Was it only six years ago that I had enough personal free time to play in a band and read a novel a week? Is it the terrorists, the capitalists, or the technologists that have stolen my time away? Who do I sue?
Per Bart: Funeral for a Friend. Helen Hill gets laid to rest in NOLA. Alternafreaks lay claim to the foundations of American culture and win a stake to the title by blood right. Get the fuck out of the way, dammit.
Thanks to Mugu Brainpan, I wonder if the triumph that is the They Might Be Giants LP Flood moughtn't relate to the 'hermetic artist' Robert Fludd.
In a previous online life, copious speculation on a graphic-design email list I belonged to led to the enunciation of a postulated theory of hermetic design, as modernist design principles are closely founded upon medieval European traditions of harmony and good measure, which, in turn, stem from Greek-enunciated principles of harmony and proportion. Careful readers will be unsurprised to learn that it has long been my opinion that the closest students of these lessons in the middle ages were persons operating within the expanding economies of the Islamic sphere of influence.
Here's the Beeb on that story about the advanced geometry of Islamic art I was flappin' my gums about at Greg and Stacey's t'other day. The coverage doesn't capture the “NO SHIT, SHERLOCK” sense I had as I listened to the coverage, but the last time I really had the same sense of the obvious was listening to Colin Powell lie his head off about WMD in Iraq to the UN. In each instance I was shouting at the radio.
E. Steven chez SIFFBlog stands the fuck up for Nick. The New Yorker review (I think, can't recall exactly) celebrated the performance as well. Citing other reviewers' appreciation of my own fave Cage vehicle, the gotta-see-it-to-beleive-it-Vampire's-Kiss (best if watched as the lead-in on a double bill with Repulsion), he builds to this inescapable, irrefutable truth:
Lastly, and most importantly, despite all its shortcomings, the film is basically a bunch of images of a demonic, flaming skull-guy on a motorcycle. Maybe it's the Scorpio Rising fan in me, but that right there is pretty much a movie.
I'll buy that for a dollar!
Tom noticed this too: League: Rize up!!! [del.icio.us].
Being over 40, I dinna see how a barin mought add to the party, alas. I'll dredge my age-weakened brain-cells thru the intrickacy of a weekend.
Happily, Bart found Another Day in NOLA to be heartening this week. Here in Seattle, I merely served red beans and rice followed a day later by some truly astounding salmon, but you fucking bet i was thinking of the Crescent City all week. And not only Baghdad - I also thought of New Orleans and her import to that nation!
The Stranger: RIP, Charles Gocher of Sun City Girls
(Confidential to Alice Dee: oddly, I don't think I woulda linked to this if we'd not spoken. It's the first day of Lent, and all day I have been plotting a delicious fish feast. Perhaps this relates to the untimely passing of Dr. Gocher, fellow venturist.)
UPDATE: A commenter on the Line Out post above links to this fantastic picture of Charlie, one of the ways I will always remember him.
The wind is growling around the house and through the trees. Our fire is keeping us warm and sleepy.
It seems that the International Atomic Energy Agency has determined that it must needs stand up for terrible design and design by committee with the release of the eye-poppingly fucked-up 'improvement' to the extant rediation symbol. Seriously, how stupid can an international bureaucracy be?
The long-held symbol, the well-known three-wedge-on-yellow design, effectively combined the four dark areas of a death's head with a clear and elegant visualization of both radiation and half-life, the dark areas occupying one half of the radiating circle about the node's center point.
The 'improved' symbol places a much-reduced-in-size old symbol (presumably the source of the agency's design need, as incomprehensible or insufficient) at the apex of a less-generally-known sign shape, 'hazard triangle,' against an unfamiliar red background, lessening the contrast between the darker and lighter areas of the symbol at the same time as the overall size of the emblem is reduced by about three quarters.
Then the rest of the triangle is filled with a cornucopia of inharmoniously-combined elements. From top to bottoms and left to right, the old radiation symbol at the apex of the triangle sheds a bouquet of downward-pointing spermatozoa, which menace to the leaft of the triangle a peculiarly-spindly-boned jolly roger (black bones on a red field, certain to confuse aline intellegences, vast, cool, and unsympathetic who will note that most mammal bones are greyish white), an international dot-head figure in flight, apparently from the giant black skull, and an arrow rendered at the same density as the running dot-head figure and possibly indicating that one should flee large black skulls when menaced from the sky by wriggling arrowhead spermatozoa.
Seriously, this is the most terrible international signage ever envisioned. If they really thought the old symbol was no good, why the fuck would you bother to keep it in the new 'improved' symbol?
The new, uh, design, combines no fewer than SIX (hazard triangle, radiation badge, rays, death's head, running man, arrow) independently existing symbols and changes the color scheme of the existing and most effective symbol to a less effective scheme. Furthermore, presumably someone on the committee that came up with this horrible menace to communication is at least familiar with the transition, 20 years gone, from the death's head to Mr. Yuk?
Honestly, if that's the quality of work that comes out of the IAEA these days, then I can state that the GWB objective of hollowing out the agency in order to enable more plausible invasion scenarios in Iran and Korea is well in hand. An agency that promulgates this logo has the credibility of a hungry toddler and the threat capacity of an enraged grizzly bear.
It's so awful, in fact, that I suspect a hoax.
I regret to report that the New Yorker double-issue of this week, Feb. 19-26, 2007 contains a dynamite main course in Mark Singer's long piece, The Castaways. Why the regret for a terrific piece? Well, it ain't online, so I can't extract or link. You, dear reader, will be forced to the extremis of commerce to chime with or reject my observations on the composition.
The issue is the annual Eustace Tilley cover number, for those taking note. Act now, supplies are limited.
In the article, Singer recounts the tale, verging on a year gone, of the Mexican Pacific Coast fishermen found over nine months adrift and five thousand miles west of their port, San Blas, Mexico. I recall reading the initial coverage of the rescued men and the nearly-immediate skepticism of the men's tale in the press. Reading a long-form sympathetic retelling of the men's months adrift is nothing sort of remarkable even if it does not provide a prescriptive verdict on the truth or fiction of aspects of the tale. The men appear to be the exception to those we build mariners' memorials to, and the detailed recounting of their time adrift may serve as proxy for the countless others never found out upon the trackless main.
It was as warm and clear as promised, temperatures nearing seventy as the day wore on. Viv and I accomplished a great deal, with her attending a class on dogmanship in the morning while I did load after load after load of laundry. On her return, she straightened a couple rooms in the house and I tidied up the gardening area on the porch prior to departing for the long-delayed housewarming party of some friends.
While at the party we discovered not only that the dog trainer is someone we already have known peripherally for several years but that her husband is a project manager at the firm who did the house remodel. The remodel, by the way, was really stunning, easily one of the best domestic spaces I have ever seen and as spacious as one could possibly hope for.
nyt_02162007.jpg 1008×1117 pixels (via BB): Oh, they don't look all THAT divided. Perhaps some fresh black metal 'zine subscriptions would pick them right up.
Nouri posted an intriguing look at Alcibiades that caught my attention. I wrote this as a comment for his blog, but my age must be showing as the spam-defeating measures were beyond my patience. I emailed it to him and eventually decided it was a blog post in-and-of, etc. I assume the essay is something he posted in the just pride of scholastic accomplishment. I was engaged by it, as I enjoy the classics very much and always appreciate a contrary view. As the response below was composed as a comment, please forgive any pompous blowharding. ;)
Indeed, there is a fiercely individualistic character to this robe-dragging, lisp carrying Athenian, but, at the root, this is all a mask for the imperatives of the city-state of Athens.
I'm intrigued by Nouri's choice of subject for contrarian rehabilitation. Taking it as granted that we might challenge the narrative of Plutarch, a first point of consideration might be that an advisable course of challenge would be grounded in direct sources apart from that well-beloved talespinner. Granted that resources may be tight, I'll adopt a primary-sourced close-reading model and proceed in yoke with him.
First, it interests me that Nouri might choose to view the life choices of a man that clearly valued both dominant cultures of his socioeconomic circle as worthy of service such that the Athenian traitor (the conventional position on Alcibiades' Athenian and later Trojan political service) becomes the Athenian patriot rather than considering or expounding the possiblity that Alcibiades', um, flexibility of mind might have led him to serve each in turn and both at the same time, and just possibly, himself before either (my own opinion).
I do grant that my view supports the conventional verdict on the man; but I must confess, when I review what know of his character I also find many compelling things about him and his acts in Athens. However, I wholeheartedly endorse the viewpoint that Alcibiades' foolish and self-serving interest in an imperial Athens essentially destroyed the city-state (plague or no plague - if there had been no plague, the undermined economy would have failed at the next catastophe), and I certainly do draw the lessons for today that one might expect.
One wonders if exile might not be well-suited in today's world, for the evidence is that it broadens the mind, yes?
But I tease. I love the classics, and I love them for the very reasons the plays remain important to us today: studying the events of the past and the personalities involved can give us a wonderful set of tools for interpreting the events of today. I hope Nouri keeps that eye on the classics, and keeps looking for a contrary interpretation.
With regard to celebrating Alcibiades' imperial vision as patriotic, though, in my view, since his time (and undoubtedly before - alas for the undeciphered, lost, or nonexistent tablets of Mojeno-Daro and Catal Hyuk) each deployment of that vision has been by self-serving criminals, and the cost of that vision has exceeded its' benefits since at least the time of Athens. The cost upfront is to the contested locale in blood and economic opportunity and the longer-term cost has been the ultimate failure of both the social and economic structures of the wannabe empire. I am sure that we all concur on this, although I admit my certainty stems from an inability to understand how a reasonable person can view the facts otherwise.
On a side note, may I suggest for your amusement that you seek out the Cartoon History of the Universe, Vols I and II? The author is very amusing and his scholarship - and enthusiasm for Petrarch - is strong. He generally presents the recieved wisdom / standard interpretation, followed by his own take, often quite original and always originally presented.
I'm embarking on the Fagles Aenid this week and expect to be really pissed off every week I explore it. I wouldn't miss it for the world.
On another side note, Nouri's (and later the pros') news of resurgent bombings in the Kabilye has me heartsick. Your own trajectory, on the other hand, lightens my day even when I suspect we may not share political perspectives in every detail. Hope you're doing well.
Cringely pulls some amusing speculation outta his piehole on why a) iTV has a hard drive and b) iTV, Mini, and the new-model Airport all are designed as stackable components. Where others would boldy solve the conundrum with cries of 'design obsessives!', der Cringler connects the dots via Unca Stevie's recently declared jihad on DRM and foresees Apple edging out the cable companies via install-base numbers and cheap-ass hard-drives.
I'm not buying it, but the case is solid enough that someone is going to be shipping 200+ gb drives wrapped in networkable set-top boxes that cost nothing except a subscription promise by the end of the year. i think I'll sign up for all of them, just to to strip-mine the drives and sell 'em on ebay for the first year.
I totally missed the memo, but TCJ editor emeritus Dirk Deppey has bravely picked up the banner of the sorely missed Journalista chez fanta. Several years ago, Dirk launched the site embedded in the upolished confies of the Fantagraphics website and within months, due simply to absurd internet diligence, had transformed the site into not only the single-best comics news-roundup site on the web, but in many ways, into the single-best topic-focused newsblog on the web. When he was rightly selected to head TCJ, the site was understandably suspended; now that's he's back at it, who knows what will happen. If Fanta doesn't see how to properly capitalize on Deppey's magnificent obsession, I am sure someone shall. I am sure that his TCJ stint has if anything sharpened his capacity for the job.
Dirk, what you do with Journalista is formally astounding considered simply from a blogging perspective. the fact that it is comics which inspires your labors is a credit to Fanta, and to you.
Seattle Parks & Recreation: Off-Leash Areas in Parks. For reference. Golden Gardens, Magnuson, and Northacres look closest. Still need to find a zero-density area to go for non-pack offleash time.
As spotted on the Vulgar Boatmen listgroup: Jonathan Lethem's upcoming novel, You Don't Love Me Yet, is titled after a justly-admired Vulgar Boatmen tune. Intriguing possibility!
Tom's powers of concentration are rightly celebrated. Although IMHO Access is the place to be pivo-tabling (nota bene, 'pivo', orig. Czech, 'to drink', 'getting drunk'), for god's sake.
I received an email (presumably due to these blog posts) from the owners of Tacoma's hallowed Java Jive at the end of January and promptly forgot to post it here.
Forthwith:
“I love coffee, I love tea, I love the Java Jive and it loves me”.
Those words have been the life story of the little Coffee Pot on South Tacoma Way for 80 years now.
I'm the grandson of Bob. My mom is Danette Staatz, I'm Rich Staatz.
Tacoma fire code and other factors have shut us down for the time being.
We have been in the Tacoma Tribune since January 25th and on, and all over the TV regarding this.
Volunteers have stepped in to help, i.e.: Blaze Electric pulled a permit with their own money the next day after the close. Tacoma Electric Supply has donated and gave reduced cost on supplies. Journeymen electrical contractors have been donating there time to demo and rewire the jive, family and friends/customers have been cleaning and getting rid of stuff. But we need more help.
We need: neon people, roofers, plumbers, carpenters, floor covering people, upholstery people, painters, etc.
We need cash donations or supplies to help renovate the Jive and get her back on her feet so she can keep on loving and caring for her customers for another 80 years.
I remember the days when I used to tend the bar back in ’93. The Jive was still the Jive with all its branches and stuff and it felt so alive, people really cared about it. They weren’t ripping up seats and writing things that were rude and uncalled for.
I see the Jive being something you could bring your kids or grandma too without a blind fold and still be a blast for all. God…I can’t seem to get the Simpsons nights out of my head, those were some good times. J!!
BTW:
Tacoma Fire Dept made us take down all the branches and other decor that made the Jive unique. We will be putting some back up, but not all, after fire coating them.
We LOVE the Jive with all our hearts, and that feeling is mutual with most of the people who’ve been there.
The Jive has been a good friend to all who came through her doors.
Like my grandpa Bob use to say “there's no free lunch here” but then would give the shirt off his back to help someone out of a jam, maybe even to a fault (if you were around, you know what I’m talking about). Moms the same way and yes even to a fault.
The Jive needs help out of a jam! Lets make her proud again!!
Donations to “Bob's Java Jive” can be made at any:
Washington Federal Savings Bank or HomeStreet Bank
Anything helps!!
Thank you!!!
Bob's Java Jive
2102 South Tacoma Way
253-475-9843
I have been publishing private iCal feeds to iCalx.com for years now, and have been wrangling iCal, iSync, and Google calendar to play nice over the past few weeks. I have my gCal feeds directing into iCal and thence to the phone with no difficulty, but there is no obvious way that I can see to direct public or private iCal feeds into Google Calendar as subscriptions. One may easily import to Google Calendar, but it appears to me that the 'add calendar by address' feature does not work as one might hope, limiting Google Calendar subscriptions to calendars hosted under Google Calendar.
This is aggravatingly counterintuitive to me, as the beauty of the iCal subscription format is clearly the ability to simply use transparent URLs.
I suppose that something happening at iCalx could be interrupting the data-pass, and that I could set up a local-file-system mirror of the .ics files such that I could keep an eye on the entire data transfer, but the reason I wanted to set this up was not to experience the joy of debugging data-piping, but to enable polymorphous data-entry on any of my primary device platforms - web, Mac, or handheld. My time budget to accomplish this, including research time, is consumed, and I'm irritated.
C-17E 3-Channel Radio Remote Controlled RC Airplane RTF RC BiPlane: $80. Well, that IS tempting. Sadly, not constructed of Nerf foam.
The Society for Ethnomusicology and especially me, Mike Whybark (although the Society has seen fit to suppress many, indeed, the majority of, specific aspects of their requests in previously published versions of this acoustifesto):
* calls for full disclosure of U.S. government-sanctioned and funded programs that design the means of delivering music as torture;
* condemns the use of music or noise although how the fuck it's possible to definitively delineate a goddamn difference is beyond my weak-ass means to determine but it really fucking pisses me off that assholes some of whom I may have met or may meet personally in the next forty-to-sixty years engage their time to 'defend' what they mistakenly perceive as our shared economic or political interests by perverting one of the most astonishing and nearly holy facets of human social creativity into a weapon revealing the true and absolute nature of all our interactions with one another as wholly predatory and therefore never worthwhile for one moment from the day of birth forward and fuck you oh fuck you oh fuck you may my money turn to shit in your hands as an instrument of torture at which improbable instance I shall laugh; and
* demands that the United States government and its agencies cease using music or noise such as that commonly found on top-forty radio or independent 'experimental' radio stations with the ironic exception of the compositions of Iannis Xenakis as an instrument of physical and psychological torture, insofar as it may be possible given the generally dismal prospects of providing commercially successful music which may be fairly judged not to be an instrument of physical and psychological torture.
As I waited to turn north on 4th on my way home, an odd-looking plane, banking in to Boeing Field, caught my eye. Never having seen one on approach to a dirt landing, the steeply-raked engines atop the wing fooled me into unknowing. The plane, a flying boat in U. S. Navy dress blue-and-gold, was almost certainly a restored PBY Catalina. Over a decade ago, that model of plane in similar livery flew an excursion service off the glassine surface of Lake Union. What a treat; I dearly love each glimpse of flying dinosaur I get and treasure each memory. My neck-craning gawkery at the stop sign led to the Seattle version of a Noo Yawk salute: somewhere behind me, someone politely 'beep-beeped' with the intent of guilting me off the cell phone, a faulty assumption.
Note to self: I remember seeing some interesting Applescript doohickeys that performed certain actions based on the name of the wireless network connection currently active. I need to dig that up to create conditional, timed mounts and dismounts of come network shares.
WANTED: Old-style Apple firewire iSight. Will provide good home.
May have other antiquated and / or obsolescent Mac goodies to trade, going all the way back to SCSI and ADB peripherals. Probably the coolest stuff I have to offer for trade are ADB gaming inputs for flight simulators, including a Microsoft Sidewinder twisty stick and a CH Products throttle. I might have an ADB CH Fighterstick, non-twisty but full of buttony goodness, but I forget, as nontwisty frustrated me after I made the switch. I also have an 8 x 10 ADB Wacom tablet and might even be persuaded to part with a pair of USB CH flight pedals. What else? Yards of SCSI cables, several SCSI outboard drives including a very nice Jaz in a high-end housing, and a SCSI scanner. I do have a Griffin iMate ADB-to-USB adapter as well, but be advised, Mac OSX stopped including significant ancillary ADB code a few releases ago and in consequence, Griffin no longer supports the product.
Do not hold your breath for open-source driver support.
I realize the best candidate for this swap is someone who suffers from early-adopter-acqusitionitis and therefore prolly has boxes of superannuated gear, rendering my kind offer to add to the junkyard less-than-attractive, but hey! You never know!
Damn Interesting : Clever Hans the Math Horse
The researchers also found evidence that hounding a horse with questions he can't answer leads to painful horse-bites.
Finally, a clear explanation of this story.
In other news, I am pleased to report that the newly reopened megasupermarket around the corner from the house offers, among other things, a pyramidal display of several varieties of Vietnamese-style thousand-year-old eggs. Huzzah!
I'm sorry, was that a hair-related question?
