I have this job where sometimes I have to fire people, and it’s not cool or funny or fabulous to take away someone’s paycheck, it’s just real low-down-ugly kind of shit. Even if the person getting the axe is a pain in the ass, or shouldn’t have a job anywhere in civilized society, there is still no joy in cutting them off.
Maybe that’s because I have been on the other side of the firing equation more than once, so I know what it feels like. But now by some weird twist of celestial irony, I have become “the man.” An evil tool of corporate oppression and cruelty!
Oh, this is a good one…the IFPI (International Federation of Phonographic Industries) along with the Motion Picture Association has proposed a “code of conduct” for your internet service provider to abide by. The “code” involves lovely activities such as filtering, spying and handing over your name and address to a giant corporation’s lawyers, all in the name of “social responsibility.”
Of course the real problem here, as far as the IFPI and MPA’s are concerned, is that the entertainment delivery technology is changing again, only this time they don’t control the means to get you to buy your favorite records and movies for the third or fourth time.
I just poured orange juice all over my hand. Then it dripped on the dog. It was a mess.
Explaining how I poured orange juice on my hand wouldn’t be very interesting, so I’ll just leave it at that. Whatever you’re imagining is better than reality. You can say that about pretty much anything, and it will be true.
But the orange juice got me thinking of this time Carol and I were in Canada hanging around Niagara falls, and went to a Denny’s for some greasy breakfast potatoes and coffee. I ordered a glass of orange juice and it was $4 for a small 8 ounce glass.
I was flipping through Art in America magazine and came across an article about a show that Carol recently commented on, Timothy Greenfield-Sanders’ “XXX: 30 Porn Star Portraits.”
In the article Greenfield-Sanders claims that he was inspired by Goya’s La Maja Vestida and La Maja Desnuda to make pictures of porn “stars” fully clothed, and then in the same pose, completely naked.
I had to switch to Windows XP on my work computer (hey, early adopters are suckers!) and while I’ve been able to make it work like Windows 2000 for the most part (instead of the default Fischer Price “My First Computer” look of XP), they took the old ctrl + alt + del method for locking the computer and moved it to Windows + l.
For six years I’ve been doing ctrl + alt + del before I walk away from my desk, but now that only brings up the task manager, not the shutdown/lock options.
Carol called a local TV repair joint to have them come look at our 21″ Panasonic that has developed a severe case of the unwatchable squigglies. The guy called back and left a message – barely containing his laughter – informing us that our television is “a throwaway model.”
Now, honestly, my first instinct was to throw the thing away. Actually, my first instinct when any machine dies is to take it outside and beat it with a sledgehammer until it is little more than plastic and glass dust. While such violent outbursts are extremely satisfying, they can frighten those around you, so it’s best to reserve them for when they are really needed.
I conducted a poll today as I drove through the intersection of La Cienega and Pico at about 6pm. There were a couple dozen people on the corners waving flags and holding up signs that said, “HONK FOR PEACE!”
Now, it sounded to me as if everyone was honking their car horns, which leads me to believe that Americans, as a group, are in favor of peace. That is empirical data, but it is nebulous, because peace can mean different things to different people.
Hunter Thompson’s death never really registered with me until I read this dry, dispassionate police report, which includes:
On the typewriter in front of Thompson was a page bearing letterhead reading “Fourth Amendment Foundation”. Upon this page, centered near the top was typed “Feb 22 ’05”, and the page contained only one word, “counselor”.
There is no point in further eulogizing HST – you were either on that bus or you weren’t.
She’s at the top of her craft, Mz. Bernhard, that craft being a unique Vulcan mind meld of comedy and music. Less cabaret and more pop/rock this time around, she sang songs by Bob Dylan, Prince and Lita Ford (Lita Ford?! yes! a funky version of Kiss Me Deadly), among others, backed up by a tight three piece band and a back up singer (“Who is also my makeup artist, so I get a two-fer!”).
The poem covered three 5×5 inch cards, and I hand printed those fuckers on the old letterpress, so that was a lot of time effort and materials, not to mention busting my ass to meet his submission deadline, which was November 1, 2002.
Tara Burghart writes for Associated Press;
A bus driver for the Dave Matthews Band pleaded guilty Wednesday to charges stemming from the dumping of 800 pounds of human waste from his vehicle’s septic tank onto a sightseeing boat on the Chicago River.
The waste poured onto the open deck of the Chicago’s Little Lady tour boat, which was passing below with more than 100 passengers. The boat immediately returned to its dock and was disinfected. The Chicago Architectural Foundation, which operates the tour, offered refunds to the passengers.
Now that’s pretty disgusting, but it’s not the most disgusting part of the story, oh no. It goes on;
I know a couple of people who “dj,” one of them quite successfully in Hollywood, but I’ve gotta say, man, what the hell is that?
Playing records. that’s what it is. To elevate a dj to anything more is borderline insanity. It’s like saying the person who hangs the paintings up in a gallery is an artist, or someone who decides which six movies HBO will show all year is a filmmaker.
Guys, gals, you’re playing records. I understand that a lot of scenesters, debutantes and crank addicts value what you do, so you certainly serve a purpose in the wide world. But stop acting like you’re doing something important.
For several weeks I’ve been meaning to tighten up the bolts on the chair I sit in here at the office. The problem has been that we don’t have the correct tool for the job here (or any tools for that matter), so I’ve just been carrying on as if nothing is wrong, in an increasingly wobbly and probably horribly dangerous chair.
Last night I was in the garage getting some drywall screws to use when we hang Carol’s show today, and I spotted a set of allen wrenches and grabbed them to bring with me today to fix the chair.
I was going to write something here entitled, “art is shit,” but that’s just so shocking and punk rock that I can’t do it. besides, everyone knows that most art is shit.
Speaking of punk rock though, in Kristine McKenna’s book Talk to Her, the late, great Joe Strummer said, “Punk rock isn’t something you grow out of, Punk rock is like the Mafia, and once you’re made, you’re made. Punk rock is an attitude, and the essence of the attitude is ‘give us some truth.'”
Taking its battle against rampant piracy of films and music to the front lines, Warner Home Video said it will sell cut-rate DVDs in China in a bid to compete on the counterfeiters’ home turf.
Basic DVDs, to be available shortly after a film’s theatrical release, will sell in China for as little as 22 yuan ($2.65), the company said. Versions with more features will be available a bit later for 28 yuan ($3.38).
Meanwhile, the company said, they will continue to charge suckers in america $20 to $30 for the same movies.
You explain it to me.