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I'm still selling my RM1X. Buy it already. Here's the ad from Craigslist.

OK, look. It's been sitting in my apartment for months, unloved. I've decided I vastly prefer listening to music made by people who are decent at it than hacking away for hours on a drum pattern that I still don't find inspiring.

But you, you have talent, don't you? You'd make great use of this fine remixer/sequencing unit in your DJ sets or your bedroom-produced techno shenanigans, right? You'd love to bang all night and make sounds that soar above the others!

It's a great unit, really flexible for a "groovebox" and works like a charm. It's minty and it has manuals and there's tons of patterns to get you started on the web. It's what you need, my friend. You need this unit like you need air.

If I've not convinced you, check out http://www.yamahasynth.com/pro/rm1x/ and http://www.rm1x.net (that's in German, but you'll find a bunch of patterns by clicking on "Website" and then "Download.)

This unit sells for $650 new. $350 on eBay. But you, you're getting an awesome deal from me. Write me. Click on that link. You know you want to.

In other news, my next entry will be from Oregon, if I'm near a computer there.

The Pork Chop Express.

Which B-Movie Badass Are You?
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OK.

I'm going to tell you guys a story. I just posted the majority this on the Dirty boards in the "Songs That Kill You" thread.

I done a woman wrong, once. Like in a blues song, that kind of wrong. We knew it was over, but we kept wanting to make it work. This was the year of Reverence by Faithless. The year of "Salve Mea" and "Insomnia." The album had other depths, though. "Don't Leave" was track two, and it's a devastating piece of work. Jamie Catto sings the saddest, most miserable lyric ever, wanting his lover to stay.

We were in the car when we first heard the record. I remember distinctly looking out the window, trying to avoid her gaze during the song. When it was over, I saw her eyes running over with tears. I broke down with her and we cried for the next three songs before we straightened up and walked into the restaurant, where friends waited.

I still get moments where I feel like a bastard for doing that woman wrong and that song can still make me a weepy sister.

I've caught this show a few times in the mornings while flipping for news or weather. It's almost a parody of morning chat shows - it's so bad. I have no idea who either of these people are or why KingWorld thinks we need to see them. In fact, it almost seems like it's a Mr Show sketch as compared to a real program that a television station actually paid to carry. One of the things that really flips my switches is how obvious the female host is when it's time to bring up something from the show's meeting. She pauses, glances to the stage manager, and flips her hair as she says "So, about the lunchladies that won the lottery..." or "Jack, I hear you really like unprotected anal sex with black transvestite hookers..." and it hits me as being even more fake that Sharon Osbourne.

Do not, under any circumstances, accidentally type "wwwblogger.com" into your browser. Trust me. I actually had to put my bagel down and try to keep the vomit at bay.

Connie Willis may be a spotty writer, but boy do I like To Say Nothing Of The Dog. Aaron pointed it out to me after I'd sent him a copy of Stephen Frye's Making History, which I heartily recommend to those who want their science fiction without any of that pesky technobabble that so many writers indulge in. I picked up the Willis novel because I actually couldn't bother to finish Architects of Emortality by Stableford. Something about naming your lead characters Charlotte Holmes and Oscar Wilde was a little twee, even for me, and I love Belle and Sebastian and Simon and Garfunkel.

Hey, I still can't use scissors to save my life. It's taken me thirty minutes to trim the track listing for the New Order CDs that I made for Doug and Kari. Kari told me that she's only seen the video for "The Perfect Kiss" and it turned her off of the band, which I can understand, as they're so dour. I actually had a fairly difficult time coming up with the track listing for this. I wanted to make sure that I hit the good singles (note - I managed to lose "State of the Nation" and "Thieves Like Us" in the shuffle) while highlighting album tracks, including my favorite song by the band, "Mr. Disco." Now, if they don't become fans, there's no hope for them.

Work has been more than a bit insane; end of the month rush, don't you know?

Download iTunes for your machine if you don't have it already. Best. Application. Ever. And make sure you listen to Groove Salad under the Radio / Ambient category. It's my preferred workday listening, as it doesn't involve a morning zoo crew or any of that stuff.

More Fund Comics is out. It was the usual mixed bag that these sorts of anthologies are, but all the proceeds go to the Comic Book Legal Defense Fund, and that's a fine group to support.

So, of late, some people I know have been stark raving mad.

They can stop that now.

I asked Aaron about this the other day. Should I have more loyalty to small business or to employees/workers? The reason this comes up is sort of silly - coffee. I've got limited coffee options near my workplace - Dunkin' Donuts (which treats its employees like shit and is a huge company), Starbucks (which is a massive company that sued a cartoonist, but gives employees benefits right off the bat and does a lot for literacy), or Cafe Au Lait, which is a small business in which the middle-Eastern owner/manager treats his (mostly hispanic) staff like complete shit. Today, I saw said owner/manager throw ceramic cups around and grab a dishwasher by the collar, shaking him like Louise Woodward in a spastic fit. Starbucks wins, apparently, in downtown. They know my order (venti Mocha, extra shot), and always spend a second chatting to me. That means a lot.

Not that the one in Davis Square will get my business. If Rusty from Diesel Cafe saw me there, she'd rush out with a broken bottle and gut me.

You should read Todd's website as he does fine, fine comics and his daily journal makes me smile.

I can't make this shit up. No, I'm not posting the link. It's disgusting.

HERE AM PICTURES OF BIZARRO KEVIN AND KRISTIN AT BAD RESTAURANT BORDER CAFE.

So, the water cooler in the office. You know the type - big huge bottle on top, refrigeration mechanism inside so you can press down a button and get tasty spring water chilled to perfection. We've got a pair of them here at the office and they work nicely. I've worked with a few that could do piping hot water for your oatmeal or whatever, but these don't have that ability. They just chill the water. Changing the bottles is a real pain, of course, but we suck up and try to do it. Some are better than others and like the whole lugging-the-jug thing and make the best effort to switch them out as quickly as possible.

Some aren't so good at it.

Currently, there's a nice-sized puddle and I hear people sloshing through it all the time. Nobody's confessed to trying to switch out the bottle, either. (No, it's not me. I'm a bottle ninja.)

I've got theories though. Unless Leo's developed a bladder problem, he's my suspected culprit.

Turn around, Melissa. Turn around so I can see you, the cop keeps thinking.

St. Petersburg police Sgt. Tim Montanari is sitting in the front row of the courtroom, staring at the defendant's back. He wants to see her face.

Is this the prostitute he arrested for selling herself for $8 and a Baby Ruth bar?

Or the little girl he used to babysit a lifetime ago, back when their families lived next door to each other?

If any part of that girl is still alive, the cop wants to help find her. That's why he's here.

He has never done anything like this before. Usually, he just reads from the reports, helps put people in jail. Today, he's going to speak up for the second-most-arrested prostitute in St. Petersburg, a known crack addict. He has come on this September day to ask the judge to give her a break.

His palms are sweating. His knees are shaking.

This is fine reporting. From the Obscure Store, a more than decent newsmine.

they are the suckiest group on the planet. their music is total crap. they are inferior worthless wannabee stupid neo-new wave dumb-ass watered down tone-deaf soulless shitheads. I can't believe I wasted $12 on a CD of theirs - I tried something new and got jacked! So what I want to do is take their stupid dumb CD with the stupid idiotic yellow cover, smash it into a thousand shards of plastic and jam it down their stupid throats. I have made better music in the bathroom than these fuckheads ever could in 20 fucking years. All your music programs could create random static and still come up with better music than this shit. I really wish I could sue them or mug them and get my damn money back for buying their CD. And yellow is a sucky color to put on a CD. No picture, just a big blank empty stupid yellow cover. Empty and dumb just like them and their music. Why did I buy it. Their stupidity is so vast it created a temporary disturbance in the space-time continuum which caused me to buy that fucking CD. I've injured myself on several occassions, but all those injuries were pure pleasure compared with listening to their CD for the first time. They can't sing and their guitar playing sounds dumb and empty as well. Why do they exist? Why are they even breathing? I used to have faith in God but then I heard Joy Division and now I know there is no God if He would allow such a shitty band to exist. It should be illegal for Joy Division to make music - a constitutional amendment should be enacted that specifically prohibits Joy Division from making music.

To summarize, I hate Joy Division. Thank you.

So, you don't like the band?

A new law enacted Sept. 15 outlaws those under 18 from using matchmaking sites and, for the first time, makes the children who advertise their sexual services on them liable for punishment such as fines of up to 1 million yen or trial before a family court.

Many sailor-suited strumpets are not even aware that the new law places them in danger or prosecution, but say it won't stop their entrepreneurial pursuits in the least.

"A new law? It's more like 'What new law?' I'm always just going to post the same message - enjo kosai, 20,000 yen," Eriko Mikasa, a 16-year-old high schoolgirl tells Spa!

The "enjo kosai" that Eriko refers to is the euphemistic name given to prostitution, usually by schoolgirls, which translates literally as "compensated dating."

OK, seriously. Grant Morrison is kicking the living shit out of every X-Men writer since the halcyon days of Claremont / Byrne. Reading the latest issue of New X-Men last night with its widescreen action and beautiful art by Phil Jimenez. (I will say some of the coloring was odd - not over-rendered, really, but just overly enthusiastic.)

Finished Iain Bank's Excession, which made my head hurts lot, but is a fine, fine science fiction novel that's not quite space opera, not quite hard science fiction. The Culture reminds me of Brin's Uplift universe but without the precious "look at what daddy built you" feel that writer seems to drip excessively over his work. Apparently, I should have read other Culture novels first, but I was fine with this one. It wasn't hard to follow - you just had to concentrate more than one would with the average Star Wars novel, which tends to be as much science fiction as I normally read.

What? A man can read Star Wars novels, OK?

Ew. EW. Fine, ruin it for every other male out there. Don't be surprised when your ass is kicked.

"We were standing in the kitchen when some guy opened up the back door, walked into the kitchen and started to masturbate," Kraus said.

She identified the man as wearing khaki pants, a plaid shirt and an imitation of the mask used in the movie "Scream." Kraus and Shannon said it took a minute for them to understand what was going on; they initially thought the person was a friend of theirs pulling a prank.

ASPlatinum1: the photo with the dog is hard to get one's head around. he just doesn't seem a dog person.

New Order are weird.

Yang Liwei is down to Earth again. While I'm not fond at all of the Chinese government and its many abuses, I can't help but be proud of this man.

It was after General Gau had conquered us and Mr. Show had made us laugh when Lynn broke out the camera. A couple of these aren't bad.

"An animal rights group is demanding that Robbie Williams remove footage of a chimpanzee with a gun from his live show."

(Thanks, Monkeywire.)

So, I saw Kill Bill last night.

Everything that is right with American and Asian cinema in the last 50 years is represented with this movie.

Tarantino's a clever bastard. It's probably intentional that The RZA did the original music for the film; his obsession with kung-fu movies is well-documented and Tarantino's cut and paste asthetic to film seems to mimic hip-hop's sampling. He takes a snippet from a HK gangster movie, a bite from a samurai movie, adds a dash of old spaghetti western music, and just lets us watch the mayhem.

There's some comedy here, but there's no extended monologues like Pulp Fiction. The emotional core of Jackie Brown is missing, but then you don't have Lucy Liu whacking a guy's head off in that flick, so I'd say it's a fair cop. I'm being really unfair to compare Kill Bill to Tarantino's other works, really. While there's a few obvious nods to his first three movies (we don't count Four Rooms - only the Rodriguez bit in that was any good.) There's The Trunk Shot and the Doorbell Ringing Shot, but the rest of this movie is a complete 90-degree turn from the others.

As for the Volume 1 / Volume 2 thing that has some people bitching - by the time this part comes to an end, you are exhausted. I told Doug that the movie ended right when I would pause the DVD, get up, stretch, go get a soda, maybe make a call and generally relax before getting back to the proceedings. Fine, fine work, all in all.

But, anyway, other people have reviewed the movie better than I can, so go read their stuff. I'm just a humble caveman...

Also, eat at Penang. Holy mackarel, it's tasty. Kathy had the ginger chicken and I had singapore rice noodles. Both prepared perfectly well and with app and tip, we walked out for $33, all told. Nice!

So, I go to Target to get some Claritin for my big trip to see Doug and Kari. (They have cats, see. And they want me to be able to play Animal Crossing and such at their place.) Here's the deal - the "real deal" Claritin is $10 for 10 pills or something like $30 for a month's supply. (That number is off, I'm sure.) The generic Target-branded stuff is $4 for ten pills or $11 for 30.

Why, again, do people buy the branded stuff? It's the same chemical formula. They made their money at Schering Plough already, so I don't feel the need to support them any more.

Drug prices are bothering me again; this usually happens after I see an episode of The West Wing about it or catch something on the news about old ladies eating cat food from the tin to buy their pain medication.

Never, ever, ever say that Radiohead is a "Gayband" when there's stuff like this out there. Poor Rob. Or Fab. Whichever one offed himself because he wasn't a megastar.

I have no idea why I own so many remixes of New Order songs, as I rarely actually like them. Exceptions being the takes on "True Faith" back in 1994, and the occasional Technique era re-rub by people like Kevin Saunderson. Just something that popped in my head while listening to the much-maligned Retro box set. (Really, it isn't bad, but compared to what the fans expect, it's a disappointment.)

Oh, wait. I know why.

I'm a trainspotter.

I just know I'm not going to find this. A Beatles mash-up with people like Jacko and Radiohead!

Well, I helped The Hulk shut down his "diary" today. Rather sad about the whole thing, really, but the comedy well has been running kind of dry of late, and with Arnold in power, nothing else is remotely funny. Not that I will focus my energies to become a political blogger or anything. I'll probably continue to whinge about the same old crap. That's my style.

Someone want to finish this for me?

Thursday, 4AM. The phone in my pocket is vibrating and I know it's Kate asking where the fuck I am, but the hail of bullets over my head is preventing me updating her. I check the ammo left - four rounds for five baddies. It's save the planet time and I'm coming up short.

Next to me, Takeshi's coughing up blood. Bastard opted to try some of his kung-fu shit against the mob of angry Russians toting some upgraded firepower that, last I heard, was supposed to still be in a lab the Navy had in the desert.

I catch my breath and...

It's not the best, but I sort of like the opening. Maybe it'll be part of NaNoWriMo, which I'm debating being part of this year.

Oh, for what it's worth, from a post I made on Junk:

Speaking of Belle and Sebastian, the new one is a sun-kissed bit of pop.
Trevor Horn produces the band and they have a focus that I've not seen on
previous recordings. The only slightly dodgy song is the last track, which
sounds like the Buggles covering Tommy Tutone.

That's the short version. It'll take a few more listens before it sinks it properly, but let me tell you, the opening song is so perfect, so funny, so damned sexy, that you'll smile for an hour after hearing it.

Well, we've got an action movie star controlling the world's fifth largest economy now.

Some choice bits from the above link:

In another brilliant move, Schwarzenegger committed to only one televised debate, on the condition that he received the questions in advance.

Had he been someone else, he may have been mortally wounded by the allegations made by, at last count, 16 women that he was a serial groper and sexual harasser. Schwarzenegger had known this bombshell was coming as his behaviour over decades with women was an open secret in Hollywood.

Schwarzenegger benefited, too, from a relatively short campaign - 76 days - in which he could speak in generalities and be all things to all people: he is against new taxes, for better schools, clean air and beaches, less traffic.

It's sad that I had to go to an aussie news site to find a media outlet critical of the Governator, the man who actually had the balls to quote his films as part of his campaign schtick.

God.

Shannon on the Election In California.

Tuesday, October 7th 2003 16:14:54, from Binder

CNN said more than 2 million absentee ballots have already been received.
Too bad that California uses Skynet-backed voting machines.

[666 Prattle Cooks At Midnight] msg #61,115 (1 remaining) > Read Next

Really good interview with Karl from Underworld.

In fact we've asked for bootlegs at times. We'll phone up Scott who runs the dirty site, and say 'what's the hot bootleg at the moment?' and he'll say 'There's one from a club in Munich. There's a great version of King of Snake.' And we'll say 'Really, can you get hold of it for us because we'd like to hear what it was we were doing that night.' It's not like you can say 'Here's the recording of the 2002 tour and it's the same every night, and (this version of this song) has screwed up the live album.' It hasn�t screwed up the live album, you just happened to record it in Chicago. In New York, we were rocking! And in Glasgow, we did this fantastic version of Rez to die for!' So I don't have a problem with that.

On 5 June 1995 an adult male mallard (Anas platyrhynchos) collided with the glass fa�ade of the Natuurmuseum Rotterdam and died. An other drake mallard raped the corpse almost continuously for 75 minutes. Then the author disturbed the scene and secured the dead duck. Dissection showed that the rape-victim indeed was of the male sex. It is concluded that the mallards were engaged in an �Attempted Rape Flight� that resulted in the first described case of homosexual necrophilia in the mallard.

Yes, there's photos. Vylar finds the strangest things.

New Kylie. NEW. KYLIE.

Yes, I adore the tiny little pixie.

What a weekend, my friends.

Saw pals Gabe and Gwen randomly on the street, on my way home from the Somerville Library sale. There would be pictures if I'd remembered to bring the camera. Both looked great - life in New Jersey seems to appeal to them. Gabe gave me his email address, but not Gwen's. I know it's because she crushes on me. Admit it, girl.

The library sale was great fun, with many, many books to be had on the cheap. I picked up an embarassing number of classic Trek related things, most specifically the Log books that were adaptations of episodes of the Animated Series. Why is that not on DVD? Tell me, somebody. Anybody? (Yes, I am a nerd. A big honkin' one. Women still love me for my rapier wit and ability to order General Gau's chicken no matter what my state of intoxication. More on the General later.)

Worked at the shop with Aaron on Sunday - he did downstairs stuff while I did all the retail stuff upstairs. His girl Sarah's in town and apparently spent a huge amount at Pluto in Davis Square, buying cards and bags and a cute vest with a hood. Hoodie vest? What? Fashion over functionality there, kids. I also had a pleasant meeting with a cat named Bruce - he's the person who makes sure you can subscribe to Bloom County online and get Bill, Opus, et al delivered to your email at a very decent cost. I don't normally believe in paying for content delivery, but since Bruce is a nice guy (who wants my New Order bootlegs), I'll give some props in his general direction.

Now, about General Gau. Me and him, we've had a thing. It's been really good, it's been really bad, but General Gau's Chicken has been a constant in my life. I usually get it from Dragon Garden, who manage to do a General that's not too sweet and has a nice bite and I considered it the best I'd ever had until Lynn Breymer and I decided to order from Yummy Hut. Since then, my life has been immensely better. The balance between sweet and spicy makes your pupils dilate and you enter a trance state. The chicken is perfectly cooked and the veg doesn't seem just tossed in randomly. Oh, I could go on for pages about the chicken from Yummy Hut, but their name says it all.

Now, if they'd just sell T-shirts with their logo.

Mr. Fraction pointed this excellent site with all the Esquire covers.

Nobody told Sheila that her Vixen tribute band sucked.

In the early days, the Hong Kong Cavaliers really, really needed to work on their costuming and stage antics.

(Thanks to TV'S Spatch for the links and making me laugh.)

So, I found this page of really good DJ mixes in the "underground" category. "#49 Late Night Solitude in the HyperModer Urban Core" is so glitchy and good.

Who is surprised by this? The man's "rap name" was C-Murder and he is convicted for murder? No fucking way!

Autumn has fallen into my lap. Frisky beyond recall, and wanting to mangle any willing female with my sexual prowess. This is weather for Joy Division records and a big cup of coffee. I was thinking about artists/records I associate with seasons and came up with this (brief) list.

Winter: Sigur Ros, �g�tis byrjun; Royksopp, Melody AM (especially "Sparks", which is just so perfect for late night headphones while you watch the snow drop); Miles Davis, Kind Of Blue. Underworld, Second Toughest In The Infants especially the last three or four tracks.

Spring: Pet Shop Boys, Very; New Order Technique (excluding "Mr. Disco," which is so very autumn that it hurts); John Coltrane, My Favorite Things.

Summer: Underworld, Beaucoup Fish ("Jumbo" is all warm sidewalks and happy children); Pet Shop Boys, Bilingual; Pop Will Eat Itself, The Looks Or The Lifestyle; and Public Enemy's It Takes A Nation Of Millions To Hold Us Back because you want to riot when Chuck D lays into it and summer really is riot season, innit and most emphatically Coltrane's A Love Supreme. Power, raw and pure.

Fall: Underworld, A Hundred Days Off (like I'd forget this record) and Dubnobasswithmyheadman. (Sex drips from the latter, even the climactic shriek of "Cowgirl" screams to your naughty bits); Portishead, Dummy; Massive Attack, any record, but the No Protection collaboration with Mad Professor is the bestest for this weather.

I do like my records, don't I?

Thursday, October 30, 2003

Wednesday, October 29, 2003

Tuesday, October 28, 2003

Monday, October 27, 2003

Friday, October 24, 2003

Thursday, October 23, 2003

Wednesday, October 22, 2003

Tuesday, October 21, 2003

Monday, October 20, 2003

Friday, October 17, 2003

Thursday, October 16, 2003

Wednesday, October 15, 2003

Tuesday, October 14, 2003

Friday, October 10, 2003

Thursday, October 09, 2003

Wednesday, October 08, 2003

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

Monday, October 06, 2003

Friday, October 03, 2003

Thursday, October 02, 2003

Wednesday, October 01, 2003

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