EA/Maxis announced this week that they will be releasing SimCity 5 some time in 2013, and I must admit, I got a simulated boner thinking about it because SimCity is either my second or third favorite video game franchise. Mario Bros and Thief would be the other two.
In terms of hours spent playing, SimCity 3000 Unlimited is probably the game I've spent the most time with, and I still spend a day or two with it four or five times a year. This weekend will likely be one of those occasions.
Actually, I think I'm going to fire it up right now.
And for the record, there really is a Jerry Martin who wrote 20 full-length songs for the SimCity 3000 soundtrack. About half of them are performed by him on synths, and the other half performed by a Jazz quintet. This is one of his songs.
It was merely coincidence that I found myself in the Pacific Northwest a mere two months after Kurt Cobain blew his brains out in the greenhouse behind his Lake Washington home, but my stop in his hometown of Aberdeen was obviously no fluke.
I never fully adored Nirvana, though I did like and sometimes loved their music, but I was always fascinated by Cobain, the fellow left-handed guitar slinger whom I had held up for comparison to my own aspirations of rock stardom. In other words, Kurt Cobain had attained the life I had been dreaming of since I was 12 or 13, and more importantly, had essentially done it on his own terms, without compromising his artistic vision. The truth is - had I actually become a big rock star, it would have been with essentially the same kind of music Nirvana did - a heady mix of Punk and Metal, underpinned by a certain kind of pop song sensibility. I have several hundred 4-track tape masters dating back to 1986 that can attest to this fact.
At the time of his death, I would argue that I was a better guitarist than Cobain, and possibly a better lyricist, but in all other respects, he had me trumped - a better voice, better songs, better looks, better drugs, and more ambition. I always imagined in some alternate universe that I was the rockstar, the voice of my generation, while Alternakurt was the unknown slacker toiling away over his 4-track in permanent obscurity. This was my fascination and quasi-obsession with the man - the vagaries of success, and what it takes to become famous, that undefinable mix of talent and luck. And even more fascinating, the idea that Kurt Cobain had realized his dream, and then realized he didn't want any of it after all. In hindsight, I had decided it was for the best that I had remained a failure. I wasn't cut out for fame any more than he was.
Anyways, in the summer of 1994, I found myself in his hometown of Aberdeen, Washington, and quite simply, it was one of the saddest, ugliest towns I have ever seen with my own eyes. A poor, decrepit town nestled in a supremely beautiful landscape.
So, I wrote and recorded this song on my trusty old Tascam 4-track - a spoken word thing about entropy, decay, neglect, boredom and death. The quality of the recording isn't that great, and time hasn't been exactly kind to those old cassette masters, but I've come to think that it was one of those rare times when the execution of the song met my expectations.
And there you have it - the 200th installation of S4TW. Enjoy.
I didn't come up with the Vengeance Dad meme. Somebody at 4Chan no doubt did. We can all make our own, like I did here, over at quickmeme.com ...It's fun for the whole family. Hotcha! Hank
American Splendormight just be the story of my life, the story of so many of our lives - of dreams deferred almost daily, of slogging through and fighting the good fight, of losing in life while watching assholes and idiots win, and our only recourse is hoping there's a God and heaven, because there's usually no reward, temporary or eternal, for us sad sacks in this life. No, all we got is our bitching and our sense of humor. I guess that's enough.
From one ugly, irascible Polish-American to another - rest in peace, Harvey Pekar- you were, and will remain, a giant in my own life. You made the mundane mythic, and that takes true genius. You were a god among men.
01: JAWS FFFUUUU: I was never a big fan of the FFFUUUU internet memethat began, as these things usually do, over at 4Chan. It's not the meme itself that I don't like, but rather its execution by most internet morans. But I do like this particular piece, which captures the essence of FFFUUUU so succintly, so brilliantly...Yeah, yeah, this is probably old and you've probably seen it already, but...
02: This Perpetual Teen strip I did a while ago wherein Rageman auditions for vocalist (naturally) of Kieth's band, Peppermint Dildo. And then Jack Cactus makes the scene. Dinger Jockey! Classic.
04: Gus Van Sant: Gerry [2002]: I watched Gus Van Sant's Death Trilogy completely out of order. Gerry was the first made, so naturally I watched it last. I'm not sure if it matters what order in which Van Sant's three films should be watched, as they're all different kinds of the same thing, death. Elephant concerns murder. Last Days is about suicide. Gerry explores what I'm calling "organic death" - literally a body's organs shutting down (nevermind the ending, because Gerry was dead long before he died). I suppose you could call it a "natural death" because nature is the cause of death in this film. My point is, there may be a million ways to die, but I'm of the belief that these three kinds (organic, murder, suicide) are the only three, into which those million ways can be categorized. If I believed in God, I suppose his hand would be the fourth, and Van Sant would have to make one of those four-part trilogies.
Like the other two death films, Gerry tells it's story mostly through visuals, and here there are long stretches of relative silence, the sounds of the desert, with short bursts of dialogue between the two Gerrys (Matt Damon and Casey Affleck), who get seriously lost while hiking in the desert. But mostly this film is about the beauty and grandeur of nature, and the scenes here are awash in pastel skies stretched over a rugged and jagged terrain, equal parts adventure and danger. As the film progresses, the situation becomes much more serious for the two Gerrys, much more bleak, and here, in the third day of their undoing, the last reel, we see them slowly and painfully shuffling across white salt flats like they might be walking on the moon, or maybe heaven. Despite the pace of the film, I found myself riveted. Like Elephant and Last Days (and life itself)we know the inevitable end of Gerry, and that pulled me along quite effectively. Van Sant once again handles the subject of death with a sort of grace and an even hand, without really passing judgement on characters in any of these films. Death happens. And once again, his secret weapon in Gerry is certainly cinematographer Harris Savides, who's shots linger and shimmer like dreams. I like.
05: Bill Griffith: Zippy: "Four Frame Game" [2000]: Comic stripping and death come together, and Mr. Toad explains the meaning of bowling. If I haven't mentioned this before, Zippy is my favorite comic strip of all time. Hmm...One of these days, maybe I should rank 'em...
06: Kingsford Charcoal Fascination: I've been seeing this commercial around the television lately. That song is Rob Crow's (Pinback) interpretation of "(Keep Feeling) Fascination" by The Human League. At first I wasn't sure how I felt about this, but then I figured "fuck it" - I thought the '80's were a great decade, "Fascination" included.
Not only have I never known a woman named Sadie, I have never been asked to attend a Sadie Hawkin's dance by any woman named Sadie or not...That's probably because we didn't do Sadie Hawkin's dances in our town. I was asked to Senior Prom by a girl named Cindy, but that's a different story for later, if ever...
Did you know the origins of Sadie Hawkin's Day and Sadie Hawkin's dances can be traced to this Lil Abner comic strip from November 13, 1937?
01: LOST: "The End" [S6EP17]: Pop culture is mostly irrelevant. Television is a mere distraction. LOST was/is a red herring in this thing we call life. Indeed, when all is said and done, Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse, the producers of LOST, gave us a series finale that ought to be a hard slap in the face to all the hardcore fanboys who were demanding, are still demanding, answers to so many of the the mysteries of the island, the characters, the show itself. Cuse and Lindelhof were all but literally telling those fanboys that all those mysteries, those puzzles, were red herrings when it came to "the meaning of LOST". There would be no reason for all that Hanso Foundation stuff. Walt's superpowers will have to remain unexplored and unexplained. The numbers were apparently random and held no great powers. So much time wasted on Eko. The books Sawyer read had no deep meaning, really...Or did they? Widmore's motives would remain unknown. Etc. Etc. Etc. In the end, LOST was steeped in death, or rather, the intermediate state between life and death, called "bardo" in Buddhism. It is here, in the "sideways universe" of season six, that Jack Shephard's soul must connect with the souls of all those from Oceanic flight 815 so that they can move on. In season one, Jack Shephard gave us the first big catchphrase of the show, which ultimately came to define the entire series. Simply put, "live together or die alone", and here at the end of the show, they needed to live together through the plane crash and all the weirdness of The Island, so that they could forge strong enough bonds to find each other after death, in Jack's bardo. And here we are, fanboys obsessed with the trivial minutae of LOST, and all six seasons of that stuff, the meaning of all that stuff, is irrelevant, and some of it makes sense, and plenty of it doesn't, and some of the questions got answered, but others never will, but none of that matters. What matters is that we watched the show, shared in that experience, and then we got together around the watercooler, or in discussion boards on the internet, to talk about all those red herrings, those distractions. So many puzzles, so many theories, so much discussion. And now even more discussion about this series finale. Love it or hate it, Cuse and Lindelof brought us all back together again, their show a spark to connect us in this waking dream we call life.
02: Commodore Pumpkin: You might suspect some photoshopping going on here, but I'm not so sure this picture isn't real.
03: SNL Digital Short: "Great Day" [NBC]: In general, I really like the Digital Shorts put together by Andy Samberg, Akiva Schaffer, and Jorma Taccone(The Lonely Island) for Saturday Night Live, and this one, from last week's season finale, is a trim and fantastic thrillride from start to finish. Just remember kids, drugs are fun until they're not.
04: Royal Crown Cola: I'm not much of a soda drinker. Aside from the can of Mountain Dew I pound down first thing every morning at work, I just don't drink all that much of the stuff these days. Having said that, I always have some Royal Crown Cola in the fridge. Compared to the big two (Coca-Cola and Pepsi Cola)RC isn't as sweet as Pepsi, and doesn't go flat as quick as Pepsi (seriously, Pepsi is shit), and RC is slightly sweeter than Coke, holds its carbonation almost as long, and in general, I find Royal Crown to be a creamier and tastier cola than the other two. Also, there is the Pair Of Kings cocktail to consider. I typically like my whiskey served neat, but if I'm going to drink a whiskey and coke, it seems only right that it be made with Crown Royal and Royal Crown. The Pair Of Kings! Thank goodness my boss gives me a bottle of Crown Royal every Christmas... 05: Wise Beard Man: If I'm not mistaken, beards in all their glorious variations, were the status quo in civilized (to say nothing of uncivilized) American society right up to World War I. It would seem head lice became a serious problem for our military men in the trenches of Europe, and shaving off all the hair on one's head was the first step in getting rid of the little buggers. And because society held soldiers and soldiering in much higher regard back then than we do now, soon it became fashionable for civilian men to go clean shaven. And here we are. Aside from some short-lived fads (moustaches in the '70's, goattees in the '90's) the clean-shaven look has remained the status quo, especially in the business world, since the 1920's. Take it from me, a dude who's worn a goattee every single day since the autumn of 1986, there are alot of uptight dicks in the corporate world who might appreciate an expensive blue suit, but will not take you seriously if you've got any sort of facial hair. You might be the smartest person in the room, but to these people, you'll always be a neanderthal. BTW - this post obviously doesn't have anything to do with Mark Bunker and Xenu TV, Scientology or 4Chan...Once in awhile I just gotta represent. I like beards.
06: FUCKING METAL: Is it possible that the infamous "duck face" craze popularized by plasticized celebutards and "real housewives" got its start in Fucking Metal?
01: Owls. As much as I fear and loathe squirrels, I trust and adore owls. Owls let you know when bad shit is afoot in yr back yard in the middle of the night. Owls also hunt and eat varmints like mice and voles. Some of the bigger owls eat squirrels. I love those owls the most. Now that spring is here, I've been sleeping at night with the windows open, and it would seem there is an owl living in one of the back yards on my block. I like this.
02: Scorpions: "Robot Man" [mp3] There's a theory floating around out there called "option paralysis", the idea that as we are given more and more choices, the harder and harder it becomes for us to make a choice, and that when a person is ultimately faced with unlimited choices, s/he is unable to make a choice at all. Now, I have a very large music collection on my hard drives, and with every passing month or year, with every new album folder of mp3s ripped or downloaded, it becomes harder and harder for me to choose what to listen to. Sure, new releases and acquisitions get a fair hearing or three, but in general, I have a hard time deciding what to listen to on any given day, and so often I just hit RANDOM on my MediaMonkey Player, and resign myself to the software's choices, rather than deal with my own brand of option paralysis. Anyways, last Wednesday the Scorpions' In Trance crossed my path, the first time I've heard the album in years. As much as the Scorpions began to disappoint me in the 1980's, their early years, those first five or six albums fucking ruled, and this one might be the best of the bunch.
03: My Alfredo Sauce Recipe: In a large saucepan over medium-high heat, add 1/3 cup BUTTER, 5 cloves MINCED GARLIC, 5 MINCED SCALLIONS, 1/4 cup FLOUR, 1/3 cup MUSHROOMS. Sautee until scallions are translucent and soft and any flour lumps are melted away, adding 1/4 cup wine (optional) in the last minute or so. Then slowly whisk in 2 cups HEAVY CREAM and 1 cup WHOLE MILK, 1/2 tsp NUTMEG, 1/2 tsp BLACK PEPPER. Continue stirring until everything is warm and smooth, then begin stirring in 3/4 cup grated PARMESAN CHEESE, and 1/4 cup RAY ROMANO CHEESE. Keep stirring until it's 100% hot and luscious. Serve with FETTUCINI, or my preferred SPAGHETTI noodles. I also like using this sauce with pan-seared SCALLOPS, and lately I've been throwing the dish (pasta, sauce, scallops) under the broiler in the oven at the end to make it absolutely golden.
04: Modern Family: In it's first season, this ABC comedy has been hitting on all cylinders from the very start. It has a wonderful cast of great characters, but my favorite has to be Cam (played by Eric Stonestreet), the flamboyant half of the show's gay couple. In this clip, he's trying out for the rock band led by his partner's niece's boyfriend, and it illustrates some of the great, understated comedy that runs throughout the show. 05: This. Sometimes, when I'm trying to work on Kieth The Perpetual Teen™ and I get stuck, I like to take other people's comic strips and write my own dialogue or captions, like I did with this Far Side™ cartoon. It's juvenile, yes, but I think it works.
06: This Jim Jarmusch quote [click to enlarge]: I've long been in agreement with Shakespeare that there is "nothing new under the sun", a phrase he took directly from Ecclesiastes in the Bible. I'm also reminded of Pablo Picasso, who once said "good artists copy, great artists steal".
01: [n] A rounded protuberance, as on a humpbacked human; "It may seem romantic, him being from Paris, but believe me, dude - that hump wasn't getting the guy any play with the mademoiselles."
02: [n] A fleshy protuberance on the back of an animal; "Look! A Bichon Frise with an enormous hump!"
03: [n] A large hill or mountain (the Himilayan Hump); "The pay is good, I'll give you that, but I'm just sooooo fucking tired of humping lumber over the Himilayan Hump."
04: [v] To carry a heavy load; "...Sooooo tired of humping lumber, man..."
05: [n] British: A fit of depression or sulking; "I do say, ol' chap - I've been in a bit of a hump lately, what with me getting my bollocks bitten off by that Bichon Frise on the very same day the missus left me for the milkman."
06: [n] A difficult, trying, or critical phase or obstacle; "It's gonna be a fucking long, hard hump these next five weeks if we're gonna hit our 4th quarter projections."
07: [v] To have sexual intercourse; "I'm telling you, man - Gary humped his landlady to make rent, and that old bag looks like a Bichon Frise!"
Wherein TAPE JAZZ MASSACRE mix dialogue from the film Das Bootwith all sorts of dark ambient music to create a dense, watery longform mix of nearly epic proportions. Available until March 1st...
Etymology: earlier iname, from Portuguese inhame & Spanish ñame, of African origin; akin to Fulani nyami to eat
Date: 1657
01: the edible starchy tuberous root of various plants (genus Dioscorea of the family Dioscoreaceae) used as a staple food in tropical areas; "I'm gonna eat so much stuffing and yams, I'm not gonna poop for a week."
02: a moist, usually orange-fleshed, sweet potato; "I'm not shitting you, the guy's head was so fucking misshaped, and his hair was so fucking orange, that we called him 'The Yam' or just 'Yam', and believe me, he hated it. Even his girlfriend called him 'Yam', or her 'sweet potato'! Fucking priceless."
Etymology: Hindi pandit, from Sanskrit pandita learned
Date: 1672
01: a learned man; "I've got a BA in Communications - that makes me a pundit."
02: a person who gives opinions in an authorative manner, usually via the mass media; "Christ, these cable news networks will let any dope with big teeth and a Communications degree play pundit on their shows."
01: existing or made by mutual consent without an act of writing; "There may not have been a written contract between Roman Polanski and Samantha Gailey, but there was nothing consensual about their sexual encounter of March 10th, 1977."
02: involving or based on mutual consent; "There is absolutely nothing consensual about drugging and sodomizing a thirteen year old girl who repeated says 'no'."
01: foolish, silly; "Ach, you and your fond dreams of wealth and fame."
02: prizing highly, or having an affection (used with of); "Anyone who knows me, knows I'm quite fond of butterscotch, Winona Ryder, and thoughts of Winona Ryder covered in butterscotch."
03: foolishly tender, indulgent; "Fond mothers make for spoiled kids."
04: cherished with great affection; "My fondest memory may be building a go-kart with my grandpa one weekend when I was nine."
01: a sudden attack of nausea, illness, or faintness; "The smell coming from the last stall in the men's room on the second floor gave me qualm."
02: a sudden and overwhelming feeling of disturbing emotions such as fear or doubt; "The smell coming from the last stall in the men's room on the second floor filled me with the kind of qualm that haunts a man the rest of his days." 03: a feeling of uneasiness about a point of conscience or propriety; "I have serious qualms about your sudden interest in my masturbating habits."
Function: adjective, noun Etymology: Latin epicus, from Greek epikos, from epos word, speech, poem
Date: 1589, 1706
01: [adj, 1589] of, relating to, or having the characteristics of an epic; "Connie was holding court in the kitchen, talking some nonsense about William Carlos Williams' Paterson being a modern epic poem, and I mistakenly snickered loud enough for her to hear me, so naturally she asked why I was snickering, and all I could think to say was 'Yeah, Paterson might be Williams' epic, but you can't seriously believe it's an actual Epic Poem - it was originally published as five separate books, for chrissakes, and ultimately attempts to make grand statements by focusing on small moments and common people in the city of Paterson, New Jersey, of all places, instead of telling big stories of heroic men spanning decades and sweeping across whole continents," to which she kicked me in the balls and stormed off into the living room, most likely to try hate-fucking Tom The Tool."
02: [adj] extending beyond the usual or ordinary especially in size or scope; "The girth of his potato finger was truly epic."
03: [noun, 1706] a long narrative poem in elevated style recounting the deeds of a legendary or historical hero; "The way he was talking about his lunch with the CTO, you'd think he was retelling an epic."
04: [noun] a work of art that resembles or suggests an epic; "Now, The Changing Light At Sandover by James Merrill is truly a modern epic poem." Hotcha! Hank
Etymology: Australian slang, short for earlier plink-plonk, perhaps modification of French vin blanc white wine; later adapted by U.S. servicemen during WWII
Date: 1930's
01: a cheap grade of wine (or sometimes hard liquor) often made with atypical ingredients, such as wildflowers, rhubarb, prunes, or black currants; "That fucking plonk made me plotz in my Sansabelts and puke all over the cat."
This month's podcast is a mostly ambient affair. Of course, you might not consider the continual roar of a lawnmower to be ambient, but if you do, well, there's a solid hour of it here, so have at it...
Otherwise, I'd say check it out with headphones. Not those fucking earbuds, but actual headphones. Cans. Dig?
Master orator, A-1 flirt, table tennis champion, world class lover, known slacker, sinistral minstrel, funky drum machiner, actual guitar hero, hungry freak, radio disc jockey extraordinaire, Pope of Discordia, advanced sloganeer, licensed coffee drinker, authorized cat fancier, snow globe juggler, ice skating judge, bonsai superstar, published poet with an unpublished number, understander of Jazz, leader of men, follower of my mom, Oracle database user, part-time billboard liberator, full-time Grand Marquis handler, accomplished pipe smoker, dental floss tycoon, fully-certified celebrity impersonator, dues-paying snake-handler, hyphen-minister, soft-spoken carrier of big sticks, amateur sleuth, semi-professional haberdasher, professional lifestyle consultant, chronic inhaler, retired bartender, grower of beards, psychic to the stars, Mint Spy agent, Friend Of Flat Atom, action figure model, stunt double, former paperboy, previous drunk, perpetual teen, and Nobel Prize winner in Theoretical Etymology. I'm also mighty handy with very large axes, extremely small firearms, celery salt, and Derrida texts. Possibly fake references available upon request.
The Simulated Jerry Martin Situation: Threshold 3000: "Infrastructure" [mp3]
