Phantom Utility, Post Humanism, & The Immortal Capitalist

As seen in The Skeleton News #17-

In 1950 NBC debuted a show called 'The Hank McCune Show' which wasn't anything exceptionally funny by standards. However it had something that hadn't been done in television before; a laugh track. Variety noted of the innovation: "There are chuckles and yocks dubbed in. Whether this induces a jovial mood in home viewers is still to be determined, but the practice may have unlimited possibilities if it's spread to include canned peals of hilarity, thunderous ovations and gasps of sympathy." Laugh tracks had already been used in radio shows of the 40's but incorporating the idea into television had a different context. Listening to the radio one might not think to question whether people were actually at the event but on television, a relatively new medium at the time, the visual context could detract from the spectacle and bring into question whether or not an audience was allowed to attend the filming. As it would become customary for many shows to invite audiences to the taping of the shows, many participants had their responses recorded and were often coaxed into how they should react to certain parts of the show. From deep hardy laughs and mild snickers to "ooohs" and "aahhhhs" all were recorded to be used again during the editing of a show or for other programs. This process is called "sweetening".
Invented by television engineer Charles Douglass in the early 50's, the 'Laff Box' became one of the most important tools for sitcom producers. Throughout the fifties the use of 'canned laughter' would become more prevalent as studios eventually didn't even have room for real audiences to attend tapings on the sound stages. And besides this, many sitcoms of the sixties began to rely on "fantasy effects" for gags. Shows such as Bewitched where people would disappear or turn into other things or shows such as The Addams Family where a hand (Thing) would pop up from different areas to shock visitors and get a laugh in doing so couldn't achieve the same effect if they would have to stop all action to film their special effects by simply moving someone from a scene. Sitcoms began to borrow movie magic and to do so the audience couldn't be there.
The company Glen Glen Sound refined the process of laugh tracks and dominated the industry across the board. Many of the same laughs can be heard on sitcoms of the time despite network or production studio because of this. Most of the recordings Glen Glen used were culled from studio audiences attending The Lucy Show for its sight gags and The Red Skelton Show because of Red's weekly pantomime skits that had no dialogue at all. Engineers listened for all sorts of distinctive reactions from audience members that were recorded very cleanly. Things such as whistling and heavy laughing were golden. Afterward, these collected laughs were put into a laugh machine.
The laugh machine was a sort of organ like device that stood around 28 inches and had ten horizontal and four vertical keys. At the base was a foot pedal that would sustain laughter for as long as it needed to go. The engineer of the laugh machine orchestrates the tracks in accordance with the kind of laughing and reaction they want. They would choose from type, sex, and age while using the foot pedal to determine the length of the laughing. Over time new kinds of laughs would be installed, some taken away forever, and many left out only to be used again in years to come. Many tracks were never retired at all and can still be heard on more contemporary sitcoms such as Seinfeld, Fraiser, and Everybody Loves Raymond. Most of these tracks are kept in tape vaults at Todd-AO in Hollywood.
By the later '70s, many stidos opted to bring back the element of the studio audience. Shows such as All In The Family and Happy Days had live audience members whose laughs can be heard but were "peppered" with "looser" relaxed group laughs that were also used on shows without audiences such as The Love Boat and Eight Is Enough. Not many "laugh men" have come forward to discuss how they decided on laughs or how the process was done for television. Just as Charles Douglass himself, it seems that it's an industry secret among an elite group of people.
The addition of hearing others have a response to laughter or other emotions increases the chances that the execution receives the intended response from viewers at home. This is arguably either because of "conformity pressure" or as Robert Provine, a Professor of Psychology at The University of Maryland claims, we have a "laugh detector" built into our brains. That hearing laughter from another will automatically cause a similar response. Studies have shown that subjects who were told a series of jokes found them more funny when followed by a laugh track.
The popular television show M*A*S*H caused debate between the CBS executives and the shows creator, Larry Gelbart, when Gelbart refused to use a laugh track. He said that he wanted to do the entire show without a laugh track, "...just like the actual Korean War." CBS came to agree on the terms that they wouldn't use laugh tracks in operating room scenes. Some syndicated versions of the show omitted the laugh track entirely and now the DVD releases have an option for the viewer to watch the series with or without the laugh track. Previous to this in 1961, producer Ross Bagdasarian created a show called 'The Alvin Show' and had also refused to use a laugh track. Bagdasarian claimed that if the show was funny then the audience didn't have any reason to be prompted to laugh. After only one season the show was cancelled. The Alvin Show may have genuinely not been funny enough to gain viewers attention but is it merely a coincidence that the show didn't survive without a laugh track?
Whether or not it's a biological impulse or a socially constructed obligation, is difficult to say. But what of the people who were recorded and used unknowingly for years? Continuously laughing at jokes they will have never heard, feeling compassion for characters they've never been introduced to, and never having any say in the matter. It's the old debate about the ghost in the machine. This is especially relevant considering the age of the internet and communications and how much involvement people have on an individual basis with these things. People of the technologically advanced west can virtually exist as a screen name, author of a blog post, character in Second Life, or random seller on eBay.com. Nonetheless, ours is still a culture obsessed with authorship. So, were these people's essence being taken from them to be enslaved in recordings for years to come without their knowledge?
Fiction writer Harlan Ellison wrote a short story entitled, 'Laugh Track' that dealt with this idea. The story is about a television writer who believes to hear his dead Aunt Babe in a laugh track due to her distinctive laugh he'd heard growing up. Eventually he realizes that her voice had degenerated and left an electronic imprint on the tape. As the story drifts into more of a fantasy, the writer discovers his aunt to be trapped in sort of a limbo between worlds forced to laugh at terrible sitcoms. So he sets out to discover the "Phantom Sweetener" in an attempt to free Aunt Babe. Though this example may seem a little extreme, the fact is that Charles Douglass was very secretive about his methods in designing the original 'Laff Box' and took many secrets about it with him to his grave, and in effect, was somewhat of a phantom sweetener himself. But this of course is not to say that people don't want to be trapped forever. That is, to create some sense of 'legacy'.

****************************

Humans seem to have a distinct desire to live beyond death and implement all sorts of measures to do so. Whether it's carving one's name into a tree, writing a book, signing a painting, or maybe even being recorded, people have historically had an impulse to maintain their memory postmortem. Why else would anyone spend thousands of dollars on a funeral and a tombstone with the deceased's name engraved on it? Ancestors, ancients, and grandparents; they're all remembered and held dear to the living as teachers, and often achieving a larger than life status. This is arguably a bi-product of a hyper capitalist society that places so much emphasis on the individual where for many survival is expected and not the main objective of daily life. Even many of the poorest people of America could be considered better off than most people alive today. This isn't to diminish the fact that America has it's fair share of problems, nor is it to say other cultures don't have elaborate last rites at a loved one's passing but that maybe America has a unique take on it.
Examples of 'legacy' are all around us in everyday life. Often it's the product of modernism attempting to co-opt the deceased and market the idea of the person. Jack Kerouac has been used to sell khakis for The Gap, Einstein is he very embodiment of genius, and Elvis is everything from collectors plates and t-shirts, to teddy bears and Christmas tree ornaments. The only difference between what's become of these iconic characters and those recorded for laugh tracks is the stamp of authorship. So does that dilute their essence? It's not very likely that anyone recorded for those tracks was aware of how they would be used for so many years to come. And if they did, they probably didn't give thought to the idea of forever laughing at what they wouldn't know.
Kate Soper writes, "...humanism is viewed not as progressive but reactionary, on account of the manner in which it appeals (positively) to the notion of a core humanity or common essential feature in terms of which human beings can be defined and understood." Therefore it's no surprise that people put so much effort into designing alternate personalities for themselves via the internet through means of role playing games and chat rooms. The success of these new forms of media are the addictive qualities they have. It's fairly common for people who frequently play online games or simulations to neglect their real world lives. In a society that caters to the ideas of certain expectations of success and body image, escapism comes as no surprise.

:::::Celluloid::::: - CHOKE

With the success of 1998's Fight Club, the latest adaptation of a Chuck Phaliniuk novel to the big screen has a lot to live up to. However, rather than try and cater solely to the expectations of Fight Club's fans, first time director Clark Greg took Choke in a different direction. The film plays up the story's humor more than Fight Club, but while less dark is still effective on another level.
Choke is the story of sex addicted Victor Mancini, played by Sam Rockwell. Victor spends his days working at a colonial theme park as an Irish indentured servant alongside his best friend Denny played by Brad William Henke. Both Denny and Victor attend sex-aholic group classes to discuss their problems. The film highlights that the people attending these classes aren't limited to people with seemingly deep psychological problems but can be the people you see everyday.
Victor's mother Ida Mancini, played by Anjelica Hutston, is confined to a pricey women's mental health facility. The inhabitants are primarily elderly women who suffer delusions and harass Victor every time he visits his mother, accusing him of molesting them, breaking their hearts, and ultimately convinced of something more ridiculous.
Recently I had an interview with Rockwell about working on Choke.

WS- Were you a fan of Chuck Phaliniuk's books before reading the script for this film?

SR- I wasn't. I loved Fight Club. I read the script to Choke and then I read the book. Choke is the only one I've read but chuck's an amazing writer. He's very descriptive. it helps as an actor. He's also a very smart guy and just really cool. The fans were really pressuring but he was very hands off and just let us make the film.

WS- The subject of sex addiction isn't really a topic that people talk about or one that most people would take seriously. Michael Douglas was reportedly admitted to rehab for it once before and just as of recent so was David Duchovny. I know that you attended some sex addiction classes to witness what it was like first hand. Did you gain a new perspective from doing this?

SR- All I had to say was my name is Sam and I'm a sex addict. My name's Sam and I'm questioning things. Something very ambiguous like that. I didn't want to get too personal. They go there to be heard and talk about their problems and it's a personal place. It's very intense. Sex addiction is a pretty serious disorder. I think anything anything compulsive can turn into an addiction.

WS- On a little more of a humorous note, did you spend any time researching neo-colonial theme parks?

SR- I didn't have the time to do it and I really wanted to do that. we saw some pictures of those people and they all looked like hippies. The stuff in the book is so good. The sex addiction was required research though.

WS- The choking at restaurants in the film plays a back drop to the sex addiction but I think its equally interesting. Its purpose is sort of a reflection to the random detached sex. With the choking, there is an intention to scheme money from rich people who seek to feel better about themselves through saving the life of another. But there's also the point Victor makes about the moment of embrace by a stranger that's a really intimate exchange. In this very dysfunctional way, Victor is a balanced person.

SR- It's all about gaining intimacy and the sex addiction. Its all about intimacy. He has the same goal with both things.

WS- With it being Clark Greg's first film, did things go relatively smoothly or no?

SR- He's been an actor for a long time so he has that experience. Sometimes with first time directors there's a way to talk to them about things they might not know about but because Clark's an actor, I think he knew things that many first time directors might not know.

WS- Anjelica Huston does an amazing job as Victor's mother, Ida Mancini. She really carries the delusional mother role well. Did you spend a lot of time with her to get a good personal dynamic for the movie?

SR- Anjelica Huston has such a fresh point of view. She's not jaded at all. She seems like a student but she's a veteran. She seems like she's always learning and she's younger than her years in that way.

WS- How did you find yourself in this role?

SR- I came on late. I was probably on a long list of actors he'd probably gone to before me. It's a particular kind of part. I could see Robert Downey Jr. playing the role. It's a certain tone of character.

Back On...

Okay so the past month and a half have been pretty hectic from me. Death in the family, quit my job, edited a newspaper, saw Dark Knight, and put on another Fantasy Friday party. BUT I'm back on and will be writing regularly again hopefully!

::::Celluloid:::: - Indiana Jones & The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull

Due to a busy schedule I missed the hype wagon that is the new Indiana Jones movie. Usually when an event of this magnitude and importance occurs I'm devoutly at the midnight screening (i.e. all of the new Star Wars movies, Spider-Man, Batman, etc...) to be the first to have the glory that is Hollywood genius touch my eyeballs first. Before the ignorant public can corrupt such an artistic vision with it's critical folly:

"...everything is new and nothing is new."
-Entertainment Weekly

"...the film is about letting go of the past and choosing a happy future. It's LIFE."
-Ain't It Cool News

Typically if I see a film that cites either of these two sources as selling reviews so that I too will watch the film, I run away and don't look back. But if only for a moment in an inter-dimensional world, imagine that either of these two had insightful things to say about a movie that isn't a stand alone product of what contemporary Hollywood produces but in fact is virtually EVERY product that Hollywood produces. Both of these quotes could have been lifted directly from critical theory but were written by reviewers who spend most of their time praising comically bad C.G.I. special effects and seek multiple jump cuts to replace any sense of an effective plot. And though both of these reviews did ultimately land the film with good grades based on their respective scales, how could these little thought bombs come from this cluster of banality? Simply because in of both these quotes they state what the audience desires; complacency.

As expected, everything about the new Indiana Jones film is formulaic. So much so that you can literally finish lines before the actors on screen do at several points in the film. No moment passes where there isn't an Indiana Jones-ism being shoved down your throat. And not just the dialogue. Whether it's exploding walls, bombs, vehicles, people, or otherwise, the computer effects in this film didn't fall short of way too many. George Lucas wrote the film and wanted to try and top the original vision by replacing plot driven entertainment with a showcase of modern special effects. For American audiences this maybe convincing if not only because of the nostalgic factor that audiences in the West hold for these movies. In relation to the other films, this one is surely more comparable to the second film, 'The Temple of Doom' than to the predecessor or subsequent third film where Harrison Ford was joined by Sean Connery as Jones' father. Though they were all camp, in the second film Jones was joined by a young sidekick and the villains were ridiculously pulp comic mascots. Not that either of the other two films carried any plausible characters or by any means an original idea. That was never their intention. They were an homage to pulp shorts of the past just as Star Wars was. But it's almost embarrassingly silly especially that the new film is so similar to 'The Temple of Doom'.

In 'The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull' the time is appropriately about twenty years after the last film took place. Therefore the natural enemy in 1957 were the Russians who sought to destroy democracy in all it's incarnations and bring about some seemingly evil communist rule. But this historical context aside, the film is really about aliens. Yes aliens and how the Mayans were really ruled by inter-dimensional beings whose bones were made of magnetic crystal with strange properties that compelled people to go insane in understanding it. This all overwhelms the U.S. VS. Soviets dynamic you might expect (though the stereotypes are all there via tough Russian guy, page boy haircut on a domineering baroness type, and all the comments about Reds they can muster). As it turns out there were Soviet psychics who sought out the power of the crystal skulls to use as their own and rule the world. Sounds like desperation on the Red's part, but I suppose if you saw all the exciting waterfalls the journey entailed, you might want to try this route to world domination as well.

Overwhelmingly the movie was just what one would expect of a new Indiana Jones film. A sugar coated collection of arch-types and special effects with all the monotony broken up by modern day jump cuts to the max. If you start thinking about anything in the plot for a moment you will have already lost your place in the film. The story will have gone from New York to South America faster than you can crack a bull whip. But that's acceptable because afterall, "It's LIFE."

Indiana Jones & The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull is an entertainment. Simply that and dangerously so. Don't go to see the film expecting it to hold up to the films prior. But see it on a hot summer day in a second run dollar theatre where the popcorn is cheap and they have air conditioning. You're sure to have fun if only within that context.

More Sirhan Tour Pics

These pics are courtesy of the OHSNAP! KID




Sirhan



Wesley, Pauly Walnuts, & Arkell



Le Castle Vania, Buckmaster, & Sirhan

Sirhan Mini Tour Report

This past weekend was a whirlwind of driving, rest stop garbage shopping, eating gator hush puppies, technical difficulties, and sci-fi audio book adventure. The tour's first stop was in Charlotte, NC where we met up with Buckmaster. The show was held in the back of a strip mall at a wedding reception hall. Though this sounds like the typical tour horror story where only 3 people come and had no idea beforehand that there would be music, a lot of people did come out. It was like some secret place to go where only the cool gay kids that look like chubby Andy Warhols with factory girl fag hags wearing silver tensil hair know about.


Charlotte, NC



Buckmaster and Pauly Walnuts


The next day we grabbed up Buckmaster to hit the road and make our way to Atlanta. Along the way we picked up this crazy trucker audio book called Deadlands. It was this crazy post apocalyptic story of these truck driver type characters making their way across the ruins of cities filled with taxidermy stuffed people, "gawdy" whores, and this guy called Trader who was sort of a wreck loose who was really into killing women. Somehow this overtook our lives in the van for the entire weekend.


When we got to Atlanta we dropped h1n1 off to visit his sister who lived there and went to Little Five Points. It was like a flea market of hippie boutiques. And though Matthew and I tried, we could not find a hackey sack.


The show that night was at The Masquerade with our awesome host, Preston Craig. The place filled up to almost 400 people and when Sirhan went on one of the turn tables stopped working. Luckily there was this great MC that kept the crowd hyped while Preston Craig dropped Surkin's White Knight II to buy some time. Unfortunately the turntable somehow actually exploded and Sirhan managed to work through the set on one turntable with help from Buckmaster and Le Castle Vania. And though it could have gone better, the show was pretty good overall with a good reception to h1n1's track 'BUG'.


Atlanta



h1n1 and friend


The next day we were pretty destroyed and started the day out with gator hush puppies before hitting the road to meet up with Flufftronix in Bloomington, IN. There we made it to an uneventful house party (that supposedly got big after we left but fuck it... we were beat). The best part of the day was really when we discovered an amazing Dinosaur Park and saw this fat kid in front of a dollar store on one of those old quarter horse rides. Taking a picture of him was like sneaking a shot of a leopard in the wilderness. We were cautious and pretended to take a picture of the store but I don't think he would have minded either way.

SOUTHERN EXPOSURE -part 2-

Saturday I had to drive to Kosciusko, Mississippi (birthplace of Oprah) to pick my grandfather up from the veterans home he lives in now. After arguing about whether or not I could check him out, we left and wearily drove up the Natchez Trace to his house unoccupied house in Vardaman. But not before we stopped for fried catfish!



Ol' paw paw kind of mutters a lot and has the alzheimers so he asks the same things repeatedly and has to take like sack of medicine a day. We hung out with him until he went to bed around ten at which point we left and drove up to Memphis for another show. A two hour drive from where we were. Basically when in the south, it's easy to calculate any given location that you're at to another point you want to be is likely going to be two hours away.
We hit Memphis again around 12:30 a.m. and got to Murphy's again just in time to see supergroup, The Limes. The Limes are a gnarly southern garage band made up of local legends Monsieur Jeffrey Evans, Jack Oblivian, Shawn Cripps, Harlan T. Bobo, and Quinn Powers. They basically sound like what would happen if CCR got drunk with The Minutemen and decided to form a bar band. It was a good time with the exception of a near altercation with Abe from The Oscars who got kind of surly when Jay Reatard's girlfriend invited us to stay at her place. But we're smooth operators so we calmed Abe down, and kept the lurk to a minimum with no party foul. Though Abe did punch a paper towel holder off the wall and almost got kicked out of Murphy's till Jude put it together for him. See, we're not such bad guys.


We got back to my grandfather's place around 5:30 a.m. and almost died about fifty times on the way. Thus began day two of running on empty. We crashed out only to wake up to paw paw getting up and leaving the house around seven to go down the road to visit a relative. this sounds harmless but he gets confused so that means I had to get up and go with him and give him his medicine. I felt so fuckin' ill from not sleeping and eating fried food that the only thing that made sense was to more. We said our goodbyes to my grandpa since my cousin that lived next to him agreed to take him back to the home. So we drove to my mom's house and crashed out for about five hours (the most sleep we'd gotten since Thursday). We got up and went out to eat with my mom and Elliot at this place called Grill. It wasn't particularly southern so I won't go into detail about the Filet Mignon we had. Just sayin'...
So around ten p.m. we said goodbye to Mississippi and headed back to Memphis to find something to do for our last night. We found the city dead. An unseasonal cold front had hit. That combined with it being Sunday night made for a pretty depressing night with no partys, shows, or even movie theatres that were open late. We found ourselves without a place to stay and playing Ms. Pac-Man at Young Ave. Deli. When we'd given up hope, some Memphis folks i knew dropped in and saved the day. We kicked it with Angry Bob who used to play bass in Death Threat and Pat who bar tended the deli when I used to work there. We got a couple of couches to sleep on and I got punched in the arm and called a fag by Bob. Overall better than sleeping in the truck.
The next day we got up after finally having slept enough to not want to fall over. I know where the good thrift stores are so we did a little record shopping and I ended up spending $87.00 on seven vintage Swatch watches.



We ended the trip by eating BBQ from The BBQ Shop on Madison and letting it settle long enough to eat again at Gus' Famous Fried Chicken downtown. This weekend was the closest I've ever come to forcing diabetes on myself in one go. But that's how the south is... one long death drive filled with great food that'll kill you and random characters who'll let you sleep on their couch.

Super Power Building

While I was reading this I kept thinking "what if they're right?" Its funny to use the word super in front of anything with maybe the exception of SuperMax (or maybe thats the funniest one?) This will be better than a Disneyland, Legoland, The Grand Canyon, and Wisconsin Dells gangbang. I want to enhance my perceptics.
READ IT ALL LAZY BONES

Get Yr. Learn On

http://free-university-in-internet.blogspot.com/

Max just gave me a link to an alphabetic listing of totally nerdy videos. Some promising links include:
Art - Herbie Hancock - "Cantaloupe Island"
Documentary – “The Occult History of the Third Reich”
Technology – “The secret life of the refrigerator”

Enjoy never going out.

SIRHAN ON HOLIDAY!

Dear Select Southern Locales,

Memorial Day Weekend Sirhan wil be in your town. If you are one of the few we'll be visiting, come out and say hi! See you soon!

MAY 23rd -Charlotte, North Carolina --- A Jarrell Affair: w/ Buckmaster & Sleazy Crew

MAY 24th -Atlanta, Georgia --- Masquerade: w/ Preston Craig and Moar


Also, we'll be swinging through Nashville for a day. Not playing but just saying hi and kickin' it with the Sewell Bros.

Bike-In Cinema Presents: FANTASY FRIDAYS!

Bike-In Cinema is going into it's third year of being in chicago this summer and what better way to celebrate than to have a ridiculous monthly party? FANTASY FRIDAYS will be held the last Friday of every month at Dos Butt (2137 N. Milwaukee on The Congress Theatre). Each event will feature two fantasy films followed by bands and DJs performing a loosely fantasy themed dance party.
To attend you MUST RSVP to the Bike-In Cinema myspace or the Dos Butt myspace.
These are
www.myspace.com/bikeincinema
&
www.myspace.com/dosbutt

This is the flyer for May 30th which features The Last Starfighter, The Beastmaster, and live sets by TomTomTomboy, Charlie Slick and Sirhan.



... June 27th:

::::Celluloid:::: - Death of a Cyclist

At the height of political disarray in post-Franco Spain, many of the film studios had been shut down and most of the country's cinema was imports of things such as Italian Neo-Realism. However there were a few directors who sought to challenge the country's current political climate and work outside of a studio. One of these directors was Juan Antonio Bardem who, with his film 'Death of a Cyclist', made one of the most impressive and possibly overlooked films of the time.

'Death of a Cyclist' begins with an adulterous couple driving down a country road back to the city after a secret liaison on the outskirts of town. Not surprisingly given the title, they hit a cyclist along the way. Faced with going to the authorities and being outed with their relationship or leaving the man there to die, they flee the scene, setting into motion a conflict of morality that tests their love for one another and their willingness to "do the right thing".

Soon thereafter, the two main characters realize that their crime had not gone unnoticed when they are black mailed by a man named Rafa who casually drops hints that he knows about their sins. Through much personal turmoil and a few existential bombs, the characters roles become polarized as the man feels the need to purge themselves of wrong doing by going to the authorities, thereby making their love that much more pure and stronger. However the woman in a very Hitchcockian fashion is obviously not amused. In the end their fate seems sealed in an ironic twist that mirrors the original crime.

What really makes the film interesting is that it's casually set against a backdrop of Spanish elite and upper social class that allows a Communist agenda to show through without beating you over the head with it. The typical elements of bigger hollywood films were more predominant than anything. The tale of morality, the secret love affair, and the femme fatale. It's reminiscent of film noir of the time such as 'Double Indemnity' and carries strong elements from a typical Hitchcock film like Psycho where the characters aren't necessarily completely without regret for their crimes but commit them anyway and as usual, pay for them in the end.

color wheel liquified

The Dolphin Prayers

He'd been listening to Vicente Fernández for days. There was something about the way the old cowboy carried a tune. With such robustness. Like peppers. Zesty... but considerate. Fernandez truly was "El Rey". This did nothing to stop the milk from spilling over the edge of Turner's bowl, carrying with it the cereal puffs he was going to have for breakfast. The reaction wasn't sharp. Instead he just stood there knowing the circumstance was out of his control. He could only come in and do a clean up of the wreckage. And though it could be seen as an act of apathy, he knew it to be one that only someone who saw things as they really were could understand.

"Goddamn it Turny! Would you look at this?!? Look at it! This shit is out of control!!!"
"What?"
"These dumb fuckers think they're gonna make it to the next level! They can't sing!"

Turner's roommate Chris was an avid fan of reality-game shows where people went to great lengths to make complete fools of themselves. Prior to this trend in game shows people that didn't win could recieve a copy of the home game. But now they have to settle for a TiVo recording of themselves looking like assholes on national television. And the really lucky ones will live on infamy through the internet. They can be forever "You Tubed" as the ones who didn't make the cut. Even better than that were the people who actually did win such shows and receive marginal popularity among fourteen year old girls who frequent malls and maybe, if even for just a week, will listen to their album that was produced as part of the deal.
Turner never subscribed to such mediocrity however. When asked about these kinds of things, he would casually tell people how he wasn't very internet-savy. He didn't own a cell phone, he didn't have a Myspace page, he didn't personally own a television (he just used Chris' TV for "background noise"), and he certainly didn't play video games. He just didn't have time for that kind of stuff. Or more realistically he was opposed to it on a very ideological level. OR even more truthfully, he was frightened by technology the way a fundamentalist is frightened by evolution.

"Turny... Turny look at this shit! Crazy!"

Turner cleaned up the remainder of the cereal and milk and walked to his room. He sat at his desk and ate while considering his plans for the day:


1. He had to do something about this shoe dilemma. The soles of his Converse All-Stars were wearing thin. Time to buy a new pair. Turner bought these because they're canvas and he's been a vegetarian for almost eight years. He couldn't stand the thought of wearing another living creature as his clothing.

2. He needed to get a new tube for the front tire of his bike. The night before he'd run over some broken glass and punctured his leaving him to walk the remaining two miles back to his apartment.

3. Yoga class at 6.


"Not really that much", he thought. Turner set the empty bowl in the kitchen sink and got dressed.

The bus stop was crowded with people that morning. They must have all had flats. Turner leaned into the corner of the stop and pulled out his copy of "Praying With Dolphins: Realizing Your Inner Zen". The book was one he saw on a coffee table at his yoga class a few weeks previous. He'd heard of people swimming with dolphins to find a cosmic connection but had always written the notion off as... silly. But while waiting for his instructor to arrive one evening, he became completely engrossed in the world of the Dolphin and our place in it. It didn't take much convincing to decide that dolphins truly are the Earth's compass to find it's way back to God... er... the Goddess.

"What the fuck?!? If this bus don't come soon I'm 'on walk this motherfucker!"

Other people at the stop weren't as calm as Turner about waiting for the bus. The guy who yelled had only been waiting for about five minutes at this point. How impatient people are... if only they knew what dolphin prayer could do for them.


11:30 A.M.

The thrift store was always crazy and had a strange old people aroma to it. One that seemed to kind of permeate your being. The kind where you had to go home and exfoliate seniors from your skin. The old Jewish people that were always there were arguing with a man about the cost of a pair of pants. From what he could discern, Turner knew that the argument was about a dollar difference.
The employees were a little old woman who stood just below 5' 5" and the man named Billy, was clearly gay. There's no way he wasn't with that whiney cartoonish voice and his inappropriate sexual jokes to customers. The kind that for some reason just seems more acceptable when said by an older gay man. Sort of like a birthright.

The customer that was arguing the price was a little old man wearing a ratty suit leaning across his walker with a hunched back. His hair was white and crazy and complemented his bugged out blue eyes.

"These pants have an orange tag so they're half off today!", he said leaning over the walker.

"The half off orange is only on Wednesday! Today is Thursday!", the old lady said.

"Well there should be some consideration for age! I'm a senior citizen! What's the senior discount?"

"There is no senior discount. There's only tag days! It's not orange day, it's purple tags today. Purple and green!", said Billy.

"Fine! Take the damn two dollars!", the man said. He shakily pulled out some wadded ones and threw them on the counter. As he left both the woman and Billy shook their heads. Hands on her hips she simply said, "Some people! THE Nerve!"

"He's just mad that the whole world's not gonna bend over and (looking around...) kiss his butt.", said Billy.
It was now that Turner realized Guadalajara was playing over the stores speakers. Also, all of these shoes are bad... strike.

12:15 P.M.

NEW shoes. Check.

12:37 P.M.

The people at the bike shop were somewhat abrasive. All he needed was a tube. the transaction turned into a passive aggressive exercise. He asked for a tube and not knowing what the difference between a 27" and 700c, Turner looked like a new jack to the clerk who sort of laughed and said, "Well a lot of good that 27" will do you on a 700c wheel."
"Some people..."

The day was open. Carpe' Diem and all that. Turner could get lunch, hang out in the park, and (time permitting) read a few chapters of his book. He was up to "Dolphin Meditation and The Path To Enlightenment". If it weren't such a hassle he would have gone to the grocery store to pick up a few things. The trail mix from the bulk at home was nearing the bottom. It was down to stale granola and bittersweet raisins. He hated the bittersweet raisins...
When he was young, his mother fed him a mixed diet of tater-tot casserole (an abomination to foods if ever there was one), tacos (crunchy shells out of the box), and fast food because sometimes you can't be bothered to cook such prepared meals. It was at his own volition that he'd become more considerate of what he put into his body. That's why he'd stopped drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon and moved onto drinking organic beers when available.

Crossing the street Turner didn't notice the car barreling down without yielding. A loud squeeling of tires was followed by the abrupt thud and minimal pain that proceeded a flash of lights and then... darkness. At first colors swirled the way they would had he been rubbing his closed eyes while staring into the sun. Then slowly, a form emerged from the darkness. It seemed like a horizon. As though he were on a beach looking into the distance. But the colors were all wrong. A sky that was pink and orange and the water... well the water was space. It was like looking directly into the night sky only in reverse. It was looking into him.
That's when he saw the figure coming towards the beach. riding across the vast cosmos, it was a man. A well dressed man on the back of, a serpent... no. A Dolphin. And as the man got closer, Turner knew that if this couldn't be a dream. He surely had died but he didn't quite remember how. As Vicente Fernández stepped down from the dolphin's back, Turner felt a fear grip him that only came upon meeting someone very important. Someone like the President. Or Presidente'.




"¿Hola amigo. le hace sabe por qué usted está aquí? ", said Vicente.

"Umm... I'm sorry. I only speak English."

Vicente was visibly disappointed. He sighed... "Do you know why you're here?"

"Oh... uh, well I... I guess I've died?"

"You are a thinker. I can tell. Only a thinker would answer a question with another question. That can be good sometimes. No one should go through their whole life blindly accepting all things given to them.", Vicente said while stroking his mustache. "However... I am a lover. Lovers, we do not need to answer these kinds of questions one way or the other. We simply make love. That is why we are so good at it. Do you understand?"

"Understand that you're a lover?"

"NO! You must understand that you waste your life on the trivial. Sometimes the trivial is okay... so long as it's a platform for the meaningful later. But being arbitrary for the sake of being arbitrary... this will do nothing."

"So, I... should be a lover?"

"YES! you should learn to love everyday as a precious gift. Love it just as the way you would love a lady even if it's only for the moment! You must kiss her and let her be if she pleases you no longer but you must still... take her"

"That sounds offensive. I would never disrespect a woman. A woman should be treated with the same respect that I would want her to treat me."

Vicente's look had gone back to one of disappointment. Only this time there was also a hint of anger.

"¡Usted es un coño estúpido! ¡Sea un HOMBRE! "

"I'm sorry... i just don't... um I don't underst..."

"Shut up! Look. This tofu and these canvas shoes that were made by little children in Honduras... they will not define who you are when you die. They will only have been the confines you have placed on yourself. Unless you are a monk, which you are clearly not a monk, there is no reason to punish yourself and subsequently all those around you with your white guilt. Of course you are a son of a bitch. it's like original sin! You cannot escape yourself amigo. But there is no reason for you to create a false sense of superiority by constructing Western liberal values and upholding them as sacred."

"So... wait... I should just, let go?"

"¡Exactamente! "

"Am I dead? What is this?"

Vicente just smiled. He tipped his sombrero.
"Adios amigo!", he stepped back and through his leg back over the dolphin's back. "Just remember Turner, *EEEEEE EEEEE EEEEEE!! EEE!! EEEEEE*"

Then they were off. Back into that swirling vastness. And as turner looked over the horizon he drifted off.

"Oh my God! He's waking up!", said a woman wearing a "Make 7-Up Yours" t-shirt.

"Too soon...", Turner thought.

A crowd of people were gathered around him. As things became more clear, he saw the store front behind the people. he realized that he was lying on the ground in front a Mexican Discoteca. And there... on the door. A poster of Vicente Fernández smiling.

"Are you okay? That woman hit you and drove off.", said the woman with the 7-Up shirt. "I'm pretty sure she was talking on her cell phone and not paying attention. We called an ambulance."

"I... I'll be fine. i think i'll be just fine." As Turner stood up he knew that he was going to have one hell of a bruised arm and leg. "I think things are gonna be alright."

"You dropped your book.", a man said holding out the Dolphin Prayer book.

"Oh... yeah. that's alright.", Turner said. "I'm okay. you can keep it. I don't need it anymore."

self help session #1

I hate to be the bearer of bad news but the current indie darlings, crystal castles have stolen a lot of their music from other artists and also have used someone's artwork with out permission or acknowledgement. there's a full story here: 8bit collective.

In other news the world of video gaming just got more interesting with release of Grand Theft Auto IV and Mario Kart Wii. Both are worth your hard earned money in this economic disastrous time. Both have great online features. However, It is summertime and I suggest the "real" world and enjoy the spring before summer hits. Speaking of springtime, Casual Persuasion crew is going to be hitting the road and hitting south again. We'll be heading south in a prius to save gas money but we are going to head out to North Carolina and Georgia memorial day weekend. If you live near or around there, we are still looking for a stop on Sunday, May 25th.
Here's a little blurb on Sirhan, the reason we are going south. Iheartcomix

Besides being in the news for a large number of incest cases recently(here and here), australia has hands down the best clothing out for "streetwear".
PAM
schwipe
material boy
insight
ksubi
there are plenty more but thats just to get you started.
oh yeah, Somebody hook me up with these.

oh yeah here are some tunes to ride your bike too.
a rip of the most important tune of spring.
Pryda: Miami, Atlanta this is an intense mix of lush/deep house with a great electro bass break down. this is sunrise on the beach 4am music, yet at the same time perfect party time hit.
phantasm 2 ending theme song.
nice horror movie music.

Lil' Wayne "lollipop (dj bstee club rmx)
vocoder top 40 hit, clubbed out. a real grower or not seeing how it's the number one song in the country.

Le Night "Dominator (dj assualt vs spruce lee rmx)

dj assualt's still got it.
benajamin theives "texas" sebastian remix
a little throwback.
Santiago & Bushido "headtrick"
this is new chicago house.
Notorious B.I.G. "big poppa screwed by dj screw"
r.i.p. 2 great artists.

thats it. i'm out.

From Charlotte To Memphis...

I moved to Memphis in 2002 which was around the same time that a band from Charlotte, North Carolina moved to town. They had this sticker campaign that just overwhelmed the sidewalks, light poles, and power boxes around Midtown. The stickers were always black and white with ambiguous things on them like old people sitting in a McDonald's with the name 'The Pelicans' on it. It wasn't that it was original because it certainly wasn't. It was just uncommon for Memphis so it was sort an interesting gimmick considering the context of Memphis. Most of the bands and people there are very relaxed about things and don't do flashy things to make themselves so obvious.

I saw them for the first time when they opened up for Melt-Banana at Young Avenue Deli. They were spastic and the East Coast/Southern counterpart to the 8-bit bands from L.A. ala' Retard Disco types like Totally Rad! There were three of them. Two guitarists and a synth player. They all added something to the combo though. The main singer/guitarist, Preston Drum was spastic and had a paranoid energy. The other guitarist, Patrick Joden, didn't sing at all but just seemed in his own world and never opened his eyes. And the synth/singer, Action Jackson Gilman, sang through what sounded like a CB radio over Nintendo sounds. 

Though they were short lived and I only saw them a handful of times, they were a really fun live act. The only recordings they made were two 4 song demos recorded by Chuck Vicious of The Oscars. There isn't any way to get these anymore unless you just have them and for all I know they'd probably like to keep it that way. But unless I hear any protests, here are three of the songs from those recordings.

'Remember Murphy Brown?' is probably my favorite of the three. Hell On Wheels is older and starts out with a sample from The Terminator and Action Jackson sings on it. He also sings over the soft sounds of 'Orange Evening' which is the only slow dance song they ever played.

Like I said, nothing too fancy but it was good at the time and I still think it's pretty fun stuff.

Pelicans, The - 'Remember Murphy Brown?'
http://www.mediafire.com/?ep5dvudjj4j

Pelicans, The - 'Hell On Wheels'
http://www.mediafire.com/?hmjjtodg1g3

Pelicans, The - 'Orange Evening'
http://www.mediafire.com/?jujtasjydw0

ArtChicago 2008

This past weekend was the largest gathering of the arts that annually happens in Chicago. An event appropriately enough called ArtChicago in which galleries both local and international come together under the roof of the Merchandise Mart in the loop. Multiple levels hold far too much art to take in even if you were there everyday. My personal take on it was one of claustrophobia as I was elbowed, pushed, and rushed as I tried to look at the things on display.
I went to two days of the weekend long excursion, once on Sunday which was bustling and frantic, and again on Monday. Then I was free to walk around without being shoved but with much of the artists and galleries already at the end of their weekend, packed up, defeated from lack of sales, or just generally ready to go back to their respective homes it seemed depressing.
As expected of an event of such magnitude, there was a whole lot shit and there was a fair amount of good stuff too. I couldn't do justice to all that was good there if I tried but I will talk about a couple of the things that were sort of awesome....

RICHARD STIPL -

Richard Stipl is a Czechoslovakian born artist who is possibly one of the most technically proficient sculptors I've ever seen. But his sculptures probably aren't even what would ordinarily come to mind when you think sculpture. There isn't a large space taking piece that draws you into an abstract idea and it's not really meant to be too pretentious. Stipl creates miniature busts of himself out of wax that bring to mind images of Norwegian death metal bands. The sculptures look so lifelike in their detail that it's a little unnerving.
Stipl's intention is to record himself through his life in these sculptures. The poses make it a little more comical however since, afterall, not too many people spend their life covered in blood or having crosses burned onto their foreheads (save for the singer of Deicide).


'Breathehead 1'

'Breathehead 3'

MATHIEU LÉVESQUE

So this guy had some stuff that I thought was kind of nice eye candy. It was essentially just generic contemporary pop art with images of nostalgia for the 80's generation painted on top of aluminum. But then it got even more generic when I read his statement which I won't justify by reprinting here. I'll just say that it was a boring little diatribe that used the word "juxtapositions" more than once and described the work as "mediatic". When you paint Hulk Hogan on aluminum don't give me some bullshit about how it's important. Because guess what; it is totally not important. It just looks cool.


'Eddie'

'Massacre'

GLITCH

crunchy burner. tepr tepr tepr.

missill feat jahcoozi - glitch (tepr remix)

TEPR::::http://www.myspace.com/tepr
MISSILL::::http://www.myspace.com/djmissill
JAHCOOZI::::http://www.jahcoozi.com

SOUTHERN EXPOSURE -part 1-

Before I moved away from Mississippi to live in the cold midwest back in 2001, my mom told me, "You can take the boy out of the south but you can't take the south out of the boy." I think the recent weekend excursion to Mississippi and Tennessee that Jude MC and I took is proof of that. We spent four days eating fried food, driving over the white line, and kickin' it with paw paw.

We left Chicago Friday afternoon and made it to Memphis around nine. Having never eaten a muffuletta, Jude wanted to start the weekend off by consuming as many deli meats as possible on one giant sandwich. So we dropped by the Young Ave. Deli in midtown. This place used to be one of the go to spots for shows or to see other hipsters out and about drinking cheap Miller High Life, watching a decent rock show, or just eating really greasy burgers. However now it's made it's transition from being the place that employed every slacker musician that needed a job that let them go on tour to a total sports bar complete with exclusive frat boy clientele. Though the food wasn't bad we were kind of bummed out till some ladies told us about a free show at Murphy's Irish Pub.

The show was about what I had expected to find; a sub par kind of rock n roll show with skinheads dressed like they were from England rather than the mid south and a few white dudes with dreadlocks. On the upside, my buddy Quinn Powers was operating the sound board. We spent the rest of the night laughing at band punk bands, talking about furries, and Jude got hustled at pool by a chubby girl.

We got back on the road around two in the morning on our way to Vardaman, Mississippi when, while in the middle of nowhere, a tire blew out. Lucky for us there was a spare in the back of the truck. Unlucky for us the jack that came with the truck stripped out, leaving us stranded on the dark, cold, off ramp near nothing with no way to get help until morning.
Finding sleep impossible I sat up right behind the steering wheel until I knew my mom would be awake. Calling her was the last resort but she only lived about ninety miles away and was the only option I really had left. So come six a.m. I called her up and explained the situation. She had other plans and sent her husband Elliot out with a jack. And although help was on the way, we had a little more than two hours to kill. Delirious and strung out, we crossed the highway and walked into a country diner/gas station as it opened and got breakfast. It totally had that "you're not from around here" bullshit vibe. But I think our natural charm wooed the lady behind the counter into making us the best country ham and biscuits that six dollars could buy.

OPRAH BURIAL MASK

http://leokesting.com/



“The Oprah Burial Mask depicts for the viewer a celebration of an inner beauty for which we could all aspire,” says gallery director David Kesting of the life-sized hollowed bust. “If we each imagined an object that represented us at our most ideal for all eternity, we might hold ourselves to the highest standards, both morally and spiritually.”

“Standing before the burial mask of King Tut’s great-grandmother when it was displayed in Philadelphia, I finally understood how the creation of an object could be the act of preparing for a better place. It inspired me to create such an object,” explains the artist, whose favorite reference for his contemporary burial mask was a photo of Oprah Winfrey praying. “I tried to depict the feeling of inner peace that was so evident on Oprah’s face in that photo.”

GATEKEEPER

It should be a few more weeks before these boys to men push anything into the blogosphericonnet, but when they doo-doo, whoo boy to men. Errtime i run into Brutal Basia at a party we have to say at least one hyperbole about GATEKEEPER. "Seriously Rand, these guys are the future" she says. When they played Outdanced last week I had one of those moments where you get really jealous at the performers but then you segue into acceptance and ultimately joy. Right now you can peep the jams on their myspace page:

http://www.myspace.com/thecanyonsedge
but rest assured CAz Per will be on it

ReAdmoRe Spring '08 Mix

Spring is the beginning of things, the re-birth, the new life, and all that other resurrection stuff. So as we celebrate zombies and the end of the worst winter Chicago's known (at least in most of our lifetimes) I'd like to begin it with this new blog space and a mix to kick it off. I hope it will bring a much greater sense of being to all the in the know snobs that read it. Enjoy!


http://www.mediafire.com/?uux4ydyb1zd

ReAdmoRe -Spring '08 Mix

playlist
...................................................

DVNO (Surkin Edit) - Justice
DVNO (Justice Remix) - Justice
Jacques Your Body (Make Me Sweat) - Les Rythmes Digitales
Nil By Mouth (Knightlife Remix) - Bag Raiders
OH! (A-Trak Remix) - Boys Noize
Pacey's (Original Mix) - Strip Steve
The Call (Ante Up) - Green Velvet
So It Goes (Dennis Demens Re-Edit) - Bart B. More
My Moon My Man (Boys Noize Remix) - Feist
Charlie Brown (Guns N' Bombs Remix) - Ghostface Killah
Dominator (Red Foxx's Ravmore Remix) - Human Resource
Jesus Doesn't Love Me Anymore (Lismore Remix) - Dragonette
Testarossa Autodrive - Kavinsky
Dun (DuDun Puzzle Remix by Das Glow) - Para One
Somebody Somewhere (LIFELIKE Remix) - Cazals
What I Need - Curses!
Ghetto Obsession (Delete Remix) - Surkin
Profeten - Style Of The Eye
Sweaty (Shazam Remix) - Muscles
Escape (LA Riots Remix) - The Toxic Avenger
OK (Acid Girls Remix) - Shit Disco
DVNO (Sunshine Brothers Mix) - Justice
Is You (Les Petits Pilous Remix) - D.I.M.