year in my mind, and Hoffman is worthy of the highest critical and popular accolades.

Do you get the sense I like it? Dont wait, go see it while it's still in the theaters. More soon.

Hear the Voice of DOOM!

2005-12-12T20:10:00.000-05:00

Okay, the Mole sucks as a blogger, he admits it. There is much to be desired in the swift completion of his appointed round. Nonetheless, I do endeavor to press on, in hopes that I can reward the occasional traveller with an oasis of info and levity. And in that vein, let's discuss Doom 2099.

One of the first attempts to bring some new life into the Marvel Universe, back in the early '90's, was to take all the heroes a century or so into the future and reinvent them all -- thus were the 2099 books, including Ravage 2099, Spiderman 2099, X-Men 2099 -- you get the picture. But one of the most original of these was Doom 2099, which took Marvel's best ever bad guy, Victor von Doom, King of Latveria, bopped him thru a timewarp into the future, and gave him a whole new world to roam. The interesting twist in this series, and all the 2099 books, was that the future was largely run by corporations, and there was some pre-Matrix (I think) internet-reality interface stuff -- and furthermore, some question as to whether the Doom in this story was in fact the Doom of the Marvel Universe, or some alternate realm, or something else.

In any event, some terrific stories, interesting arcs and subplots, and some very nice characterizations of Doom hisownself add up to a very entertaining comic book. It was cancelled around its 45th issue but I have managed to procure the first 21 issues over the past few months from 50 cent bins around the region. I highly recommend this sci-fi adventure series to anybody who likes words in their comics and intelligence in their plots -- some great artwork from the always-excellent Pat Broderick as well. The Mole sez check it out.

Coming Soon: Movie Night with Truman Capote.

Reality is that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn't go away. - Philip K. Dick

2005-12-04T11:35:00.000-05:00

Photo Courtesy of the Great Mole Father

Today's Culture Corner

2005-11-29T20:01:00.000-05:00

The Hokey Pokey
By William Shakespeare

O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe.
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.

Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke,
Mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from Heaven's yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.

The Hoke, the Poke -- banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, 'tis what it's all about.

(Thanks, Pat, if you're watching -- and thanks, Clau for the kind comments. The Mole)

Tryptophan Hangover (I Don't Want To Get Over)

2005-11-28T19:49:00.000-05:00

Hullo, Molies, so nice to be back from the Turkstravaganza, several pounds grossly fatter from stuffing my stupid face, and chuck (chock?) fulla stuff to discuss. Yes, I did venture forth (or fifth even) from the MoleHole and fly West to the mythical land of Indiana, home of David Letterman, Dan Quayle, and the immortal Joyce DeWitt (as well as, for the time being, my parents.) Many a strange thing did I see there, and many a tale of adventure and intrigue do I have to tell, but instead, here's this crap:

ITEM! The coolest thing happening in Indiana right now is the Lord of the Rings exhibit at the Indiana State Museum (which is an entire museum about Indiana -- in Indiana! Go figure.) This very well done show was created by the Museum of New Zealand (which is an entire museum about -- oh, never mind) with actual stuff from the actual Peter Jackson movies. So you get to see the actual clothes Viggo Mortenson wore as Aragorn (and he actually mended and kept them up himself), the nine rings of the Nazgul, the full body armor of Sauron, lotsa cool blades and stuff, and the actual One Ring To Rule Them All (safely encased in a lucite tube to keep you from giving in to the Dark Side of the Matrix or whatever). If you're in the neighborhood, do check it out, its there at least through the Christmas holidays -- no word on whether it's going anywhere after that.

ITEM! If you weren't aware, I'm the son of rage and love, the Jesus of Suburbia. Okay, just kidding, but I might be the Moses of Exurbia. As such, I am here to bestow upon you the latest Green Day stuff. A couplea things, first of all, Bullet in a Bible is out, and the Moleson, for whom GD is something of a religion, says it is very good -- perhaps even Awesome. Soundwise, the live disc sounds great and if you're a fan and dont already have it, where the heck are you? For the more adventurous, however, you should head for www.americanedit.net, where amidst some mildly amusing stuff about a fictitious Vegas lounge singer named Dean Grey (think about it, say it out loud, spoonerize it) is a rather clever and in some places brilliant mashup/remix of the entire American Idiot album. This is by the same guy, DJ Party Ben, who put together the ingenious Boulevard of Broken Songs, which is one of the tracks for American Edit. The opening track, American Jesus, mashes up the first two songs on Idiot and manages to work in Smokey Robinson's Tears of a Clown and Johnny Cash's Ring of Fire. A later track manages to turn Wake Me Up When September Ends and the Eagles' Your Lyin' Eyes into something really spiffy. Lots there, downloading will take time, but fun if you like that sorta thing.

ITEM! Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire -- all I can say is, any movie where the teenager in the car has to explain away the parts you didnt like by saying, "Well, see, in the book, it happened like this...." was not written well. Suffice it to say Goblet runs in the tradition of Azkaban, darker and less wooden emotionally than the first two, but is not as good, and is in fact rather flat in the midparts (and we all know how painful that can be, dont we, boys?) Lots of the more interesting characters are relegated to supporting bits (I think Alan Rickman has like four lines in the whole thing) and the teenage love story part of it gets very dull very fast. Bring back Cuaron for the next one, or better yet, hire Terry Gilliam. I give it three out of five, or whatever.

Thats all for now, True Believers -- some comic book rants soon but I have to read through the pile. Peace.

Post No Bills

2005-11-23T06:16:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note to those of you who might be here (and I specifically do not mean the guy who keeps asking me in the comments section if he's "good to be a webmaster" nd asks me to check out his website), that as the Mole ascends to the surface to join 37 Million of my American brethren and sistren (and Greta Van Sustren - sorry) in travelling this Holiday weekend, please accept my heartfelt wish for a most happy Thanksgiving and hopes that your family situation is at least tolerable for a few hours of Turkey and Football (or whatever) on Thursday and that your travel is safe and that nobody beats you up at the after-Thanksgiving sales. I will be in the air much of today and then trying to find a temporary molehole in the midwest. Until I return, take care, and peace.

Tremble, Mortals!

2005-11-20T20:49:00.000-05:00

Thanks to our friends at www.thecomicbookshop.com, and the sale bins at their bi-annual sale this weekend, we are ready for another exciting edition of

June, 1973

August, 1971

(Click on images to see 'em actual size or so). One of the cool things that Marvel used to do back in the early '70's was reprint old monster comics (and westerns and superhero and sci-fi) up the gazoo. 'Course, back then they were twenty cents and you could buy ten titles for what it now costs to buy one. A lot of these reprint books, like Monsters on the Prowl, made it possible for comics lovers to get ahold of classic stories that, in the original form, might cost hundreds or thousands of dollars.

Nobody and I mean nobody does Monsters or Aliens or Machinery (or, heck, anything) like ol'King Kirby. This went all the way up to his last work for Marvel, when he did the absolutely stunning Devil Dinosaur, recently revived in an excellent one-shot from Marvel. The nice thing is, Marvel's getting back in the business of doing reprint books, especially when they tie in with something new coming up, and though you may have to pay more they put 'em on glossy paper and let you see them probably better than you would in the original newsprint editions.

I'm hoping those special edition monster books and the new Nick Fury's Howling Commandos (new artist pleeeez) will rekindle interest in these books and let a new generation of writers and artists tell the stories.

Keep 'em flying. Peace.

Exterminate The Brutes

2005-11-17T19:12:00.000-05:00

The utter transparency of the Bush administration's falsehood and evil is so plain that stupid people everywhere are madly, blindly scurrying under the closest mold covered rocks to avoid the harsh media lights which would force them against their will to proclaim that George Bush and his henchmen are thugs, not smart enough to run organized crime, if they were turned into bugs they would be cockroaches, like the cockroaches the mole currently greets almost daily in his sink and medicine chest, living in faeces and garbage and pools of festering vomit and urine.

We, and we know who we are, have always known, and have prayed to whatever dark political gods there are that these days would come, the days when Bush would be exposed for the monstrous fraud he is, a pestilence of almost Old Testament proportions visited upon us for the sins of our own stupidity: that we would for even a moment shatter the progress of generations of enlightened men and women and say, war is an effective diplomacy tool, that evolution is a falsity and Adam named the dinosaurs, and the American people are stupid enough to think that an Arabian Horse molester could run FEMA.

Do you even remember that the reason we elected George Walker Bush is because we didnt like the fact that Monica Lewinsky gave Bill Clinton blowjobs in the Oval Office? That is the only reason. Gore had and has ideas -- Bush shuns them as one would shun the Bird Flu. Does it register that George Bush had been on vacation for A MONTH before 9/11, obviously at a loss for anything else to do and such a fucking tool of his own pasty, pudgy-fingered, Wormtongue handlers that he didnt (and doesnt) even need to spend much time in Washington?

This is not a time to rejoice, by any means: first of all the Beast George Rabban is still in power, a tool of Baron Karl von Harkonnen, and the spice flows under his control. If the democrats can take back EVEN ONE house of Congress next Fall there could be hope; but even then there is much to fear. But at least the emperor's clothes are being exposed - we are at the point in the story where everyone but the emperor sees he's naked: soon the crowds will begin to titter, then guffaw, and then he will be seen for what he is -- a Fool. An Imbecile. A Puppet of hungry men who seek all for themselves. And then we can tie ropes to the statues and pull them down.

Peace to all.

Where Is The Mole? Is He Here?

2005-11-15T19:57:00.000-05:00

Mole History: November 12, 1978

2005-11-12T07:44:00.000-05:00

Sorry I havent written the last few months but I lost the book. Well, let's see, oh, yeah. Brian, Allan, Scott, Steve Scroggins, some other people I havent decided on are gonna make a movie. I write, direct, co-produce, cast, film, and exec. produce "The Micronauts". Brian will play Arcturus Rann, Allan will (probably) play Bug. Scott will play Biotron, and Steve will play Microtron. I will play a guy named Argon who gets killed in the first scene. There are 19 parts to be filled. I'll keep you informed. Hey, in my last entry I talked about Battlestar: Galactica! It is a DOOOZZYY! I LUUUVV IT! Well, Wednesday, a new movie I wanna see premiers. It's Ralph Bakshi's animated version of J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings! I started a new scrapbook for it!! (I finished my Star Wars.) Well, see ya.

Post #100: If I'm In, I'll Tell You What's Behind The Wall

2005-11-02T20:24:00.000-05:00

In 1983, I was just beginning to comprehend the political realities of the world in the ugly, mean, violent Reagan years, only just beginning to get a sense of the fact that the Big Brothers and Sisters of the world were not necessarily to be trusted, believed or venerated. As with most teenage boys, I was struggling to figure out what the hell life was, and few if any of the answers I was being given via church, school, whatever resonated with me at all.

Into that void landed The Final Cut, Roger Waters' last Pink Floyd album. A quiet, introspective album, the Final Cut spoke to me on levels that no music, certainly no previous Pink Floyd music, ever had. It whispered in my ear and affirmed the fact that all those ugly, depressing things that seemed to be happening in the world were, in fact, happening; it was not depressing to listen to, it was affirming -- here was a rational voice, an adult voice, really, saying, yup, it really is as bad as all that. And it could get worse.

The Final Cut is essentially a coda to The Wall, without the bombast and excess of Waters' masterpiece. It is a requiem for the post war dream -- that thought that after WWII everything would be better and rosier and happier (see Donald Fagen's Nightfly) but that actually turned meaner and darker. Waters watched England under Maggie Thatcher degenerate into violence and misrule, and realized that all the things that were supposed to happen, didnt.

In this day of CD's, this is a hard thing to understand: FC is a two-part album, and each side of the vinyl tells a different side of the story. Side One is the personal side, the story (I have always felt) of the sadistic schoolmaster in the Wall. This may be in part because the protagonist of the videos made for FC was the same actor as played the schoolmaster in the movie. In any event, I imagined this man, sitting home, retired, watching the chaos of England degenerating around him and wondering what the hell he and his generation fought for: his marriage empty ("Your Possible Pasts"), his students insolent and whiny ("The Hero's Return"), his memories of dead comrades fresh in his mind (the absolutely brilliant and heart wrenching "The Gunners Dream"), and the only place he can get relief is down at the pub, where he can't truly be himself, and realizes that his life is half over and nothing is what he expected ("Paranoid Eyes"). It all sounds harsh, but the harshness is belied by Waters' empathy for his characters. While he doesnt see much hope for him, he does genuinely feel for him. There is no arch sneering here.

Side Two takes the story to 30,000 feet, as it were, and shows the broader world that Waters sees on the news -- this in the days when there was no CNN Europe. He literally kicks it off with a bang -- the missile explosion at the beginning of "Get Your Filthy Hands Off My Desert" -- and leads into a scathing and slightly homicidal plan for the "overgrown infants" currently running the world (or at least they were in 1983):

...welcome Reagan and Haig
Mr. Begin and friend, Mrs. Thatcher and Paisley,
Mr. Brezhnev and party
the ghost of McCarthy
and the memories of Nixon... ("The Fletcher Memorial Home")

Next, a meditation on the fact that the war to end all wars - the second one - hasn't ended war at all, and soldiers continue to leave "Southampton Dock" again and again to die in bloody battlefields.

Following this is the title track, and the heart of the album, which distinctly ties this record into the Wall -- in fact "The Final Cut" is almost a summary of the Wall, a very succinct tale of a rock star isolated and suicidal, cut off from family and from himself, hateful of life but without courage to make the 'final cut' that would end that existence. In other words, the world is ugly, dark, and mean, but it is what we have, it is our life, and as with Hamlet, the fear of what might lie beyond keeps us from making our quietus, as twere. This is singly one of the most powerful songs I have ever heard, lyrically and musically, and if only one track were to survive for posterity this would be it.

After this long, subdued album, Waters seems to remember Pink Floyd is a band (one wonders why Gilmour and Mason even signed on, they are so artistically absent -- praps the payday was significant) and blasts into the vitriolic, slightly profane, hilarious rocker "Not Now John", a wicked satire of the corporate world in general, the arrogance and boorishness in general of the English-speaking world, and by extension the arrogance of Margaret Thatcher's government, which dispatched an army to go to war with Argentina over some tiny, almost lifeless islands, just to show that England still had some balls left.

We showed Argentina
And now we'll show these
Make us feel tough
And wouldnt Maggie be pleased?

Finally, with no stone unturned, Waters starts a nuclear war to show where he feels all this will end up, and does so in "Two Suns In The Sunset". If we dont get off this track, he says, if we dont change our way of looking at the world and dealing with each other, in the end all the bottled up rage will explode in nuclear fire. It is sobering, frightening, and poetic.

So why did I like this album so much as a teen? Well, first of all, I agreed with it, with its emotion, with its suppositions about the way the world was made. The critique of Thatcher's Britain was not far removed from the truth of Reagan's America. To be honest, it probably appealed to my adolescent sense of angst; now, 23 years later, I relate more to the relational aspects, the isolation and difficulty of life and the pain that people can cause you. It is one of those few albums that continue to resonate in new ways every time I hear it, on so many levels, like Dylan's "Blood on the Tracks." If you have not heard it, I strongly recommend you check it out, dig out your headphones, and listen in the dark. It will impact you deeply, even though some of the references are dated.

It sounds a lot like today. Peace.

Swag

2005-10-31T18:56:00.000-05:00

When you live as the Mole does, those things which are inexpensive or free are especially helpful, expecially in the world of entertaining oneself. Dollar stores are fun, and the 50 cent bins at the comic shop can be helpful, but as a certain buzzcut stereo and tv hawker from Portland usedta say (and if you're a real Portlander you know of whom I sprechen): "Free is a very good price."

This is whatcha call swag -- free stuff. I learned the term from the "Bam Builds His New Skatepark" episode of Viva La Bam, and am now on a near constant swag radar fix. Free stuff. I have discovered that record stores, especially those independent wrecka stows (see Prince, "Under The Cherry Moon", or better yet, don't) that still sell paraphrenalia and mood candles, are willing to divest themselves of their excess free promotional crap that their reps bestow on them, and occasionally that includes some decent music.

Case in point: yesterday I was able to visit a couple of Baltimore-area record stores and in one of them there was a veritable treasure trove of stuff, supplying new music and samples. A lot of smaller labels will allow their up-and-coming artists to include theyselfs on giveaway discs and you are then able to acquire some pretty decent music for free. Here's a bit of what I picked up, FYI:

John Prine: I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus / Silver Bells -- this little sampler disc is apparently a re-release of the first single from Oh Boy! records back in 1980 -- Mr. Prine does Christmas favorites. The music is fun and will add to the holiday repertoire nicely; but the really cool thing here is that the original single was on red vinyl, and I used to collect colored-vinyl singles (dont ask me where they are now, its a sad, sad tale of woe) -- but with this little 2-song CD they have tried to replicate the feel of red vinyl with a partially see-thru redvinyl disc. Very cool. And yes, it was FREE.

This Bird Has Flown: Bonus Tracks -- This is a couple of bonuses from a recent album celebrating the 40th anniversary of the Beatles' Rubber Soul album. The first track is Slow Runner's I've Just Seen A Face, turning the semi-frenetic original track into a slow, laid-back slacker version that is very endearing; the second is Sam Champion's version of "It's Only Love", which is also nice, though I must admit I dont recall ever hearing the original version. But certainly the quality of these two extras speaks to the potential of the album itself and getting these for FREE endears me to the makers and would certainly incline me more toward purchasing said compilation.

Coheed and Cambria: Welcome Home -- this was a gasper, an honest to God vinyl 45 from the brand new Coheed album. Coheed is growing on me, I love any band that is relentlessly individualistic and does what they want to do no matter what, and the fact that they would be willing to actually commit a track to vinyl says a lot about their character. I miss my 45s, this is true, and I am glad to have this one; there's just something about vinyl that has a depth and resonance that CD's don't. I dont know how to put my finger on it, but listening to music on vinyl requires a real commitment from the listener -- you cant go anywhere, you have to stay and listen, and pay attention. CD's are like cell phones; they have made life more portable, yes, you cant imagine life without them, but we've lost some kind of communality (whoosh theres a word) because of them. I need to smell the vinyl. And, by Jiminy, this sucker was FREEEEE.

Anyway. There was more swag in this trip, but not worth mentioning. But isn't it nice to know the giant corporate death monster throws you a bone every once in awhile? Keep your feet on the ground, and keep looking at the stars.....

Imagine There's No Heaven

2005-10-29T19:58:00.000-04:00

or, "Questions That Pop Up When You Surf The Web With A Nice Glass of Red Wine".

So, I'm surfing around and looking at blogs and I come to one where the girl doing the blog says, in so many words, because God loves me, I'm going to build a camp for disabled kids. I have no problem with camps for kids with disabilities, in fact I think we need to do all kinds of things for all kinds of people whose lives are affected by things beyond their control...yknow, like hurricane victims and such.

Anyway, my question is, why do we have to do these things because God loves us? Why is it "better" if we do these things because of God? So many people are so quick to say, well, God told me to do this and I did it. But isnt it just as good if we do a camp for disabled kids because, well, disabled kids got a raw deal on the old genetic roulette wheel and we should do whatever we can to make up for it? Why do we need a concept of God to be good? Why cant we just do things because we're all stuck here on this rock together and wouldnt it be nice if we just did stuff like that to make the generally difficult go of it that 99% of us, Christian Jew Muslim Hindu Atheist Whatever, have most of the time rather than having to do it because God loves us?

See, here's the thing I suspect -- what Jesus really said back there wandering around in Palestine is, life sucks, and then you die, and there's a lot of it you have no control over, but it seems to me if we all took care of each other and appreciated the short time we have and treated each other with the same dignity because we're all in the same stupid predicament, it would be much more palatable. How good would it be, said the prophet, if everybody would just be nice to each other for a change?

Again, if we're just racking up points so God will like us and give us cushy new digs in his Vegas-style heaven, that's stupid and pointless and worthless. And if the real point of religion is to get us to be nice to each other, why cant we just DO that? Why do we have to put in place all this pointless power structure crap that seems to result in discrimination and child abuse and things that just make our time more difficult? Why does religion not make things EASIER in a world where things are already tough?

Anywho. This is what you get from a guy who lives underground by himself on occasion. Hope your All Hallows' Eve is good -- next up, spooky stuff from the great Inkling, Charles Williams.....

Give Till It Bleeds

2005-10-27T18:50:00.000-04:00

The Mole has a job, yes, it's true, he doesnt just sit around all day dreaming up what will be the next Motherbox exclusive, he actually works all day in the Magical, Non-Stop Fun world of Fund Raising! No, the Mole does not supply pepperoni sticks and magazine subscriptions to middle schoolers -- he works in the world of axing folks for the beeg dollah, mon -- five, six, seven figure gifts for major non-profits.

There's a lot of us out there, you know. My guess is you know one of us because most fund raisers dont start out to be fundraisers. Very, very few decide in college they are going to raise money for non-profits - -not terribly sexy or lucrative. (As an advisor once told me, "When you start working for non-profits, you find out they mean 'non-profit.'") They start out to be bankers or lawyers or sales people or trashy novelists and one day find themselves needing to put food on the table and so they get a gig ("for now") raising money for their alma mater or something and twenty years later you're an AFP member and you find yourself using terms like "donor base" and "if you could see your way clear" and "leadership gift" without thinking about it.

It grabs hold of you and doesnt let go -- not like a drug, more like a creeping fungus.

Anyway, it creates some strange bedfellows sometimes. Case in point: today I am sitting in my office, trying to clear some of the many trade publications that have piled up on my desk, and on the back page of one of them is an article, actually a very good article, about how to better run your solicitation mailings, by a guy named Herschell Gordon Lewis. Herschell Gordon Lewis? I think. Where do I know that name? That sounds like...hmm....the Mole's brain chews on the words and then suddenly spits out....

Naw. Couldnt be. Maybe it's his son.

But no, a quick check of Mr. Lewis's website confirms it. Not only is Mr. L a nationally renowned expert in successful techniques for direct mail fundraising, he is something even more important: He invented splatter movies.

In 1963, Mr. L was the creator and director of Blood Feast, a movie about, well, a serial killer violently -- really violently -- hacking people up and killing them and tearing them apart, ostensibly to bring an Egyptian god back from the grave. While I have not seen Blood Feast, I have had the pleasure of seeing its follow up, 2,000 Maniacs, the plot of which is two nice, fresh-faced teenagers driving into an odd southern town and then being chased, eaten, and killed by the lunatic residents (all 2,000 of them, get it?) Poorly filmed, atrociously acted, and often careening between avert-your-eyes revolting and roll-your-eyes unintentionally hilarious, they still hold a place in film history as being the first truly all out gory horror films, percursors to Halloween, Friday the 13th, et al. John Waters is a big fan, if that tells you anything. Lewis later went on to make exploitation flicks in the '70's like She-Devils on Wheels.

I guess my point is, you just never know: next time somebody comes by or calls asking for money, and you turn them down or hang up on them, consider Herschel and his predilection for movies about people getting their limbs hacked off and their hearts torn out. You might just rethink your response.

And if you want to learn more about Mr. Lewis, go here: www.herschellgordonlewis.com

The Information In The Grid Below May Not Apply To Special Features

2005-10-26T18:55:00.000-04:00

Four days! Yeesh. And there I was trying to be so good. Ah, well. A bit of catch up (or catsup, for you old timers):

Item! Rented Layer Cake off the new arrivals wall at Blockbuster, a British gangster movie in the tradition of recent flicks like Sexy Beast (which, by the way, you should see for Ben Kingsley's supremely creepy and Oscar-nominated role as the Anti-Gandhi, the toughest meanest thug since Cagney in White Heat) where the guys are just regular, middle class-type blokes who happen to run millions in drugs or whatever. This is a terrific, fun, twisty movie; I love flicks where you honestly dont know the truth about what's going on till the very end. Some very clever acting from everyone involved.

Especially of note is the lead actor, Daniel Craig, (the guy in the middle there) who has just been chosen to be the new 007. He's a quiet, steely type (at least in this), not a prettyboy and very good. I will be interested to see his Bond...but then I was interested to see Pierce Brosnan's Bond and we just got more Roger Moore. This could (please God cross your fingers) be a bit more Sean Connery...but we've been horribly lied to and cheated by the Broccoli heirs before.

Also excellent in this is Michael Gambon, playing the Anti-Dumbledore, in a very underplayed, scary, thoughtful mob boss role that is great fun to watch. Also some very interesting music choices throughout which shows the director was actually interested in that sort of thing.

Item! The new guy at work is a music fiend (thank the powers!) and is already pushing his personal religion on me, which is something called Guided by Voices. Apparently, GBV is (or rather was) the brainchild of a guy named Bob Pollard who has now gone solo, and which has engendered some kind of cultlike following over the past decade. I was allowed to listen to the first record, Bee Thousand, and enjoyed it -- every track will remind you of at least 2 or 3 other bands or artists, but not in a derivative way. Be warned (as I was) that many of these songs dont last longer than about a minute. If you are interested in GBV (and I am feeling the interest grow, I have now been allowed a second album and have been asked about getting a snake tattoo and wearing a special fez), you can also check out the website (see to your right over there) where a couple dozen free tracks are available for download.

I have a feeling that for those of us who like to do mixtapes for friends and family, GBV could be very important when you want to fill up those last 42 seconds at the end of your 80-minute allotted slot on the CD-R. Some of these songs are literally shorter than that (there were 17 songs on the first CD I was loaned, and another 28 on the one I am listening to now.) Enjoy. It's weird, but in a cool way.

Item! In conclusion, the new Rolling Stone has Bono on the cover and a very extensive interview. I have to say, he comes off pretty well and mitigates some of my recent distaste with his political ubiquitousness. His best quote is this: "I'm sick of Bono. And I am Bono. It's like, oh, man, shut up. But there it is. You just don't want to be dull. We might be annoying. But we're not dull."

Spoken like a true egoist, and I can get down with that. Stay dry and watch for cooties. More soon.

Motherbox Letterbox

2005-10-22T22:15:00.000-04:00

Letters! We get letters! For those of you who dont want to search south for the details, we here at Motherbox have received some excellent comments of late -- nice to know somebody besides family and friends are reading....for those of you scoring at home, here's what we've learned...

Iceland Rocks Dept. Simon was nice enough to comment on the recent blurb on Icelandic atmosphericists Sigur Ros with some suggestions of his own: "At the moment I'm really into atmospheric nordic folk-band Gjallarhorn, one of the members plays a large 'contra bass recorder', which sounds like an electronic didgerydoo, and the noise is reminiscent of parts of Sigur Ros. I'm also listening to a band called Bazar Bla, which features nyckelharp, and they play a mix of folk-styles which they call 'trip folk' - really worth a listen." Thanks for stopping by, Simon, and we will seek your suggestions out shortly on the Information Superhighway.

Oh, Yeah, Them Dept. A couple of anonymous posters reacted to my own effusive, hyperbolic and poorly-thought out comment regarding H.G. Wells "The War of the Worlds", to wit: What other story can you think of that a hundred years later it has not one, not two, not three, but four major retellings / reworkings, all of which are classics in their own right? Well, my anonymous friends were kind enough to gently remind the Mole about a few other - ahem - apparently significant writers like Shakespeare, Chaucer, Boccaccio, and Arthur Conan Doyle whose creations have been interpreted and reinterpreted successfully. I'm sure there are more...I stand corrected.

(Apparently there is a new Sherlock Holmes with Rupert Everertt playing up the "stoner" version of Holmes premiering on PBS Sunday night -- they will have to go a long way to replace Jeremy Brett in my mind but it is an interesting premise. We shall see.)

Thanks to all our readers -- we're in touch, so you keep in touch. TTFN.

By The Beard of Odin!

2005-10-20T20:34:00.000-04:00

No, this is not a Ron Burgundy post, sorry -- just a quick note about Sigur Ros, an icelandic band that seeks to convey the beauty of their country through their music. Equal parts ambience, myth, and folk, they are sort of the flipside of my other favorite scandinavians, FinnTroll (think, Finntroll=Mordor, Sigur Ros=Lothlorien). Their music gives you the feeling of windswept, icy crags; dramatic icy-green seas crashing on rocky, ancient coasts...runes, elves, all that good stuff. Excellent chill music, or going-to-sleep by music.

I hope to procure their product soon, but they are nice enough to provide a whole cartload of freebie mp3's at their website, now added to the links over there to your right, including some live tracks (including some that feature readings from ancient icelandic poetry, having something to do with the Raven of Odin) and so far everything is very mood-perfect for the wandering soul thirsting for dramatic landscapes. Hit that dang link and head for the north pacific....you wont regret it.

Yes, I am a moron, wanna make something of it?

2005-10-19T19:38:00.000-04:00

Yes, I know, Lost is on tonight, not last night. The whole week's been like that, stupid full moon. Between the bathtub clogging up and the zombie people wandering at me at 6:30 in the morning in the Acme parking lot muttering "It doesnt open until 7" and then when it did open and I went to buy Drano to clean out the tub and turns out That Was The Day They Switched to the new Acme computer system (visions of Wile E. Coyote dancing in my addled brain) so it took ten minutes to buy one item while the poor befuddled clerk tried to figure out what buttons to push and the sad looking guy ahead of me just need to buy some damn Ibuprofen and coffee and he looked like he needed it then I finally got home with the Drano and the tub had already drained on its own.

Made some cosmetic changes to the blog, dumped some links I never use...any complaints see the headmistress, she's the one in the leather boots with the whip.

SO, for tonight, I'll watch Lost, then go to bed. Happy? Everyone? Good. More tomorrow. Peace.

Orion Rules!

2005-10-18T22:17:00.000-04:00

Just a few words tonight to meet deadline: hadda go to a "work thing" tonight and shmooze the area glitterati; the food was good, the wine was better than these things usually have. Unfortunately I had to miss Lost which has been intriguing so far and I wanted to see what happened with Walt's dad and the "Others" -- I guess I'll read the recap on the website tomorrow.

Not much to say here; along with the below-mentioned Godland I pulled Orion #'s 11-13 out of the dollar bin at the Comic Book Shop the other day; I am now one issue away from the complete run of one of the few decent spinoffs of Kirby's Fourth World and really probably the best of them all. Walt Simonson, always at home with the gritty and mythic, gives the best take on the Darkseid / Orion relationship I've seen, and these particular issues where Orion masters the long-sought Anti-Life Equation and uses it to subdue both Apokolips and Earth are very exciting. This was a great series start to finish and Simonson is a force to be reckoned with on this kind of material. These three even manage to fit in a nice Billy Batson / Captain Marvel cameo.

I think the first five issues of this series are available in a trade, otherwise you may have to haunt the back issue bins. But I have found overall that the effort is worth it. Too tired to put up scans, maybe tomorrow. And now I am going to bed.

The Torture Never Stops

2005-10-17T20:54:00.000-04:00

The latest issue of Godland, the Lee-Kirby inspired cosmic superhero series, appeared in my box this week, and it was another fun issue; the thing that is terrific about this series is its sense of humor, its lack of self-consciousness (House of M#7 came out this week, too, but you dont see me writing about that, do you?), and its creators' willingness to admit that no, they are not creating a graphic novel or a thinly-disguised film treatment --this is a comic book, and gloriously so. There's even a positive review from Entertainment Weekly on the cover!

Key elements: the hilarious interaction between villains Friedrich Nicklehead and the disembodied Basil Cronus (above); Maxim, the giant Lockjaw-like alien who has information about the hero's cosmic purpose, and hell, giant robots! Tom Scioli is in his element as an artist and it shows. Cool, baby. It's like reading Marvel in the '70's, only on better paper and swear words.

Worth the effort. Get it now before they option it, so you're not a wannabe when the movie comes out. Peace.

Her Majesty's A Pretty Nice Girl

2005-10-17T20:42:00.000-04:00

One of the three Beatles albums of my father's that I ruined from repeated play as a child was Abbey Road; though it never got as much play as the instantly accessible A Hard Day's Night or the mostly fun Sgt. Pepper, I did give it a shot now and again, if only for Octopus's Garden. It is a dense, complicated record -- only later did I understand that one side, the more experimental side with Mean Mr. Mustard and Polythene Pam, was to keep the Yokofied John happy, and the songier other side with Come Together and Oh! Darling was to keep the Lindafied Paul happy; to me it was just weird, way weirder to my ten-year-old ears than Pepper and too much for casual listening. It's still not what I would consider "the" classic Beatle album. Today, my fellow XPN listeners voted it the #1 album of all time, while the one I thought would come in at number one, Sgt. Pepper, came in at #2. Rounding out the top five were Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon at #3, Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run at #4, and Bob Dylan's Blood on the Tracks at #5. I can live with that lineup, especially Bruce and Bob. If you want to see the whole list of 885 albums on the chart, head over to www.xpn.org.

Let's Go Somewhere Where There's Cheese

2005-10-16T19:44:00.000-04:00

If you dont know Wallace and Gromit, the brilliant creation of Aardman Studios, you should start with the original 3 short films produced in the '90's by these geniuses, The Wrong Trousers, A Close Shave, and, uh, the other one. I'm pretty sure they're on DVD at Amazon. Curse of the Were-Rabbit, the new W&G feature film, is very good, though not as good as the original trilogy of short films (two of which won Oscars). Also, despite its apparently kid-friendly ad campaign, there's a lot here that kids will simply not get. W&G has always been a gentle satire of the British by the British that is probably more subtle than American youngsters will be prepared for. But Were-Rabbit still has many charms for all ages, with gentle chuckling humor and tremendous leaps forward in clay animation, almost a lost art. It is definitely an improvement from Aardman's Chicken Run, which appeared to suffer from too much studio involvement; Were-Rabbit seems pure Aardman if a bit diluted, but if this is successful enough to warrant a sequel, I would hope this would give the animators enough confidence with their great comedy team of cheery, dumb Wallace and brilliant, frustrated Gromit to stretch out a bit on the next one. All in all, a fine outing, with nice and blessedly unobtrusive voicings from Helena Bonham Carter (last month's Corpse Bride) and Ralph Fiennes (next month's Harry Potter).

885

2005-10-13T06:45:00.000-04:00

One of the good things about being in the Philly Metroplex is WXPN 88.5 FM, a public (as in pledge breaks) rock and roll radio station; they focus usually on new artists, singer-songwriter types, and other people who sound like they could be in the mainstream but arent. Some of the artists you may have heard of that get a boost from XPN are people like Jason Mraz, Amos Lee, My Morning Jacket, Shelby Lynne, and they produce a daily nationally syndicated show called World Cafe that plays this kind of stuff and has in-studio performances and interviews.

Recently XPN asked listeners to list their top 10 albums of all time, resulting in over 5,000 votes and a list of the 885 greatest albums of all time. It's pretty eclectic - they're up to number 85 and expect to be done playing tracks from the list on Monday the 17th. Lots of music XPN wouldnt normally play -- so far this morning, we've heard Guns and Roses' Appetite for Destruction, Simon and Garfunkel's Bridge Over Troubled Waters, and now the Grateful Dead's Live '72. They've been playing three songs for every album and when they hit the top 25 they will play the whole thing.

In any event, if you want to see what made it on the list, or even (with the properly powerful computer) get the live broadcast feed over the web, go to www.xpn.org. Be warned, they will take every opportunity to make you feel guilty and become a member....this is public radio, y'know.

This Song Is Not A Rebel Song

2005-10-12T19:31:00.000-04:00

I finally figured out tonight what has been bothering me about Bono. A couple weeks ago a friend gave me a copy of the New York Times Magazine with Bono on the cover, with a lengthy article focused mainly on the fact that Bono is apparently saving the world. Now, as a two-decade and longer U2 fan, the size and scope of Bono's ego is no surprise, nor is his commitment to worthy causes and I really dont have a problem with him using his position to influence world opinion or anything, for that matter.

But what has bothered me is something about how Bono has become more important for being Saint Bono than he has for being the lead singer of one of the greatest rocknroll bands in history. Tonight I was watching my LiveAid video (I have my reasons) and watched the boys rip through Sunday Bloody Sunday and Bad and it still brings me to tears. In 1984, with the Joshua Tree and all the other stuff still ahead of them, U2 was the most important thing in the world, but all they wanted to be was a rock an roll band. Now, they're a pretty good rockandroll band, but all they seem to want to be is the most important thing in the world. They havent really put out a decent album since 1990, and though the last two have been pretty good, with flashes of brilliance, they havent hit the heights of the '80's ever again.

So tonight it dawned on me: U2 arent cool anymore. I am so sick of hearing about Bono like he was the pope it isnt funny. This does not mean I want him to stop doing what he does or trying to change the world, hell, we all want to change the world. I'm just sick of Bono being known for changing the world. I want him to be known for being the lead singer of U2.

The short version: in 1984, u2 embodied all the hopes and dreams of everybody who heard them, who cried when they sang Gloria or Sunday Bloody Sunday or Bad....now in 2005, they embody a guy who hangs out with senators and congressmen and has a backup band that he tours with. It should be the other way around.

Or maybe I'm just like the guy who yelled Judas at Bob Dylan and should stop living in the past and get a life. Bono does things like erase world debt and feed the hungry: what am I doing? Still, I cant help but think that if Bono would put more of the energy he puts into those things into producing good music, there wouldnt be any lame tracks on their records, and that's just not the case.

Rant over. I'll read it in the morning and probably think I was nuts. But there you go.

El Motherbox esta en la casa!

2005-10-09T17:11:00.000-04:00

from Seven Soldiers: Mister Miracle #1, November, 2005; script, Grant Morrison; art, Pasqual Ferry. So far so good.

The Space He Invades He Gets By On You

2005-10-09T16:32:00.000-04:00

Well, hallo there, fellow people in the blogosphere (I assumer you're all people) -- the Mole here, much absent of late doing the work of Mundania (ref: Piers Anthony - shaped like Florida - again, why would anybody live there? Bugs, hurricanes, and now alligator-eating exploding Burmese pythons and yes put those search terms into Google and see what you come up with better yet look here: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20051005/ap_on_fe_st/gator_python but dont do it when you are about to eat, rather gruesome Doncha Know?) and dealing with the whole 9th Anniversary of turning 30, as well as the upcoming 15th anniversary of the birth of MoleSon; mortality, slight depression, blah blah how tedious that's all of that for now and forever. On to:

Item: (just housekeeping) If you did not and why didnt you see the Scorsese Dylan thing go get it now or more likely just turn on your local PBS affiliate, from what I can see they are running it nonstop and god help us when when pledge month comes again. But this is worth it. Makes Dylan a human being again, and an interesting one at that.

Item: Currently in the Den we are smoking cigars and drinking brandy and reading Neal Stephenson's Cryptonomicon, which is 900 pages rectangular pages made up of paragraphs like this one:

Epiphyte corp.'s business plan is about an inch thick, neither fat nor skinny as these things go. The interior pages are slickly and groovily desktop-published out of Avi's laptop.The covers are rugged hand-laid paper of rice chaff, bamboo tailings, range hemp, and crystalline glacial meltwater made by wizened artisans operating out of a mist-shrouded temple hewn from living volcanic rock on some island known only to aerobically gifted, Spandex-sheathed Left Coast travel bores. An impressionistic map of the South China been dashed across these covers by molecularly reconstructed Ming Dynasty calligraphers using brushes of combed unicorn mane dipped into ink made of grinding down charcoal slabs fashioned by blind stylite monks from hand-charred fragments of the True Cross.

There are many paragraphs like this one, some longer, some shorter, appearing in many places throughout the book. It is a wild ride, and funny, one which I am only a third of the way through but love every minute of. I have to be careful not to re-read the lengthy plot summary on the inside front cover because I have largely forgotten it from when I first got the book free at the Book Thing and Do Not Want To Know What Happens.

Item: Is anybody else scared that the offspring of Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes might be the Scientology Messiah, come to remove our engrams once and for all and turn us all into people, well, like Tom Cruise and John Travolta and (angels and ministers of grace preserve us) Kirstie Alley? Just think about it, but not before bed time and not after looking at the exploding, gator-eating burmese python explosion.

Item: Bush -- NOW does everybody get it? I wouldnt trust him to bang the erasers together after school for fear he'd need written instructions. What's next? His college baseball coach as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs? His kindergarten teacher as Secretary of Education? I think anybody he likes should be automatically disqualified from everything forever because they have all proven to be criminals, incompetents and whiners. Oh, Hunter, why couldnt you have just waited a few more months? The game is afoot. Release the hounds, they smell blood. Sic semper tyrranis.

Item: We now have 61 cards in the sequence and are heading into the third inner loop. A few are beginning to drop and have been repaired. Once we reach the center we may have to relayer and head into other areas but that seems to be a long way off. We'll keep you posted. You know who you are, and I am watching you.

Item: I am nervous about Wallace and Gromit -- movies with puppets are stinky with death and corruption of late -- Corpse Bride and Team America both technically brilliant but heartless and dull (same with Nightmare before Christmas). Please, Jesus, oh please let us have big larfs at Were-Rabbit, or I will never see another puppet movie again, you just watch me, and I dont make idle threats.

Oh, and thanks Friend, u no hu u r....

Pacem in terris. There'll be more when it occurs to me....

Why, oh, why is this guy not President?

2005-10-06T15:58:00.000-04:00

Read this, please. It's long but worth it. If this doesn't make you scream, it will make you cry. If it doesnt make you do either, then They've Won. Nice knowing you.

http://www.breitbart.com/news/2005/10/06/D8D2IU703.html

Been busy, folks, but I haven't moved out of the hole. More soon, love, the Mole

2005-09-28T20:33:00.000-04:00

Ulla! (1)

2005-09-26T20:29:00.000-04:00

Today, a quick pictureless rant on one of the greatest stories ever told, Jeff Wayne's "The War of the Worlds". Hm? Whats that you say? H.G. Wells wrote "War of the Worlds"? Oh, yes, well, if you're going to get snippy about it, okay, Mr. Wells wrote it. It's still the greatest story of the 20th century. What other story can you think of that a hundred years later it has not one, not two, not three, but four major retellings / reworkings, all of which are classics in their own right? Astounding.

The original, of course, is another Wells masterpiece, and one can only imagine how terrifying it was to Victorian England to read of giant, three-legged Martian machines striding up the Thames, knocking down bridges and setting London afire; malignant red weed growing over everything in its path; no hope, no defense (or "defence") until the tiniest of things, the creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water, defeated the ugly, drippy, leather skinned Martians by catching them a good dose of the flu or something; the Martians, able to leap the depths of interplanetary space, had not thought to immunize themselves before departure.

In '38, of course, another upstart Welles, Orson, scared the living crap out of America by doing the War as a newscast, and created a legend for this Welles he only barely eclipsed with the release of Citizen Kane. Every Halloween since, and probably forever, the story of the Night that Panicked America will be told as a metaphor for something -- communist and/or Nazi fear, something -- and so the second great War of the Worlds became legend.

In the '50's, the genius of George Pal recast the War in "modern" America -- complete with the trashing of Los Angeles and the dropping of The Bomb. As a kid I think I saw the movie about fifteen times, every time it was on TV, and it is suffused with the creeping terrors. I find the ruined, abandoned L.A. sequence compelling to this day, and the menacing flying "tripods" (look for it, they're there) flying out of the ineffective mushroom clouds like the most menacing dinosaurs you've ever seen. It is one of the best of the nuclear nightmare horror films of the decade -- we have this immense power, and we cant control it -- in fact, even more chillingly, the fact is the only thing that can stop our destruction at the hands of this unleashed power is another thing we have no control over -- disease. If the nukes dont get us, the microbes will.

Finally, though, the War of the Worlds that has captivated me for years (by the way, I havent seen the Spielberg one yet, because, well, I'm still mad at him for setting it in the present day and not making the aliens Martians somehow) is the aforementioned Jeff Wayne version. I'm still not entirely sure who Jeff Wayne was, but he created the weirdest hybrid album that works I have ever heard: an 80-minute, rock/disco opera featuring members of the Moody Blues and Thin Lizzy, narrated by Richard Burton, telling the original late-Victorian War of the Worlds -- the Wells version, which I hope that somebody in the next 20 or 30 or so decides to make into a film, cuz it still hasnt been done -- it shouldnt work, but it does, and almost 25 years after I first heard it, I still love it.

The night I first heard it is one of the most vivid memories of my childhood. This is one of those stories, children, in the days before the internet, before CD's, before MTV, before cable, before even most video games. This was 1978 (or so). There was one shopping mall in Portland -- it's no longer there - known as Eastport Plaza.

There wasn't much there to hold my interest, except maybe HK Limited, a bookstore / office supply store where I might score some decent sci-fi paperbacks on occasion. There was also one of those weird little record store-cum-head shop places called "DJ's Sound City" in and among the Hallmarks and whatever else was there. On this particular night, we went to do, oh, heck, I dont know, and I went along because, well, that's what you did with your parents back then, you went along.

I was always just a tad scared when I would venture into DJ's -- there were records there with names and covers that I knew I, as a young Church of God boy, should not see (anybody remember the Ohio Players?), and there was an air of menace among the probably harmless teenage and young adult staff that I probably largely created because, well, they worked in a place with blacklight felt marijuana posters on the walls.

This night was different; tonight there was Something Going On; a hustle and bustle around the front of the store, and (whoa!) posters in the windows of some record called the War of the Worlds with the whole tripod thing blowing up a ship and holy moley maybe they're going to do something with this....

Next: Hippies and Martians

The Mole: 6

2005-09-23T21:20:00.000-04:00

My Evidence for Intelligent Design...

2005-09-23T20:19:00.000-04:00

...is also this week's episode of....

Okay, so today I was reading an article on a Federal Court Case in Pennsylvania where a judge appointed by Bush will be ruling on whether a school board was wrong in forcing science teachers to offer alternative information to evolution, namely, the theory of intelligent design.

As I read this, this latest salvo in the fundamentalist attack on rational thought made me suddenly think that this whole idea of an outside forces directly causing man to walk the earth has been explored before.

(By the way, this whole evolution vs. creationism argument is really based in fundamentalist fear that those of us who dont agree with them think they are stupid. Well, let me go on record as saying, Yes, They Are Stupid, They Are Dumb As a Box of Hammers.)

In any event, while this has all been addressed by our friend the Flying Spaghetti Monster (see link, right) but it was addressed much earlier for me by the King Himself, Jack Kirby. The proof is, as usual, in his greatest comic book work of the '70's, the Eternals. Now that's some serious Intelligent Design!!!

From Eternals #1, 1975 (click for larger images):

From Eternals #4, 1975:

2005-09-22T21:18:00.000-04:00

A Little More Than Kin, and Less Than Kind

2005-09-21T19:55:00.000-04:00

Man, I wish I coulda seen that! Who says the theater's dead? I see Jackie Chan for the movie...

I'd Like To Help You Son But You're Too Young To Vote

2005-09-21T19:26:00.000-04:00

Okay, so, I was talking to my son on the phone and went to pick up this little glass snowglobe thing that was sitting next to my air conditioner (thankfully back on after the fuse blew again and this time there werent any to get out of the basement of the other apartment building but thats another story dont get me started) and the little globe shattered, spreading teeny tiny and nearly invisible shards of glass all over my kitchen "area" and cutting my middle finger in two places so now I have enough bandaids on my hand to make it look like a major laceration but at least the bleeding stopped; this is how the day ends that started with me forgetting to take my watch with me to work.

But that's not what I wanted to write about.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is one of those things I am interested in but somewhat ambivalent about; after all, there are plenty of artists that I personally believe are very much worthy of inclusion (Rush tops the list, again, dont get me started, see below -- oh, yeah, and Warren Zevon) but no self-respecting rock "historian" as the voters for Hall membership are called would ever put them down on their list. Then there are those who are inducted and I cannot for the life of me figure out why -- Bob Seger? Dont get me wrong, I love Bob, he's done some classic stuff -- but does he go in the pantheon with Little Richard, the Stones, Elvis, U2? I just dont see it, but apparently a good chunk of the Hall's 70 "historians" did. Go figure.

So today they released this year's list of nominees, which the historians will vote on for inclusion, to be announced in December. I actually think this is a pretty good group, and maybe a last gasp for these nominees before some of the great groups and artists of the '80's (R.E.M. tops the list in two years) start hogging the limelight. Here are my mercifully brief thoughts:

Iggy and the Stooges: Dont know much about the Ig-man but he seems to be very influential in the punk world, a role model to many who followed after. If voted in, I will give him a pass.

Grandmaster Flash: Yes, yes, a thousand times yes -- the first rappers to really talk about the Hood in political terms and harrowing images; the forebears of Public Enemy and so many others. Absolutely. The Hall will do history a great disservice if rap is not prominently included.

John Mellencamp: No. Love the Little Bastard, but he is the latest in a long line of others (including Bob Seger!) who followed in the footsteps of the Boss. As much as I have been a fan, I dont really think he deserves to be in the Hall.

Miles Davis: Mmmm....hard to say. Certainly influential in attitude, intensity, and insistence on his own personal vision, but not sure if he really belongs in the Rock Hall. I will abstain on Miles, but if you put a gun to my head and made me make a decision, I think I would vote no.

Blondie: Absolutely -- still influential; I think Rolling Stone made the point that the Killers's "Mr. Brightside" is a reworking of "Dreaming"; bands like the Yeah Yeah Yeahs, the Donnas, the Killers, and so many others who've tried to walk that pop-punk line owe it all to Blondie. A definite yes.

Cat Stevens: No. Love Cat, one of my favorites, but I dont see his lasting influence any more than a number of other major song writers of the '70's -- I put him in the same school as Jackson Browne, Warren Zevon, the whole school of laid-back folky singer songwriters. He's special, but not that special.

The Patti Smith Group: Again, a lack of knowledge here, though I understand her influence on what happened with the punk scene. I would tend toward Yes but solely on the basis of reputation and a few songs. And the fact that she said the F-word live on network television, on purpose.

The Sex Pistols: What has taken so long to put the Pistols in? The chronology goes: Velvets, Iggy, Dolls, Pistols, and then everything else. There is nobody who calls themself a punk today who doesnt owe it all to the Pistols, and it doesnt take acres of Greil Marcus gobbledy gook to figure it out.

Lynyrd Skynyrd: No. The Allman Brothers did it first and did it best; I think Skynyrd's rep is mostly nostalgia and a few good songs.

Black Sabbath: There are two progenitors of heavy metal, one is Zeppelin, the other is Sabbath. I do not personally like Sabbath and would not vote for them -- however it will not surprise me if they are voted in because they have been tremendously influential over a whole host of musicians -- and if you want proof turn on MTV2 Saturday night at 10.

Dave Clark Five: No. Talented, but essentially a lower grade Beatles.

J. Geils Band: Uhm, a lack of knowlege here other than the tail end in the '80's. Based on Freeze Frame, Centerfold and all that I wouldnt put them in, but their earlier output may warrant. I would vote no.

Chic: Probably yes -- a forebear of rap, of Prince, of so much great dance music. But once we put them in, lets cut off the disco entries. That should about do it.

Joe Tex and the Sir Douglas Quintet -- and now we come to the end of my knowledge of this year's nominees. These two I will abstain and let wiser old hippies prevail. In the meantime, we shall all watch and wait and see who makes it in this year, and check back against my scorecard in December.

Please Bow Your Heads With Me

2005-09-18T22:04:00.000-04:00

http://www.heygod.org/

Courtesy of Metafilter -- see link to your immediate right (my left). No, your right -- over there. I'm sitting behind the screen, so it's my left, your right. Think stage left. That's what bicameral minds are for. There you go. Excellent! Proof of Intelligent Design right there. I am sure the Flying Spaghetti Monster (also see link -- ah, ah -- remember, your right, my left! Excellent) will not feel slighted by your prayer to another deity.

Me, I'm going to bed. Remember, the Mole loves you all, no matter how ludicrous your belief system is.

Dreamers Learn To Steer By The Stars

2005-09-15T20:13:00.000-04:00

Last night I was lurking about on the Internet, and on a website that shall remain nameless I downloaded an mp3 of Rush's song "The Pass": its an older song, from their 1989 album "Presto", an album which is otherwise a blank to me. I just remember this song, and the impact it had on me at the time. As with so many Rush songs, it struck a chord in me that no other band, no matter how much I love them, has been able to do.

The song has as usual, terrific lyrics from drummer Neil Peart. It is, apparently, one friend trying to coax another down from killing himself -- but not in a sappy way, like some might. They are actually pretty tough lyrics. The singer tells the friend he has nobody to blame but himself: he doesnt like life because his view of life is unrealistic, not because life has cheated him.

Proud swagger out of the schoolyard
Waiting for the world's applause
Rebel without a conscience
Martyr without a cause...

...And now you're trembling on a rocky ledge
Staring down into a heartless sea
Can't face life on a razor's edge
Nothing's what you thought it would be

Hearing this song again last night and today, it still speaks to me just as it did fifteen years ago when I heard it -- in fact, I saw Rush on the Presto tour, and except for a lousy REM concert ten years ago and Green Day last week, it was the last rock concert I went to. Then, I was a very young man making some very hard decisions, and not making them very well, and the song seemed at the same time to challenge the decisions I made and comfort me that the bad times do not last forever. The bridge and chorus of the song are brilliant:

All of us get lost in the darkness
Dreamers learn to steer by the stars
All of us do time in the gutter
Dreamers turn to look at the cars
Turn around and turn around and turn around
Turn around and walk the razor's edge
Don't turn your back
And slam the door on me

Now, nearing 40 and feeling in many ways just as confused by the decisions around me as the 24-year-old me did, the song speaks to me again. It speaks to a part of me that Rush has always spoken to, to be honest, the same part that they grabbed when I was 14 -- the part that dreams, the part that has ideas and visions, the part that looks at the night sky and wants to go flying, the part that loves the ocean. The part that spent three hours scrambling around on the rocks of the Brandywine River last Saturday, watching the carp float gently in the summer-depleted river: they seemed to say, stand still, wait, do not be impatient -- life will float to you in its time. It's the part of me I am trying to figure out how to reawaken.

It has never been easy to be a Rush fan, primarily from the standpoint that most of the time when you would read a review of their albums in the mainstream press, they were belittled and even joked about. They were a band for stoners and geeks. Well, so be it, I fall into the geek category. They write about technology and politics and myth and mystery and mixed it all up long before cyberpunk, the Matrix, and the internet even existed. They were the rock band for every kid who wanted to be Luke Skywalker, read the X-Men, or thought Alien was the greatest movie ever made. They were smarter than 90% of the bands out there and were true to their own vision.

So, I am glad to finally have The Pass in my audio library again; it is one of those most perfect meldings of Geddy Lee's bass and vocals, Alex Lifeson's guitars, and Neil Peart's time-defying drumming ever, right up there with all of 2112, The Analog Kid, Marathon, Time Stand Still -- when the chorus kicks in, you want to open up your arms and fly. I am sure you can get it on Itunes -- go check it out. Peace.

September 15

2005-09-15T20:08:00.000-04:00

"Why have I been longing for you? Why have I been thirsting for you all these days, and just now? ...Because it's only to you I can tell everything; because I must, because I need you, because to-morrow I shall fly from the clouds, because to-morrow life is ending and beginning. Have you ever felt, have you ever dreamt of falling down a precipice into a pit? That's just how I'm falling, but not in a dream. And I'm not afraid, and don't you be afraid. At least, I am afraid, but I enjoy it. It's not enjoyment though, but ecstasy. Damn it all, whatever it is! A strong spirit, a weak spirit, a womanish spirit - what, ever it is! Let us praise nature: you see what sunshine, how clear the sky is, the leaves are all green, it's still summer; four o'clock in the afternoon and the stillness!"

--Dostoevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

"It is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be a reason the more for us to do it. To love is good, too: love being difficult. For one being to love another: that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation."

-Rainier Maria Rilke

Happy Monday

2005-09-12T06:34:00.000-04:00

"When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag, carrying a cross." --Sinclair Lewis (1935)

Thanks to the cleverly frightening and frighteningly clever folks at:

http://www.oldamericancentury.org/galleries.htm AND

http://bulldogpolitics.blogspot.com/

Like A Zipgun On Parade: Green Day Live at the Wachovia Center, Philadelphia, September 7, 2005

2005-09-10T16:40:00.000-04:00

While the Moms and Brads are away....

"This is totally not what I expected," said the father of the 10-ish year old girl who sat behind us at Wednesday night's Green Day show at the Wachovia Center in Philly. "I expected lots of leather and spiked hair and chains. This is like family night."

True, very true: I too had expected a sea of kids in black clothing and red ties and mascara; truth be told, I dont think I saw anybody dressed like Billie Joe Armstrong, Green Day's punkily puckish lead singer/guitarist, which struck me as odd. What I saw were a lot of parents (like me) bringing their teenage and not-too-but-somewhat-rebellious kids to the show.

I have liked Green Day since they first hit the scene a decade or so ago. Their first major album, Dookie, kept the rebellious teenage stance of the best of punk but managed to have incredible pop melodies that you could hum along to. Certainly they were the most "bleeped" top 40, Grammy winning band I had heard, but I liked them. Later, like everybody else, I loved their life-affirming semi-ballad "Time of Your Life". They were a good band - not classic, but great. And, to be honest, they seemed to drop off the radar -- so when my son started raving about them last year when their album American Idiot came out, I was completely surprised.

Rage and Love

American Idiot is one of that trickiest of sub-genres in popular music, the rock opera. Usually they, well, suck. AI has a plot, one that takes some lyric reading to put together; it has characters. Essentially, it is the story of a kid called the Jesus of Suburbia, an angry suburban teenager in Bush's America, largely left alone by his divorced parents, who appears (again, this is my interp - apparently Billie Joe has a film treatment making the rounds, so we'll see) to gather something of a following around himself, only to find his status as a leader of subdivision kids is not enough. Around him, parents lie, Presidents start bad wars, and everything is constantly called into question.

Jesus leaves for the big city looking for some kind of redemption and reinvents himself as a gang leader/rabble rouser named St. Jimmy and falls in love with another rebel girl referred to as Whatsername. Jimmy apparently gets involved with drugs and a host of other things that ruin his life even further; Whatsername leaves him, and eventually he finds his way back home to the 'burbs, wiser for the experience and reflective on his life and relationship.

Or something. Anyway, thats what I think.

In any event, American Idiot is a flat-out, start-to-finish great album, which a year later we are still listening to and I dont get tired of. It is one of the best rock albums I have ever heard, at times blisteringly hard and caustic; at other times achingly sad and wistful. Green Day --which, by the way, is a trio, including the aforementioned Mr. Armstrong, bassist Mike Dirnt, and drummer Tre Cool--throws out the rulebook on punk and allows Beatle-esque songs, arena-ready singalongs, and a couple of five-part, nine-minute songs that are the high points of the record.

For the MoleSon, Green Day is a religion at the moment, so when the opportunity to get really good tickets for him arose back in April I took it and kept my mouth shut. We ventured forth this past Wednesday to the Wachovia Center to pay respects.

I Got A Rock and Roll Band

I expected the crowd to be 28,000 teenagers and 2,000 parents, and that's probably about right, but I expected the teens to look more sullen and cranky. Didnt happen. To be honest, I was grateful.

After a good but not particularly involving opening set from up and comers Jimmy Eat World, Green Day promptly took the stage a few minutes after 8:00 blasting the strains of Also Sprach Zarathustra (aka the 2001 "bom, bom, bom BOM BOM" music) and ripped right into American Idiot, the brilliant 9-minute opus Jesus of Suburbia, and the "anti-war not anti-America" hit single Holiday. It was an excellent start, especially for those of us hoping this would be one of the intermittent shows on this tour where they play the entire American Idiot album, start to finish. They didn't but it was a welcome opening nonetheless.

Never have I seen more pyrotechnics, explosions, and lighting effects than at this show, which got a bit tiresome after awhile. Billie Joe Armstrong has obviously taken to playing enormous arenas, running back and forth from one end of the stage to the other and screaming "Philadelphia!!!" at least 35 times over the next two hours. He has a real charisma but unfortunately (and the fifteen year old worshipper with me concurred) they spent way too much time during the show doing goofy audience participation stuff and unnecessary (and unfunny) jokes. With all the shenanigans, they could have easily added another two or three (or more) songs to the lineup, especially for a band whose catalog is largely made up of 2 minute songs.

Still, these are ultimately minor sour grapes. Green Day is a great live band and put on 3/4 of a great show. Dirnt and Cool are one of the best hard rock rhythm units ever, as far as I'm concerned, right up there with Alex + Mike and Geddy + Neil (shame on you if you have to ask). They ended up doing about half of American Idiot (also including Wake Me Up When September Ends, Are We The Waiting, St. Jimmy, and Boulevard of Broken Dreams) and good selection of their greatest hits - including Longview, She, Maria, and Basket Case, among others.

They closed the show with Queen's We Are The Champions, and Billie Joe did a solo electric take on Good Riddance (Time of Your Life). All in all, on a scale of 1-10, with 10 being the best concert you've ever been to (for me, u2's Rattle and Hum concerts in Tempe, Arizona, December, 1987) and the worst concert you've ever been to (Pink Floyd with no Roger Waters, Seattle Kingdome, December, 1987), this would be about a 7.5-8.

Can You Hear Me Whining?

I always wonder when bands reinvent themselves and hit it big like this, what they will do next. I am certainly hopeful that Green Day will not turn into just another arena band and lose the subtleties and wry humor they have always put into their music. I have recently read they have no intention of rushing into the next record and I applaud them for that; they are one of the best rock bands out there and I would hate to see them disappear again.

When I hear Green Day-wannabe bands like My Chemical Romance (a very good band) say their next album will be more "arena friendly" I cringe for fear they will dump what made them so interesting in the first place. I dont think Green Day set out to make an arena-rock record with Idiot - it just turned out that way.

Everybody take a lesson from bands like System of a Down who are on a ride down a particular road and have invited us to come along -- as opposed to those who pick us up and then ask us for directions. Your instincts for your music are much better, usually, than ours - take the time to listen to them. We'll still be here.

Don't want to be an American idiot.

One nation controlled by the media.

Information age of hysteria.

It's going out to idiot America.

When In The Course of Human Events....

2005-09-10T08:19:00.000-04:00

http://impeachbushcoalition.blogspot.com/

Exterminate the brutes. Join us, won't you?

Touched By His Noodly Appendage

2005-09-08T21:28:00.000-04:00

I have at last found my religion here: http://www.venganza.org/index.htm

Stay tuned -- a review of last night's other religious experience (at least for my son) coming soon -- Green Day's Sept. 7 concert in Philadelphia. Watch this space.

"...And One Will Fall"

2005-09-05T21:00:00.000-04:00

Sometime in late 1974 or early '75, just after the Mole's eighth birthday, he and his father stopped off at what we called "The Little Store" on 82nd Avenue in Milwaukie, Oregon, just before the intersection with Harmony to get bread, milk, whatever. There was a magazine rack just inside the door, and on the bottom rack were always comic books -- never consistent, as I would learn, from week to week, but the few comics I would buy over the years at the Little Store were key ones -- Kamandi #22 and OMAC #5 among them -- but this night in particular set the dominoes falling.

That night, I asked my dad for a quarter so I could buy the first comic book (not counting some handmedown Archies in kindergarten) I ever owned, and that started the long winding road that 30 years later I have still managed to be on: that comic book was The Amazing Spider-Man #140. How could you refuse that cover? It looked like Spidey would grab onto you if you didnt take it along.

Reading that comic book, I had almost no knowledge whatsoever of Spiderman, or Gwen Stacy, Harry Osborn, MJ Watson, J. Jonah Jameson or even ever-lovin' Aunt May. Actually, re-reading this issue now, one could not pick a better intro (for the time) into the Spiderman universe; in fact, there was no Green Goblin backstory, no massive story arc other than the mystery of the Jackal, who he was and why he wanted Spidey so bad -- it was, and is, just a great issue start to finish, and a fine example of what is now called Bronze-Age Marvel Comics storytelling -- lots of detail, footnotes referring you to previous issues, flashbacks well-embedded into the story. No decompression here, Mr. Bendis! Lots of words, lots of information, and to top it all off, a guy who climbs walls, cracks jokes, and can shoot webbing out of his hands, fercripessake.

Our story: the Jackal had with him one of these big-lug-goon type henchmen working for him, the Grizzly, who for some reason wanted to kill J. Jonah Jameson. The Jackal is interested in killing Spiderman, so they kidnap Peter Parker, who appears to know the webhead and is constantly getting these great photos of the hero. Knocking Petey out, they attach an arm-thing that will track Peter wherever he goes, and explode if he tries to take it off. Petey has to think -- in the meantime he goes and rents an apartment with old buddy Flash Thompson and meets his hot fashion model neighbor, Glory Grant, who would remain a mainstay in the Spidey comics for years to come. That night, Peter decides to wing over to the NYU science lab and try to take the arm thing off, because otherwise he can never be Spidey again. In a remarkably tense but ultimately anticlimactic scene, it turns out the Jackal didnt count on the fact that Pete knows his way around a lab, and Spidey chucks the offending device into the Hudson.

So, without other clues, the webslinger heads off to visit J. Jonah and find out why the old creep would have a giant guy in a bear suit trying to kill him. Turns out the Grizzly was a wrestler who Jonah ruined in the Daily Bugle years ago, trying to get revenge. Spidey does some Batman-style detective work and ultimately finds out the Jackal gave the Grizzly an exoskeleton (a popular device in Marvel Comics of the '70's -- see Ben Grimm) to make him more powerful. Spidey rips the suit off the guy, revealing him as an out of shape has-been, who is easily taken apart. See you next month!

(Whatever happened to Ross Andru? What a great artist, I almost never hear him mentioned.)

I think I read this comic about a million times before it finally disintegrated into dust and paper. Recently at the Comic Book Shop (where the Mole shops for comics - see link) a 50% off sale allowed me to repurchase the book and now it sits here with the other memorabilia. I think I read Spiderman consistently for at least another six years, till I hit high school and didnt want to buy comics anymore. But the magic of this issue, the complexity, the sense of being part of another world, a special world that only some people got to be part of, is what drew me to Marvel -- within a few years I had stacks of Marvel and even owned Stan Lee's Origins books and anything else I could get my hands on. Comics led to science fiction led to movies led to music -- all of the things that I have loved over my life started in part with Spiderman #140. I have to say I'm glad to know there's still something of that 8-year-old in me -- I've re-read this issue at least five times since getting it.

I Went To The Woods Because I Wanted To Work At Sotheby's

2005-09-05T10:05:00.000-04:00

An interesting little blog from a British guy in his early '20's who works at Sotheby's in London and has decided to spend a year dead for tax reasons (oops, no, sorry, that's Hitchhikers Guide). Actually, with every prospect of success before him, he is living in an English ditch for a year to see what happens, and posting his reactions and adventures here. I still havent figured out where he keeps his suits.

Link to the right or go here: http://ditchmonkey.blogspot.com

Today's Hyperbole Corner: Dead and Deader

2005-09-05T09:53:00.000-04:00

Courtesy of a couple of those clever advertising postcards one may pick up in independent record stores:

COBRA NOIR has unleashed its fury on the dead and the living. Fast and heavy, the hammering sound of this Canadian band is an assault without remorse. Contiuing the work that previous Canadian hardcore/punk bands began more than a decade ago, COBRA NOIR combines ferocious live performances with unsettling political lyrics.

I think we have achieved total heaviosity -- Woody Allen.
For more on this new album, Abode of the Dead, go to: www.cyclop-online.com (Only fair, I suppose.)

Lost Hunger is a haunting tale of a young woman Daenara and her unrelenting struggle to piece together her dark past. Venturing deep into the darkness of that world, she finds herself within the arms of a vampire. Seduced by his power and passion she finds herself embraced by a darkness, which exceeds her every fantasy. However within this darkness lies an evil, which waits patiently to rise up against Daenara. For her the battle has barely begun and the blood will surely never wash from her hands.

Who knew there was so much space in a vampire's arm? Are there no bones, no muscles? Also, exactly how dark is a fantasy about darkness, and then how dark would an actual darkness have to be to exceed your fantasy about darkness? Inquiring minds want to know. Find out more (again, only fair) at: www.losthunger.com (Lost Hunger? Does that mean you're full, or that you had a hunger here a minute ago and.....)

A New Circle In Hell

2005-09-01T15:34:00.000-04:00

An old man in a chaise lounge lay dead in a grassy median as hungry babies wailed around him. Around the corner, an elderly woman lay dead in her wheelchair, covered with a blanket, and another body lay beside her wrapped in a sheet.

"I don't treat my dog like that," 47-year-old Daniel Edwards said as he pointed at the woman in the wheelchair. "I buried my dog." He added: "You can do everything for other countries but you can't do nothing for your own people. You can go overseas with the military but you can't get them down here."

--Yahoo News / New Orleans

The Mole: 6

2005-08-29T19:09:00.000-04:00