I Assure You We're Open

Michael Phelps, Marijuana, and Corporate Hypocrisy

2009-02-12T14:15:00.002-05:00

Ever since the now infamous photo of Michael Phelps with his lips sealed over a bong was published by London’s News of the World, the media’s demonizing coverage of Phelps has been disgraceful. Based largely on the public outcry crafted by America’s supposedly liberal media, Phelps has had his image and income permanently damaged by the seemingly harmless incident. Kellogg’s has stripped Phelps of his sponsorship. USA Swimming suspended him from competition for three months. These responses to the photo do nothing but further illustrate the ignorance, over-reaction, and hypocrisy that have plagued America’s view on marijuana for far too long.

Immediately after the media’s unnecessary eruption in response to the photo, Phelps held a press conference announcing his behavior was “regrettable” and “demonstrated bad judgment”. But how regrettable is an action that puts you in the company of over 100 million Americans, including the President of the United States? How bad is your judgment when you choose to use a recreational drug that is impossible to overdose on and is less addictive than cigarettes or alcohol? Michael Phelps was given an opportunity to use his respectable image and athletic accomplishments to spark public debate on these issues; instead he felt obligated to perpetuate the negative connotation that has unfairly developed around marijuana use in America.

As Bruce Mirken, Marijuana Policy Project spokesperson, recently told CNN, “I think it is sad that this incredibly accomplished young man feels like he is in a position of having to apologize and act like he did something terrible for relaxing with something that is safer than beer.”

In 2004, at the age of 19, Phelps was arrested in Maryland for DUI. This was a truly regrettable mistake in which Phelps endangered not only himself but others as well. The media response to the arrest was equally critical of the swimmer’s inexcusable behavior, but Phelps lost no sponsorships as a result of his actions. In fact, when it was apparent Phelps was going to have yet another dominating performance in the 2008 Beijing Olympics, many high-profile corporations ignored Phelps’ arrest record and offered him millions in new endorsement deals. The argument is not that Phelps did not deserve a second chance, the point is there is an obvious double-standard now developing as the media and sponsors condemn his marijuana use with more passion and vigor than they did following a much more serious incident of criminal behavior.

It is time that America has an open and honest public discussion on marijuana policy, for it is an issue that is only increasing on the political radar. Since 1996, 13 states have legalized medicinal marijuana use while others have decriminalized the drug despite its illegality under federal law. In fact, according to a 2005 Gallup poll, 36% of Americans believe marijuana should be legalized completely—a three-fold increase since 1969. Whether these progressive policies and changing opinions are the best options for America is debatable, but the fact that they can no longer be ignored is not.

While Michael Phelps apologizes for celebrating eight Olympic gold medals with a hit of pot; while the media shamefully avoids a thorough dissection of marijuana in America; while the US government arrests hundreds of thousands of its citizens every year for an act its leader has openly admitted he enjoyed--Let the rest of us be objective, honest, and rational in our thinking.

Palin Pulls the Plug on a McCain Presidency

2008-10-27T17:12:00.003-04:00

After an election season that has dragged on longer than an Oliver Stone film, a couple realizations have finally emerged. 1) John McCain is not going to be the next president of the United States and 2) Sarah Palin is the culprit of his downfall.

Running a campaign that has sadly fallen further and further into desperation and fear tactics, John McCain has abandoned his once free-thinking, maverick, respected reputation in pursuit of a persona more akin to the same Republican base that he once alienated himself from. With an incumbent Republican president and the lowest approval ratings of all time, such a campaign decision was bound for failure. The subsequent decision to pick Sarah Palin as his running mate was a desperate attempt to get the best of both worlds—affirm the support of the party base while optimistically appealing to feminists, independents, and big-game-hunters of all ages—but the predictied results are devastating.

I try to keep a critical, yet fair view of politicians, and in Palin’s case, it is critical and fair to say she is not qualified to be the President of the United States. Talk all you want about executive experience, but when it comes down to it, Sarah Palin is scary. You can bash Katie Couric’s “truth-seeking” tactics all you want, but, when the McCain campaign finally stopped hiding the hockey mom, even Joe the Plumber must've doubted her. It wasn’t her lack of knowledge that made me wonder what the hell John McCain was thinking, it was her inability to hide it. Palin has come across in every unscripted public appearance unprepared to a point where you actually feel sorry for her, until you remember she has somehow managed to run for the second highest office in our country. Americans have already sacrificed intelligence for who they would rather have a beer with ,twice, and have finally (pray God) learned their lesson.

Perhaps the most embarrassing and insulting characteristic of Palin is her “folksiness”. To have an accent is one thing, but to butcher the English language in hopes of appealing to those who think it is genuine to butcher the English language frankly pisses me off. Palin lectures at her rallies as though she is introducing herself to a kindergarten class. “Now folks, there’s a couple things I wanna tell ya that I sure won’t be doin’. I won’t be pallin’ around with no terrorists and I won’t be talkin’ to no evil dictators’.” John McCain’s advantage in the Republican primaries was his ability to stand-out as an intelligent, non-patronizing voice in a field full of condescending bastards. This advantage has been crushed by Sarah Palin’s elementary tactics.

Both campaigns are guilty of going negative. In fact, both campaigns have run some of the most blatantly misleading ads of all-time. The difference between the two is their dependence on these tactics. Over 2/3 of Americans don’t want to see or hear about negative campaigning, and Obama seems to be the only one who has finally gotten the message (though not before destroying a large chunk of his ethics). When the financial crisis put the economy on the minds of every American, Obama was describing his plans for the future. Palin was talking about what William Ayers did when Barack Obama was 8 years-old. While Biden was discussing his involvement in the Congressional rescue plan, Palin was busy alienating half of American for the GOP ticket by calling small town America the “pro-America areas” of the country. The triviality of her most passionate talking points has placed her shallowness on the forefront of American minds, instead of John McCain’s experience. A distraction that is going to cost John McCain the election.

In trying to score a home run, John McCain has struck-out. Beauty can get you far in life--as Palin has proven—but its going to take more than Tiny Fey-looks and a $150,000 wardrobe to convince the American people you are ready to lead what still remains the most influential nation in the world. When it is all said and done, I think John McCain will realize (if he hasn’t already) the truth in the statement, “play to your strengths”. Experience. Authenticity. Compromise. These are the traits that could have won McCain the election…and Sarah Palin’s incompetency in all these areas is what will lose it.

The Pickens Plan (for Profit)

2008-09-02T22:59:00.007-04:00

If you have watched any American television in the past month there is a good chance you have witnessed a commercial or two featuring a smiling old oil man talking over a backdrop draped in eco-friendly windmills; I give you T. Boone Pickens and his creatively-titled solution to the energy crisis in America, The Pickens Plan. With his authentic southern draw and down-home charm, T. Boone Pickens reminds one more of our current president (he donated millions to both Bush and the Swift-boat attacks on John Kerry) than he does of an alternative-energy advocate trying to cross partisan-lines and solve perhaps America’s most prominent problem. This impression may unfortunately hold a bit more legitimacy than one may hope, especially after conducting a bit of research into the life and motives of Pickens himself.

The Pickens Plan is a mass public relations campaign financed by who other than Mr. Picken’s himself, an effort he has put $58 million of his personal fortune into (Pickens earned $2.7 billion in 2007 alone). With a website that could have been designed by Al Gore himself and ads filled with liberal talking-points, it is an obvious attempt to blur the line between parties and make a desperate appeal for nationwide consent. In his plan, Pickens outlines what exactly has caused the energy crisis in America, and what exactly he plans to do about it.

In 1970, America imported 24% of its oil; In 2008, America imports 70% of its oil. This dependence on foreign oil is annually costing America upwards of $700 billion, while doing nothing to improve its struggling economy. Furthermore, America uses approximately 25% of the world’s oil, while constituting less than 5% of its population. Based on these eye-opening statistics, it is obvious that something transformative and drastic must occur. Who better to tell us than one of the richest oil men in the world.

Picken’s plan focuses on two changes in American energy infrastructure. Firstly, he proposes a dramatic increase in the use of wind energy for electricity production, claiming, with the help of colorful graphs, that America is the Saudi Arabia of wind power. Optimistically, Pickens claims that a mass investment in wind power would create enough energy to satisfy 20% of America’s energy needs. With this new-found electricity in production, the second key component of Pickens Plan is to use our natural gas reserves for transportation purposes (it is a clean burning, cheap fuel) rather than additional electricity. This will obviously get America off gas and spark a new wave of natural gas vehicles and fuel stations. If all goes according to plans (The Pickens Plan that is), America would save $300 billion annually.

The plan has potential. Both John McCain and Barack Obama have met with Mr. Pickens in the past couple months and rumors of a Secretary of Energy reserved for T Boone have been circulating now for some time, but I’m not convinced. If the Bush years have taught me anything about Washington, it is to not trust those who hold personal ties with big business and have a personal financial stake in the policies of the government. I have learned that despite populist rhetoric and what appear to be genuine intentions, businessmen in the political realm never seem to get away from that not-so-invisible hand of self-interest. T. Boone Pickens and his nation-saving plan is no different.

A closer look at Pickens himself reveals the true motivation behind his now famous plan. In regards to wind energy, Pickens owns Mesa Power. Mesa Power is the largest wind energy company in the world and has already built the most expensive wind farm in the US, with existing plans to purchase a substantial amount of wind turbines. Could this be the reason Pickens Plan fails to focus on other established alternative energy sources, say solar? Pickens also owns a company that conveniently changed its name in 2004 from ENRG to Clean Energy, specializing in natural gas fueling stations. Coincidence? Perhaps that’s the reason hybrid cars aren’t even mentioned in Pickens Plan.

While it is obvious that America is suffering from an energy crisis, it is important for Americans to maintain a critical eye and not merely accept whatever potential solution they are presented with. It is equally important to take a closer look at who is presenting the potential solution, and the possible ulterior motives such a person may possess. It is not obvious to me that T. Boone Pickens’ plan for personal profit is necessarily a bad decision for America. It is obvious to me that it is a decision organized around a personal agenda. Such an argument must always be looked at skeptically when attempting to pursue what is best for the public and nation as a whole.

Wilco wows Wilmington

2008-08-27T23:52:00.016-04:00

Last review of the summer, posting it here so I can add media, but as always, the real version is over here.

***All photos courtesy of Paste Music Blog***

Wilco
Wilmington, DE
Aug. 10, 2008

“We’ve now played 48 out of 50 states,” Jeff Tweedy proudly announced to the sold-out crowd at Wilmington’s Grand Opera House. “We’ll hit 49 next week,” he continued, alluding to Wilco’s headlining slot at the Jackson Hole Festival in Wyoming. Earlier this year, Tweedy and Co. announced plans to perform in cities and states otherwise ignored over the course of Wilco’s 14-year career. In addition to wowing newer fans at mega-fests such as Lollapalooza or Baltimore’s Virgin Mobile Festival, Wilco’s summer tour took it to the geographic edges of its U.S. fanbase, with dates in Montana, New Mexico, Alaska and North Dakota. The band’s performance in the historic Delaware auditorium spanned their celebrated nine-album catalog (save a curious absence of anything from 1999’s Summerteeth).

A Dylan-channeling version of “Sunken Treasure” kicked off the night while Tweedy’s blows on a neck-strap harmonica drew wild hoots and whistles from the mostly older audience. The gradual pace continued through the noise-infused interludes of “Wishful Thinking” and “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart,” until Glen Kotche’s unyielding cymbal attack and full-body flailing outshone the iconic lead singer. Kotche’s drumming remained tight throughout the evening, as did the work of bassist John Stirratt, the band’s only original member besides Tweedy. The Wilco line-up has shuffled through 12 members since its 1994 inception following the break-up of Tweedy's alt-country trailblazers Uncle Tupelo. The recent addition of multi-instrumentalist Pat Sansone and acclaimed jazz guitarist Nels Cline continues to flesh out the band’s earlier work into lush, layered compositions, particularly in a live setting.

Additional support for this performance came by way of the Total Pros, a three-piece horn section that sat in for six songs, including “I’m The Man Who Loves You”, “The Late Greats” and "Outtasite (Outta Mind)." The extra instrumentation, while fluid and precise, often led to an oversaturated sound and confirmed what many critics have argued since the lukewarm reception of 2007’s Sky Blue Sky: late-period Wilco is upon us. Many moments of the band’s 24-song set felt politely jammy, and Tweedy stumbled through select rarities such as “Casino Queen,” “Blood Of The Lamb” (a Woody Guthrie cover from the band’s collaboration with Billy Bragg), and “Hotel Arizona,” which needed three re-starts before getting off the ground.

Wilco - "Hotel Arizona" - Live @ The Grand Opera House, Wilmington, DE - 8/10/08

Aside from these slips, the neo-jazz breakdown of “You Are My Face” and vapor-trail ending of “Handshake Drugs” both allowed Cline to stretch his wings. Cline’s handiwork routinely transcended his Fender Jazzmaster to include intricate toggling on a side table of effects and soulful slide-guitar fingering to dress up such songs as “Poor Places” and “Walken,” the latter an otherwise forgettable cut from Sky Blue Sky.

Wilco - "Poor Places" - Live @ The Grand Opera House, Wilmington, DE - 8/10/08

It was clear that an unspoken dialogue was at the heart of Wilco’s first interaction with their First State fans. The bouncy, transcendental anthem “Hummingbird” was a full-fledged sing-along, and “Theologians” felt especially drenched in enigmatic mysticism when cryptic lyrics echoed from fans around the horseshoe theatre. “You can rely on me, honey,” Tweedy assured the swaying crowd during the twangy Southwestern waltz of “Jesus, Etc.” Turning his microphone toward the audience, they echoed back, “Our love is all we have. Our love is all of God’s money. Everyone is a burning sun.”

Wilco - "Radio Cure" - Live @ The Grand Opera House, Wilmington, DE - 8/10/08

A Thunderous Blunder: A Review of Tropic Thunder

2008-08-21T02:04:00.003-04:00

Ben Stiller’s new flick, Tropic Thunder, has topped the box office, sparked considerable controversy, and features Robert Downey Jr. playing Russell Crowe playing Bernie Mac; enough to convince me it was worth checking out. It has been awhile since I’ve encountered such a contradictory film--horrid reviews yet an 8.0 on IMDb?—making me wonder which constituency was so off the mark. After viewing the film I was surprised to find that the answer was neither, and concluded that Stiller had succeeded in creating a horribly hilarious film.

What the film makes up for with a top-notch cast and memorable one-liners, it completely lacks in plot, respectability, and timely satire. What could have been an opportunity to make a masterful satire of an entire genre (a la Mel Brooks), the movie instead relies on crude humor and very memorable characters to make its comedic impact. With a few exceptions, Tropic Thunder fails to give the audience the chance to think, “this is a spoof”, or “they are making fun of _________ war movie”. Clichés aren’t absent from the film but their prevalence would have allowed Tropic Thunder to be put in the same class of satire as say Blazing Saddles or Team America, instead opting out to be placed in the shadow of Apatow-inspired blatantly belligerent comedy.

As previously stated in my last post, I am no moralist. I often take an unhealthy loathing to those too uptight to take a joke and attempt to place what is meant to be humorous in the comedic context that is appropriate. With that said, I must honestly say even I found parts of the film tasteless and mildly offensive. It is one thing to address the somewhat comedic fact that actors who choose to play mentally-challenged characters win Oscars, it is another to make Stiller’s retarded character an otherwise pointless centerpiece in the film. Downey Jr.’s rant about the professional downside of “going retard” had its place in a film making a consistent social commentary on the culture of Hollywood, but the repetitive stuttering and unnecessary return to Simple Jack did not have a relevant place in the film (unless it was Stiller’s goal to piss off advocacy groups of the subject).

While I found the retard controversy quasi-legitimate, those who opposed Robert Downey Jr. playing a black man need to shut the hell up. His performance as Kirk Lazarus was brilliant, and made fun of Russell Crowe as much as it did any black man. Not only was his character believable, his multiple accents spot on, and his reactions hilarious, but his ability to change his tone and personality with the wide array of other characters he had to deal with was remarkable. In a film that was otherwise full of forced jokes and largely missed the mark, Downey Jr.’s performance was both memorable and Oscar-worthy.

While Downey stole the show, the extensive and celebrity-filled cast is what ultimately made Tropic Thunder tolerable and perhaps even enjoyable. Every character was extremely well developed, from a fraud author attempting to profit off the Vietnam War to a rookie director trying to control a star-studded cast in his first big break. The parts were distinct and all allowed to for comedic touches to be added by the all-star cast. In a film riddled with cameos, Tom Cruise’s performance was the cameo to end all cameos. His heart-warming portrayal of a cross between Harvey Weinstein and Freakshow from Harold and Kumar with a fetish for rap and narcissism had me rolling in laughter. Unfortunately his screen-time was very limited.

All in all, Tropic Thunder wasn’t entirely a Tropic Blunder, but it sure as hell wasn’t a Tropic Wonder either. The movie has enough memorable moments and surely enough memorable characters to be worthy of a viewing, but falls a few RPG’s short of being a successful military satire. 6/10 Retards.

Bon Iver may give you a boner

2008-08-20T23:59:00.012-04:00

Long, long, long over-due. The real version can be found here.

Bon Iver
Philadelphia, PA
July 31, 2008

For all that’s been written about Justin Vernon and his 2008 magnum opus For Emma, Forever Ago, there remains a miserable feeling of not being able to articulate the raw emotions that these nine folk songs have the power to evoke. Vernon, who has adopted the stage name Bon Iver (a loose spelling of the French phrase “Good Winter”), is as enigmatic as his music. As Bon Iver—isolated from life yet grappling with it—Vernon adopts a chilling falsetto that is more sentimentally than sonically pleasing. When addressing his audience or speaking offstage, however, Vernon’s persona is naturally unkempt, with a crackling blue-collar voice and a Midwestern charm that exudes approachability. Both sides took hold of a sweat-soaked crowd in the swampy basement of Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church for a sold-out performance on the final night of July.

Much of Vernon’s 2008 success as Bon Iver is attributable to the mythology surrounding For Emma’s circumstantial creation. Following the disintegration of a relationship and the break-up of his former band, DeYarmond Edison, Vernon retreated to the woods of Northern Wisconsin for three winter months. Hibernating in his father’s hunting cabin, Vernon sought refuge but eventually found renassiance and recorded a collection of demos—individual tracks, he insists, that were never meant to be an album. An intensely layered yet minimalist collection, Vernon’s conscious musical choices do not feed his ego but carry a certain purpose toward furthering a given work, be it on the album or on stage.

Such was the case when Vernon and his Bon Iver touring companions (a second guitarist, a drummer and a multi-instrumentalist) walked on stage shirtless, joking that the room was like a cold bath. The performance began with meandering drones soaked in reverb that Vernon nonchalantly introduced as “C.F.,” or “Creature Fear,” the most bipolar track off For Emma. With a gradual slide-guitar arc and jazzy stops, Vernon alternated his customary high-pitched vocal with several lower voices before leading the group into a driving instrumental to conclude the song. The wild applause was answered with the bouncing campfire chords of “Skinny Love,” a ballad many believe to be the epitome of Bon Iver’s bare-all exposition. Vernon’s underused vocal boom was a highlight as each band member accompanied the singer with squinted eyes and scrunched noses to sing the phrase “My, my, my,” turning one man’s break-up song into a nostalgic anthem.

"Skinny Love" Live @ First Unitarian Church 7/31

Vernon dutifully performed eight of the nine tracks on For Emma, save the instrumental “Team.” Although he sounded more comfortable with his live band than vice versa, the four musicians were able to effectively find spaces and directions in which to transport the cryptic self-recordings from the cabin to the stage. The otherwise stolid “Blindsided” was dressed up with some Nels Cline-like noodling, and the band left Vernon to perform an intimate, half-speed version of “Re: Stacks.” The audience contributed to the eerie and repetitive refrain “What might’ve been lost” as “The Wolves (Act I And II)” was deconstructed with distorted guitar shredding and clamoring, nonsensical percussion. The show entered its final stage with the cheerful strumming of “For Emma.” A weighted story hidden beneath elementary chord progressions and a simple medley, the soft wailing slide and chorale singing of “Running home, running home” warranted a collective thirst for more. Vernon, however, made it clear that he had only one song left. Ending the night on his album’s tender opener, “Flume,” was an unconventional choice, but Vernon could do no wrong in the eyes of his sweaty audience. Offering fulfillment in less than 45 minutes is hard to do, but this bare-boned performance from a bare-skinned band did so unequivocally.

"For Emma" Live @ First Unitarian Church 7/31

Olympics, Liars and Affairs, Oh My!

2008-08-13T20:38:00.005-04:00

The past week has been jam-packed with news that has shocked and awed. Here's my take on all the fuss:

The Olympics:

The opening ceremonies scared the living shit out of me in the most impressive way possible. I felt like I was watching a North Korean military march when some 2,000 drummers were simultaneously chanting like Tibetan monks while twirling glow in the dark drumsticks. The show was mind-boggling, but you couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated by the organization and dedication a communist state with over a billion people is capable of.
The athletics so far have been equally entertaining. The China vs. America basketball game (the most watched sporting event in history) was relatively exciting for at least the first half. The constantly mentioned gold medal quest of Phelps has lived up to expectations, especially the relay where the veteran American swam the fastest split in history to out-touch the French by 6 hundredths of a second (after the French told newspapers they would surely "smash" the Americans). The gymnists, both men and women, continue to perform routines that my sense of sight tells me aren't humanly possible. Speaking of, the Chinese womens (girls) team didn't even make an effort to act like they weren't cheating. Apparently the age minimum for the gymnastics competition was 16, and the Chinese team averaged 4'5'' and 70 pounds. That's like my right leg! The elementary schoolgirls they had perform would have made Wee-man look like Butterbean. It was disgraceful.

The President:

Bush has looked like a kid in a candy store through-out the Olympics, and seems much more in his element than say, when running the country. He was raising roofs,slapping asses, and having one hell of a time until he had the displeasure of sitting down with Bob Costas. While the president handled the surprisingly deep and insightful foreign policy questions slung at him by Costas (who apparently mistook the Olympics for Meet the Press) quite well, it wouldn't be Bush if he didn't have one Freudian slip. When ask a minute long question about how much leverage America has over China with both nations facing problems Bush optimistically answered, "First of all Bob, I don't see America as having problems." My jaw dropped at the comment watching it live, and I completely concurred the next night when John Stewart replayed the statement and added, "I think thats our biggest problem."

Georgia vs. Russia:

For those thinking there is no way Russia could ever take over the "ATL", Georgia is in fact also a country. They were also the third largest member of the "Coalition of the willing" in Iraq until they pulled out over 2000 of their troops to protect themselves from the Russians. These Georgians need to get their priorities straight: save your home country that no one knew existed anyway or save America from terrorism? Traitors.

John Edwards:

Oh my, where to begin with this one. I'm not surprised he had an affair. I'm not surprised it was made public. I am appalled that he had the balls to run for president knowing this could surface. Imagine if it was Obama, the entire democratic party would have been destroyed! I'm no moralist and frankly don't give a rat's ass whether a political candidate is sniffing coke off a hooker's stomach if their policies are for the best, but the fact that Edwards was willing to risk not just his own political career but the progressive will of the majority of America is hard to fathom. With all that said, it is truly ironic that this whole ordeal might turn out to be a positive for Obama. If it wasn't for Edwards' affair, do you think any attention would have been placed on the fact that Mr. John McCain also admitted to having an affair when with his first wife? Again, I could care less, but it surely suits Obama that his opponent can now be placed in the same "slimeball" category as immoral beasts like Clinton and Edwards.

Cheers.

Blitzer vs. Romney: Conservative Mormon vs. The Liberal Media

2008-07-21T22:15:00.011-04:00

To all those that actually take the time to read this blog:

1. Thank you.

2. I’m sorry to bore you with another political post (but this one should be good)

Since the dawn of time, politicians have used two key strategies to allow themselves to be elected in America by proving they are dishonest, insincere, and manipulating (in other words, qualified). They are: 1) not directly answering the question asked (a la Dubya press conference) and 2) lying, and repeating the lie enough to make the public take it as truth (I did not have sex with that woman!). Both of these public relation tricks were on display in classic and memorable fashion the other night as I watched CNN. As always, Wolf Blitzer’s seemingly endless coverage of an election still five months away was discussing the platform of Barack Obama, and invited who better than the mighty Mormon Mitt Romney to make a counter point and speak on behalf of John McCain.

Before I go into details, it may be appropriate to make known my opinion of Mr. Romney: he’s a mannequin of a man who’s demeanor is as fake as John Kerry’s is lifeless. He is a talking-point puppet who speaks not from his heart but from the massive archive of anti-liberal statistics he smoothly recites to cover up his lack of personal innovation, all the while smiling with that neo-Reagan charm that makes me want to puke. With his Hollywood looks and golden-grey locks, Mitt Romney’s only real contribution to the political spectrum is to give 60 year old make-up covered rich women someone to fantasize about while their husbands are running into town to get their Viagra prescriptions filled.

On this nationally televised occasion, Romney would once again reinforce these beliefs. The conversation went a little something like this…

* * *

Wolf Blitzer: Thank you for joining us Mr. Romney, we’re glad you could make it! (I hate this man and have no idea why I invited him on my show.)

Mitt Romney: Thanks Wolf, good to be with you. (I hate you, too.)

WB: Lets talk about the economy, American’s want to know if their really is a difference between John McCain and George W. Bush? (This is as pointed a question I could come up with, surely he will answer it.)

MR: The answer yes of course, but of course the bigger difference is between McCain and Obama. In regards to Bush… (cue talking points about pork-barrel spending, off-shore drilling and trade, all policies Bush also supports).

WB: But so does Bush? (Take that Morman!)

MR: But the big difference between John McCain and Barack Obama, is just that, the difference between John McCain and Barack Obama. (You win on the Bush thing you white-haired host devil, now I’m going to talk about what I want to) See Wolf, John McCain want to lower taxes on middle income Americans, and Barack Obama wants to raise taxes! (I hope Wolf doesn’t know I’m talking out of my ass right now)

WB: Well actually Mr. Romney, Obama’s plan says that he’s only going to raise taxes on those Americans making $ 250,000 or more, while middle-class American’s will get tax breaks. (I refuse to let this prick lie to the American public, I don’t care if this gives me a reputation of having a liberal bias)

MR: Well, sweet talk is awful nice, but it doesn’t compare with straight talk. (the truth is awful nice, but it doesn’t compare to my lies!)

WB: (I can’t believe he just had the balls to say that!)

The conversation continued in this manner, Blitzer constantly attempting to sort through the bullshit Romney spewed to uphold his journalistic integrity, while Romney continued to confidently tell outright lies with a smile. Such is the present and future of “political discourse” in America, the greatest democracy on Earth!

If you don't believe me…here is the video compliments of CNN.com:

http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/politics/2008/07/16/tsr.romney.interview.cnn

This has nothing to do with the real Boris Yeltsin

2008-07-18T16:11:00.007-04:00

TONIGHT (7/25) @ World Cafe Live
YRock on XPN Welcomes:

"With their sophomore release, Pershing, SSLYBY works out its adventure streak by way of quirky chord changes amid massive hooks and addictive melodies. The new model is not only an improvement on the original, but seemingly posits itself as the shape of things to come."

For those of you in the Philadelphia area who have already seen, or are waiting till tomorrow to see The Dark Knight (like us), escape this mighty jungle heat with the California-dream-like melodies of Someone Still Loves You, Boris Yeltsin (by way of Springfield, Missouri...for the record). For Fans of Rogue Wave, Nada Surf, or Russian mongols.

Friday, July 18th | Doors 6pm | Show 7:30pm | Downstairs Live

88 Miles Per Hour...

2008-07-16T22:05:00.003-04:00

Here they are, some unofficial highlights from our first year...

(oldest to most recent)

Dead Earth

The White Rapper Show

The Art of Eating

Thoughts Influenced by We Own the Night

Hello FairTax, Goodbye IRS

Confessions of a Fat Bitch

Spring Break, Or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Tourists

WE ARE...Galvanized

First of Nate's Western Journal Entries

Jam on the River (Nate's Take)

Jam on the River (John's Take)

The Politics of Smear
From Jesuit to Jenny Lewis

It's My Party...

2008-07-15T22:20:00.002-04:00

Over the weekend (Arts Fest...lack of sleep...too many visits to Double Penetration Dough) we crossed the one-year threshold of this sad little page. We neglected to acknowledge the big birthday (July 8th) and are now the shitty friend who we will snub on future holidays. But birthdays are rarely all they're cracked up to be...

Coming soon (tomorrow): The only posts we're not ashamed to look back on

The True Patriot: A Review

2008-07-04T21:20:00.004-04:00

While channel-surfing the other day during a commercial break of I Love the New Millenium I found myself stopping at CSPAN. Yes, CSPAN; the government channel dryer than your mouth after trying to eat five saltines without water in a minute (ten bucks you can't do it). What caught my attention was an Asian man who was promoting a small red book called The True Patriot. He was extremely articulate and responded to questions in a confident and clear rhetoric that immediately established himself respectfully in the right in the face of criticism. I was not a surprised at all when I found out the man, Eric Liu, was a former speechwriter for Bill Clinton. I ended up watching the entirety of his hour long session and anxiously ordered his book for half price off Amazon.com.

The book ended up being more of a pamphlet; a 6’’ by 8’’, 130 page manifesto if you will outlining the requirements for a newfound sense of American patriotism based in public morality, sacrifice, and practical purpose. A notion not based around blind-faith and ideology but rather a willingness to use a pragmatic approach to problem solving. The author repeatedly used a quote from Senator Carl Schurz, “Our country—when right to be kept right; when wrong to be put right.” He grounds his version of patriotism in consistently seeking to do what it best for the nation, not an unchanging belief that the nation is best. While I didn’t agree with the obvious partisan tone of the writing (he used the terms Democrat and Progressive interchangeably, two mindsets not synonymous in my opinion), he made pointed political arguments throughout the work that made a lot of sense to me. “The conservative’s blessing is that he is always rooted in the past. The conservative’s curse is that the future is unrelenting.” The True Patriot calls for a patriotism that uses ones love of country and respect for the past to lead us into a progressive and prosperous future. It is a message that I feel many Americans deserve to hear.

An underlying theme throughout the book is the right-wing’s strategic use of the notion of patriotism, and the left-wing’s regressive abandonment of the term. For too long Republicans have waved their flags, worn their pins, and demonized anyone who dares talk critically of the nation. For too long Democrats have allowed the right to steal patriotism, use it against them, and win votes by simply appearing more proud of America then their leftist counterparts. Such tactics have consistently worked, and will inevitably be used again in the upcoming presidential election. The True Patriot aims to motivate Democrats to stop conceding the power of patriotism to the right, and use its fundamental definition of desire to do what is best for America to ring loud and clear in progressive talking points.

Patriotism is not founded in a blind love of country, but rather a love of what this country stands for—freedom—and not unchecked freedom that allows an elite group to prosper while the majority suffers inequality of opportunity. Such is what has been occurring recently in this country, and the authors obviously wanted to make it a point to address the selfishness that has run rampant in the minds of those that have abandoned the common good for pursuit of self-interest. Perhaps the most powerful passage of the book plays on this idea of unchecked freedom:

“True patriots believe that freedom from responsibility is selfishness, freedom from sacrifice is cowardice, freedom from tolerance is prejudice, freedom from stewardship is exploitation, and freedom from compassion is cruelty.”

While The True Patriot is obviously written by a Democrat angry at the current direction his nation is heading, the message and motivation in the book has the ability to cross partisan lines. The writing is clearly articulated with the direction of an established speechwriter and will ring true to any American disappointed in the fake and insincere face patriotism has taken in modern American politics. Through the words of great leaders past, coupled with a progressive vision of the future, The True Patriot succeeds in sparking a much needed debate on the true meaning of patriotism in the spirit of Thomas Paine.

From Jesuit to Jenny Lewis

2008-06-27T18:10:00.005-04:00

This week at work I've been exploring NPR's Live Music Archive and, to put it simply, its the only thing that got me to the weekend. After listening to much-expected solid shows from Wilco, Bon Iver, and Stephen Malkmus, I was blown away at how much I got out of Jonathan Rice.

I had heard of Rice many years ago through a friend. He's actually the older brother of a kid who was on my 8th grade basketball team. Forgive me, Keiran, for not taking you seriously when you said "My older brother writes songs, you know."

Jonathan Rice graduated From Gonzaga College High School, one of the top Jesuit high schools in the nation, and a close brother school to my alma mater, St. Joseph's Prep (our list of noteworthy alumni includes the Phillie Phanatic, among other, non-ATV driving world leaders).

Anyways, his performance from this year's SXSW sounds particularly Neil Young-ish circa On the Beach. How can a stringy Scotsman make such twangy roots-rock drenched in melodies evocative of pie crusts and Texas highways?

Jonathan Rice @ SXSW 2008 from NPR's All Songs Considered

Oh, and he apparently dates her...

The Politics of Smear (Featuring Conservatives Filled With Fear)

2008-06-26T21:55:00.004-04:00

Now that Obama and Hillary have united a once divided Democratic Party (appearing together in Unity, New Hampshire was cheesy I know, but the point remains the same)....now that Barack Obama leads in national polls over John McCain by an average of seven points....now that the future of conservatism in America is looking increasingly grim...now are desperate times for those opposed to the election of Barack Obama in November, and desperate times call for desperate measures.

c/o Zaius Nation

After taking widespread heat for the false Swiftboat Veteran’s for Truth adds that publicly sabotaged Senator John Kerry’s presidential campaign in 2004 (the fact that he looked like Frankenstein didn’t help either), the conservative propag anda machine has resorted to less mainstream means to begin their mis-leading manipulation of the public’s perception of Barack Obama. I speak of the internet. Mass emails. False rumors. Lies derived for the sole purpose of scaring the American people from the one man they need the most.

Just yesterday a classmate, an ex-Marine ,and very intellectual person from past interactions, tapped my shoulder and said, “Hey Nate, did you hear about “the whitey” video! Michelle Obama is on tape saying how pissed she is at the 'whiteys.' I knew she was racist, how can you not be going to a church with that black preacher who hates white America?” I looked back at him surprised, then politely responded, “I doubt such a video exists.” Turns out I was correct, as has been the case on a multiple of claims others believe based on an email their uncle-in-law sent them. No, Obama did not swear on the Koran instead of the Bible. No, Obama is not a Muslim. No, Obama did not attend a radical Islamic madrassa as a child in Indonesia (it was a public school with American-inspired separation of church and state statutes in place). No, Barack Hussein Obama is not a genetic superbeing comprised of duel-DNA of both Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden, but I bet someone out there believes it.

The only thing more surprising than the blatant butchering of the truth present in the smears is the impact they are having on otherwise intelligent Americans, and I’m tired of it. Apparently, so is Barack Obama. He recently responded to a number of these “forwarded falsehoods” by creating a new website that disproves them with clarity and reliable sources. If you are going to spend your time on the internet to find out the truth about the presidential candidates, I recommend you pay a visit to both…

http://my.barackobama.com/page/content/fightthesmearshome/

http://www.factcheck.org

Facebook in reality...

2008-06-25T19:31:00.005-04:00

Ready to cancel your account yet? I'm looking forward to the day when I stop wasting my time. See also:

The Battle For Facebook

Mark Zuckerberg launched an online empire from his dorm room at Harvard. Now four fellow students say he stole their idea. (RS 6/26/08)

Overdue Rev(ues)

2008-06-24T19:50:00.020-04:00

I'm uncomfortable with the fact that summer has become, at just barely age 20, nothing more than another few months of the year in which to do work. Maybe its merely a Northeast mentality - to feel that even in the off-season you should not only be keeping in shape but juicing up for next year. For instance, it's become nearly impossible for a college student to obtain an internship without previously having one on their resume. For the lucky ones who have them, if you're not relentlessly preparing for the possible post-internship career you're wasting the opportunity. It never ends. Work dictates my non-work life.

Don't get me wrong, I like work, but when did summer vacation turn into "summer weekends and one week if you're lucky"?

The reason for the lapse in regular posting is that I've been re-directing my efforts towards more active freelance. I've made a conscientious effort to let this sad little page stand on its own, but here are two recent pieces from publications outside my laptop...

My Morning Jacket

Evil Urges (ATO)

Rating: Meh, like Mexican food in Philly.

On their fifth studio album lead singer/guitarist Jim James has completed rehab for his lifelong addiction to reverberated vocals. But don’t cut that sobriety cake yet—James emerges with a slew of new retrofitted masks in the likes of Dylan, Prince and Brian Wilson. The early gem “Thank You Too!” is followed by copycat fillers, and “Highly Suspicious” is a lame neo-Kraut groove that should’ve never seen the light of day. The album’s title is a likely allegory for MMJ’s unavoidable (de)evolution from alt-country shepherds to messiahs of Americana.

---

But they're still one of the best live bands in the actively touring/not past their prime category, as is evident from Friday night's show at Radio City. Check out the encore, and listen to the guy holding the camera or someone around him sing the guitar line...

#2

M83

Philadelphia, PA
June 6, 2008
(Lifted from MAGNET Magazine)

Twenty-six-year-old Anthony Gonzalez does not remember the Reagan ’80s. Gonzalez, the French electronica connoisseur who performs under the name M83, does, however, subscribe to the sensationalized worlds that exist solely within the two-hour time span of John Hughes’ teenage melodramas of that decade. When pressed as to why his new album, Saturdays = Youth, evokes an era that came and went before he’d reached puberty, Gonzalez has told reporters, “[Being a teenager] was one of the best periods of my life.” Fittingly, M83’s night at Philadelphia’s First Unitarian Church had all the elements of a classic Hughes gusher: celebration, empathy, nostalgia, timidity and a rousing final number to augment Judd Nelson’s declarative closing-frame fist pump.

Known mostly for mood-heavy landscapes painted by synthesizers, M83 was originally a partnership between Gonzalez and Nicolas Fromageau until Fromageau’s departure following 2003’s Dead Cities, Red Seas & Lost Ghosts. After the split, Gonzalez introduced vocals and more readily apparent song structures on 2005’s Before The Dawn Heals Us, a stepping stone for the new Saturdays = Youth. While various forms of shoegaze have always been at the forefront of electro-indie, M83’s take on the yard-sale-organ sound is vastly different from the more recognizable names of this sub-genre (Simian Mobile Disco, Four Tet). As a musician, Gonzalez works stealthily, layering textures and luring listeners into a sonic black hole while many of his contemporaries spend time on punchy beats and elementary fuzz tones. M83's deliberate aversion to danceable rhythms no doubt contributed to the Philadephia performance being booked as a seated show in a church sanctuary.

Fans filing into the 122-year-old building found no respite from the humidity on this early June night. Rising locals A Sunny Day In Glasgow threw the audience a curve when an opening folk/pop medley yielded cat shrieks and dog yelps from lead singer Lauren Daniels. The remainder of their 30-minute set, however, offered little more than faux-Cranberries vocals and poor use of an electric mandolin. More than 500 people were awaiting M83’s set when the chandeliers flickered off and distorted thunderclaps echoed from the empty stage. Though hardly visible in the darkness of the sanctuary, Gonzalez appeared onstage to toggle knobs and press buttons on his elaborate plexiglass computer cube and mounted synthesizer. The sound widened with heavy organ drones and meditative hums as the remaining three members of the M83 touring band took the stage, shaping what would become the opening epic “Waves, Waves, Waves.”

After some early technical difficulties, the band found its rhythm on “Graveyard Girl.” The lead-in drums and pleasantly piercing guitar line may too closely resemble “Just Like Heaven,” but it’s a difficult song to hate. Gonzalez’s floating whisper dominates the album version, but the live performance was highlighted by keyboardist Morgan Kibby, whose alto vocals all but held hands with Gonzalez’s baritone breaths. Kibby proved to be a driving force on Saturdays tracks such as “Skin Of The Night” and “Highway Of Endless Dreams."

As the show progressed, however, the audience creaked restlessly in the wooden pews as the band shuffled through older songs with no discernible beginning or end. The incessant coyote howl and shimmering cymbals of “Moon Child” dragged on five minutes too long, as did the failed automated/live hybrid of “We Own The Sky.” The finest example of M83’s nostalgic new direction, “Kim And Jessie,” translated well into a live setting even though the band didn’t stray an inch from the studio recording. After closing the show on an unexpectedly heavy tone, the band members returned soon after as Gonzalez petitioned, “Please stand up for our last song!” in a French-accented mumble. The swirling blips and syncopated beat of “Coleurs” grew piece by piece into a trance-like, instrumental hymn that ricocheted off the walls of the sanctuary. The final minutes of the show were a stark contrast to what was essentially a night of sitting quietly in church. The crowd bobbed and raved, and the floor shook under moving feet.

---

Now, time to go watch more Weeds

New B. Thicket

2008-06-11T00:10:00.006-04:00

Check it.

Non-Domino's Related Heat Wave

2008-06-09T19:57:00.006-04:00

This heat wave is a killer, but i love it. I'm writing this from my front porch despite the inescapable humidity. And yes, drops of sweat are cliff-diving from my hairline and seeping through my fingertips but it's worth it to be outside after a day in a recirculated air conditioned office. It's especially hard to mindlessly stare at a computer screen or endless stacks of paper after a weekend like the one I just had.

I have Fridays off this summer. Sue me. I made this schedule with both of my jobs so as to encourage myself to take more weekend excursions, or, at the very least, to feel like my summer was truly a vacation from normal life. So far I like to think I've been making the most of it, but this weekend took the cake.

Thursday night after work I raced home from University City only to return not two hours later to see M.I.A. and Holy Fuck at The Armory. Despite Obama-in-State-College-esque lines to get in, the scene itself was a hoot. For the first time in a long time, Philadelphia really felt ahead of (edit: on pace with) the curve. The crowd of 18-30somethings was draped in Dayglo, capris, stick-figure jeans, hip-for-the-sake-of-hip sneaks, and sigh, Kanye shades. All of these isms and offshoots of the iPod generation melted together under the vast yet sweltering roof of the 33rd Street Armory. It was a ticketmaster-controlled/myspace promoted rave. So...uh...about as much of a rave as my Daft Punk Halloween party...

Holy Fuck opened with their pounding hybrid of lo-fi electro and live drum 'n bass. Have you heard their remix of Radiohead's "Nude" yet? They destroyed the competition like that time Homer entered the design your own Power Plant contest, ousting Martin Prince and infuriating the late Frank Grimes...sending him to an early grave. "I'm peeing on the seat, give me a raise!"

M.I.A. had a stellar show despite a mediocre sound over-saturated with rumbling bass. Her show(wo)manship evoked those classic Madonna tours you always see on VH1 countdowns. But this night wasn't about the music so much as it was the spectacle. Check out this Photo Gallery from Dan Murphy, it's so worth it (3rd one down). And here's great video c/o Philebrity:

Friday night I saw M83 in the First Unitarian Sauna. I'm currently reviewing the show for MAGNET Magazine so I'll post or link the finished product in due time. If so inclined, check out MAGNET's Live Reviews page for a piece I did about The Black Keys a few weeks ago.

I spent the latter half of Sunday (after sleeping off and cleaning up a Saturday night backyard BBQ) at the Manayunk bike races. No words and regrettably no pictures from this one. But here's what the front page of the Inquirer had to say:

"Consider the ritual of Bob Denbow and his friends. A lifelong Manayunker, Denbow, 44, began his race-day celebration around 7 a.m., two hours before the starter's pistol.

"First, we go to a barbecue off the Wall, but then by 9, we're here to watch," Denbow said. At 11 a.m., he was clutching a plastic cup of beer, wearing a sombrero and making plans to attend later parties and listen to bands that would set up on side streets.

"Nobody goes to work the next day," Denbow's friend Brook Robinson said. "We've got to recover."

Denbow said the race "is the best thing ever to happen to Manayunk."

Jesus it's hot. I could use a Rocket Pop.

ITS ABOUT TIME!

2008-06-04T16:29:00.004-04:00

Well, after what seemed like an eternity it is finally settled; Barack Obama is the democratic candidate for President of the United States! No more repetitive primary debates highlighting issues unimportant to the election at hand, no more confusing talk of superdelegates, but most of all, no more Hillary Clinton. Unlike what seems like the majority of America, including every Republican in existence, I never had an unfounded biased hate towards Hilldog. I gave her credit where credit was due and balanced her obvious eliteness and unlikeable personality with her dedication to her beliefs and impressive resume of past experience. I never hated her, until now. The fact that Hillary refused to even acknowledge Obama's victory last night was one of the most hard-headed and disrespectful acts I have ever witnessed in the public arena.

Quite the contrary, Obama's victory speech to over ten thousand screaming supporters in St. Paul, Minnesota was the single-most powerful public speech I have ever seen live. It was brilliant: his rhetoric the perfect balance of confidence and humility, his enthusiasm evident while maintaining the professionalism necessary for a commander in chief, his platform and beliefs clearly articulated in the midst of the celebration. With the poise and message of transformation reminiscent of the great Martin Luther King Jr., Barack had the crowd in a frenzy for the entirety of his 14 minute speech. "America, this is our moment. This is our time. Our time to turn the page on the policies of the past. Our time to bring new energy and new ideas to the challenges we face. Our time to offer a new direction for the country we love." While he consistently mentions his dislike for "pr" (as Rob Rigger of The Daily Show has hilariously illuminated), the Obama campaign has struck a chord with the American people and it comes in the form of one word, CHANGE. Change is what we want, and change is what we'll get. For the first time in eight years, I'm confident America is heading towards changed and better times.

Jam on the River (John's Take): I Could Do This Every Year

2008-05-28T00:20:00.008-04:00

Well, Nate did a pretty damn good job summing up our long holiday weekend. I'm not sure if I have too much else to add, but maybe a little clarification. For those who may not know us personally, Nate hails from Lancaster county, and I, like the rest of the world, am from "outside Philadelphia."

Nate, Andy, and Myself from left to right

This was my 3rd Jam on the River in a row, and, like all things in life, it has changed over time. You might remember here when I first discussed my ambivalence towards the line-up. I had equally mixed feelings after hearing that Saturday's show was moved to Festival Pier from the usual low-key setting of Great Plaza. Festival pier is, after-all, a glorified parking lot, while Great Plaza feels like a sprawling community amphitheater amidst fountains and steps at the waterfront. Moreover, its a venue without walls or restrictions of any sort (security is a joke). It's completely conducive to the essence of "Jam."

However, the larger size of Saturday's show created an energetic vibe from an otherwise lazily stoned atmosphere. Bar none, The Flaming Lips put on the best opening to any show I have ever seen in my life. That's not to say they kept the ball (or large bubble) rolling throughout subsequent songs, but "Race For The Prize" almost felt spiritual in its jubilation. I couldn't find a quality clip from that night, but this one is nearly identical to what we saw:

Sunday was exactly how JOTR is supposed to be: good times with good friends and good local music. RJD2 killed, despite DJing his entire set offstage. Out-of-towner Deadmau5 was also unexpectedly awesome...the audio here is a little sub-par but watch the crowd explode at -0:32

And then, rightfully so, the weekend closed with Lotus -- a young band who's literally evolved from year to year on the Great Plaza stage. Their local fanbase is beginning to rival that of The Biscuits, and, dare I say, so is their light show:

Here's to next year

Jam on the River (Nate's Take): One Fulfilling Philly Weekend

2008-05-27T21:23:00.009-04:00

I just enjoyed a fantastic weekend in Philadelphia where I attended the much anticipated Captain Morgan’s Jam on the River featuring The Disco Biscuits, The Flaming Lips, and Lotus. It was a relaxing time filled with great music, positive people, and unparalleled hospitality by the family of this blog’s co-author, with whom I stayed. I was once again reminded of the calming and optimistic effects music can have not only on an individual, but on an entire culture that is willing to embrace an atmosphere of perpetual happiness.

Saturday afternoon we arrived at Festival Pier just in time catch Bassnectar working the thousands in attendance into a spontaneous dance party with his progressive form of techno and energetic stage presence. I have never been one to get into a live performance from a DJ--preferring the visibility and growth of live music—but Bassnectar’s connection with the crowd and obvious passion for his music gave me a new appreciation of electronica.

After the set I was finally able to take a tour of the pier, and was absolutely fascinated by the cultural community that had literally sprung up overnight in what would normally be an empty parking lot. There was a large tent filled with a wide variety of vendors offering the drug-filled crowd an array of psychedelic jewelry, t-shirts, and art to explore. There were bars offering those who lacked a legitimate tailgate session (but didn’t lack a fat wallet) Captain and Cokes for seven dollars a pop. The scene was social; a steady buzz of conversation filled the venue and few seemed not to be thoroughly enjoying themselves. The crowd was a demographic I was not familiar with but one that I quickly found I related to and understood. The urban jam scene would be my most accurate portrayal. A crowd of college kids with a passion for both Phish and Notorious B.I.G. Oversized-sunglass-wearing liberals with Grateful Dead t-shirts fashionably complimenting their brand new flat-brimmed New Era hats, worn sideways with a confidence that borders on arrogance. City hippies. It was all new to me, and then I was introduced to the culprit behind the culture: The Disco Biscuits.

They came on and immediately broke into a mind-blowing jam of Wizards of Winter, beginning the song as a well-structured piece of classically-influenced music and evolving into a danceable soundscape filled with synthesizer solos and the pulsing energy that has become the bands trademark. The musicianship was staggering, the dedication of the fans admirable, and the show powerful. Before I knew it, I found myself completely immersed in the “trance-fusion” experience and was dancing like a crazed tripping hippie at Woodstock. And I wasn’t alone. By the time The Biscuits finished their second set I was drained of energy and thinking that my $40 ticket had already paid itself off.

And then there were The Flaming Lips. I was expecting a bizarre band with an emphasis on experimentation, but never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined what was to come.Thats right, a crowd-surfing lead singer encapsulated in a plastic bubble. A twenty foot Santa Clause dancing opposite an equally enormous alien. Full frontal nudity for the entirety of a song as five women danced around on stage showing their love of being naked (though unfortunately not their love of razors). Enough confetti to make New Years in Times Square look like a five year-old's birthday party. The Flaming Lips did not put on a concert, they put on a circus. A spectacle of dramatic proportions. It was a celebration that originally filled me with a spontaneous feeling of youthful happiness, but as the show went on my fatigue compounded with the lack of quality music to make me annoyed at the bands performance. The headliners were as original as they come, but the priority of placing sensory overload over auditory delight quickly elevated my disappointment.

Following Saturday’s show we returned to the homey suburban residence of John and continued the celebration into a deep drunken summer slumber. Sunday morning we ventured into some (semi) secret hills of fairmount park before returning to the show, but I think I’ll let John get his ten cents in and give our loyal readers (if such a description exists) his own account of the weekend, including one of his soon to be famous reviews of Lotus' dramatic closing to the festival (visit magnetmagazine.com and check out John’s first published review of The Black Keys).

p.s. Don't trust hot tripping hippie bitches who say they are cold with your favorite shirt, even if they promise to bring it back at the end of the show

All photos c/o Screamin' Andy Beam

Analysis of Integrity

2008-05-18T21:41:00.003-04:00

I was approached with a deep, simple, yet disturbing definition of the word integrity. Integrity is when Beliefs equal Actions. While I would love to describe myself as a man of integrity, by this definition I would be knowingly lying. Actions are easy enough to identify, but beliefs are not quite as straight forward. When does an opinion transform into a belief? Do your beliefs determine your actions or vice versa? I don't think there is a correct answer, and in fact find truth in both possibly conclusions. To a loyal vegan, I would find it hard to argue that their beliefs didn't directly influence their (unnecessary) herbivore actions. To a profiting entrepreneur, I would argue the opposite. In order to maintain the financial comfort their actions have provided them, it seems logical that they would mold their belief system to suit the ethics necessary to live that particular lifestyle. Despite being polar opposites, both of the above examples could be accurately described as having integrity. For myself, the dilemma is that my beliefs are not developed to the point where they have the power to dictate my actions. Instead, my actions are in a scary way predetermined. Watch this movie because it got rave reviews. Go to this college because it looks good on a resume. Where this cologne because the women love it. These are not actions based on belief but rather on mass persuasion. And enough mass persuasion creates mass belief, tailored to the norms of society. I am personally trapped halfway in this belief propaganda machine; my actions directly contradict my beliefs. How is this logical? My beliefs cater to the whole while my actions cater to myself. It's kind of like a Democrat trapped in a Republicans body. No matter how much I believe in the evils of greed, I find myself wanting more. Needing more. Taking more. It is the downfall of the human race. The invisible hand according to Adam Smith. The decision now becomes, do I change my actions or change my beliefs? Because I sure as hell need a little integrity.

Old Folks

2008-05-18T14:48:00.003-04:00

Here's something I picked up from Some Velvet Blog, aka Bruce Warren, assistant general manager for programming at XPN.

If you haven't figured out that this room full of social security-sucking bluegrass musicians are actually playing a cover of one of the biggest songs of 2007, here is the original version:

3/17/08 Journal Entry: 1st day/night of 48 hour desert solo

2008-05-17T11:13:00.004-04:00

Well, this is it. The Edward Abbey experience. 48 hours alone in the desert. Silence. Solitary confinement in the most unconfined landscape I have ever laid eyes on. Time does not exist. Distractions lost; swept into a distant corner of the mind that surrendered to the present. The sun just set below the horizon line and casts pastel tones of orange and yellow, turning the wispy clouds in the sky a deep purple against their Easteresque background. A jet coasts smoothly away from the canvas of the departed sun, as if it knows it is not wanted in this moment of surreal beauty. I sit on a ledge of sandstone, the snaking bed of an ancient river 300 ft below. That river was the culprit of the beautiful disaster that is laid before me. Beside me. Across from me. Above me. The landscape is a place of defect: rock crumbling to the will of the wind, water evaporating to the will of the sky, society submitting to the will of the desert that allows no such intrusion. Sheer cliffs surround me in all directions, browns and reds jutting downward, the first line of defense from the burdens of modern man. A coyote howls in the distance, I look across the vast openness that separates us and allow the mournful sound to serenade me into my surroundings. I am in a place and state never before experienced. The moon to my back, a ghostly gibbous sitting alone in the Eastern sky. The chill air engulfs me, yet another layer is not in order. As the brightness is slowly seeped out of the canyons, the remnants of the morning snow make themselves evermore distinct. Patchy blankets of white stretch across the sloping ridges at the base of the cliffs, spotted with Bonzai-like trees and solitary shrubs--surprised at the unexpected encounter. The Western sky is now a sea of orange and red stretching across the blackening horizon line. The moon grows brighter and Sirius has made its appearance directly in front of me, foreshadowing what is to come. The coyote halts his cries, and a peacefulness settles over the day. The night. What a magical transition at the tip of the mesa. Ten feet in any direction would surely lead to my death, yet I feel no fear. I wish to be nowhere but here.

My Morning Jacket on SNL

2008-05-12T15:14:00.004-04:00

I'm not the first to say it, but My Morning Jacket is the best young rock band in America. I saw them in December '06 at the Electric Factory and they blew my mind. The Philadelphia show was specially billed with post-jam/prog. jazz titans, The Benevento Russo Duo and pre-iTunes megastars, The Slip. I'm scheming to get up to Manhattan on June 6th to see MMJ headline one of their largest shows to date - Radio City.

If you don't want to stick it out through this whole clip, just skip ahead to -1:46 and prepare for a solid minute and a half of shredding; it's something most of their contemporaries (save Nels Cline and Wilco) are too cool or too scared to try these days.

Welcome Back // The Harvest

2008-05-11T01:31:00.017-04:00

It's been far too long. Blame finals, blame mixed feelings about moving home, blame anxiety about summer employment. Let's get past all of that. Nate is back from his semester of adventure in the Rocky Mountains and I'm sure (or desperately hoping) that he'll transcribe some of his high altitude journal entries in the coming days.

Here is a piece I just had published in the spring issue of Alt. Magazine. For those of you in State College, go pick up a free copy at City Lights, Webster's, or Chronic Town, among other places. We'll be passing them out in the HUB during the first week of fall classes and hopefully at some local shows during the fall semester. It really does look pretty incredible, and I couldn't be happier to call myself a part of it.

So anyways, here we go. Starting off a hopefully productive summer of blogging for the five of you who read this. Here's looking at you, Em.

The following is a first-person account of the first night of the 2007 Chuck's Farm Harvest Festival. Every last detail is true.

The Harvest

The offers ring out as we walk along the beaten path toward the clearing of the meadow. Aside from the headlights of incoming cars, the road is pitch black. The harvest moon, full and bright, glides in and out of patchy clouds. On occasion it shines white like a fluorescent light bulb, illuminating the 44-acre farm and more than one thousand visitors on this September night.

Chuck Roeschen is not your average farmer. He is the ringleader of a sustainable community that has refused to die despite countless efforts by conservative Centre County residents and law enforcement agents. Each year he holds free music festivals on his Brush Valley sunflower farm, the largest of which takes place in the fall to celebrate the Harvest Moon.

“The cops came last year and tried to shut us down,” says Chris, the farm’s main vendor at the September 28th State College Farmer’s Market. “But there’s really nothing they could do, there were three of them and a couple thousand of us.” He pauses for a moment and shakes his head with a big smile. “They left after five minutes.”

In addition to fresh sunflowers, basil, garlic, and assorted greens, Chris has a stack of pink flyers on today’s table with directions to Chuck’s Farm. He is handing them out and answering questions to curious Penn State students walking through the market on Locust Lane. “It’s totally free. You just show up and bring what you need,” he says with a smile. From our brief meeting, I can tell that Chris is one of Chuck’s many followers, perhaps even his protégé. Like Chuck, Chris has long blonde dreadlocks and a scraggly beard.

Hours later the sun is gradually setting along the mountains of Highway 192, just outside of Centre Hall. A mere thirty minutes from the ever-expanding bubble of State College lies farm land that seems untouched since the late 1800s. It is as humbling as it is frightening.
“If you hit a dog out here, would you stop and check on it or just keep going?” asks my roommate Lloyd from the passenger seat. I shoot him an angry stare.

“Keep going,” I reply. “Do you know what these country hicks are like?” Our conversation is more joking than ignorant or xenophobic, but nevertheless the thought sits with me. The eerie melodies of Wilco’s A Ghost is Born echo through the speakers of my Jeep as we speed along the empty highway. “I don’t want to be out here any longer than I have to.”

It’s an especially windy night and the temperature will dip below sixty degrees. Perhaps because we are lost in conversation, or because the wind knocks the sign down, we end up thirty minutes beyond our destination, somewhere around Bald Eagle State Park. When we finally correct our mistake and make that sharp hidden turn off Highway 192, I sigh a deep breath. A long dirt road guides us onto the farm where dozens of cars, tailgates, and campsites line the grass.

The now 90-minute trip has fried our nerves and we don’t even bother to set up camp. I pop the trunk and dive into the Styrofoam cooler. We each gulp down two Bud Lights, load up our pockets, and head down the road.

The concert is slated to start at 7:30pm, but it is now 8 o’clock and the stage is bereft of instruments and musicians. We head back toward the camping area with many psychedelic solicitations along the way. There’s no one-way to describe the passing people. If one has long hair and an oversized beaded drug rug, the next has jeans and a Penn State sweatshirt. Despite such differences, there is an undeniable feeling of community on the farm tonight.

At 9:00pm a steady stream of cars is still filing in. A sea of tents surrounds the main road in every direction for fifty yards, illuminated by two-dozen or so campfires. We mosey over to a friend’s site toting snacks and my set of bongos.

I take a seat next to the fire and play along with the guitar player’s understated melody. The flame dies down and Lloyd fans it with a collapsed case of Miller Lite. A can of Pringles is passed down the line from one side and a roasting bowl from the other. I envy the lucky camper who gets to chase his toke with a handful of chips.

These patterns continue for close to an hour with neighboring campers wandering over to say hello. More guitars appear, as do various cases of light beer, each cheaper than the one that preceded it. One particularly generous guy even sends a spliff around the circle, now twenty people in circumference. At 10:30 the concert still hasn’t started and no one seems to notice.

“Have you guys been down to the Kitchen yet?” asks a man in a Penguins hockey jersey.

“The what?”

“The Kitchen, down around the big trees off the main road. There’s a shit-load of free food!”

With our munchies and curiosity at full peak, Lloyd and I leave the camp to go in search of this food with that tasty adjective, “free.” Down the road at the base of several tall pines runs a narrow pathway lit by garden torches. The path twists and bends for about a hundred feet before we step through a wire archway and join a circle of people at a large fire. There’s a table with assorted bottles and spices surrounding the biggest stir-fry pot I’ve ever seen.

Lloyd scrunches his nose. “What’s in it?”

A short woman shines a flashlight in our direction. “It’s all veggies, rice, and whatever extras people donate. Do you have anything to contribute?” She has a hunched back, big glasses and stirs the pot like a witch over a caldron.

“Ummm…not right now,” Lloyd replies.

“Well go ahead,” she says, “Take a handful.”

“Are there any plates or bowls?” he wearily asks.

The woman shakes her head and goes back to her methodical stirring. We turn around and face the fire pit where a small group is grilling burgers and hot dogs.

“Bun?” asks a man with a smile. We each take one and watch the meat roast over the open flame. Two hot dogs and a few introductions later we leave the kitchen and make our way back through the woods.

“You!”

Two hands grasp my shoulders: my deadhead TA from last semester.

“What are you doing here!?” she shouts. Her eyes are wide and vacant like a raccoon.

“I’m here for the show,” I tell her, “What are you doing here?” She looks around. “Are you tripping?” I quietly ask.

She looks around excitedly.

“Yeah! Are you?”

“No.”

“I ate some mushrooms that my dad found in our backyard! I gotta go, bye!” She stumbles down the path before I can say anything more. A part of me wants to find someone to go help her, but I realize there are no medics, no security, nor police officers within a mile. We move on toward the stage.

State College’s funk/rock quintet, The Man, is in the heat of their set at the stage on the big hill. We maneuver our way into the audience just in time to hear an extended improvisational jam coming to a close. The band takes a breath then bursts into a cover of Kool & The Gang’s “Jungle Boogie.” The audience roars in applause and an uninhibited dance party comes to life.

At the end of their set, loud chants of “CHUCK! CHUCK! CHUCK!” sweep through the crowd and the grizzly man himself appears from the side of the stage. He stumbles about in search of a microphone and looks just as wide-eyed as my TA had back in the woods. His long hair shines especially grey under the stage lights and he has two neon glow sticks braided into his foot-long beard. At first glance he appears stoned and confused, intimidated by the wild crowd before him. He calls for silence and the flock obeys.

“I just have a quick announcement to make.” He suddenly has the poise of a politician (Note: Chuck Roeschen appeared on the ballot of the Democratic primary for the position of Centre County Commissioner this past year).

“We do this every year to foster a sense of community. That’s what this whole thing is about. We are a community, and we celebrate that fact.” He pauses while people cheer and applaud. “And I think an essential part of building community is breaking bread, which is why we have the kitchen. I’d really like to see more volunteers down there over the course of the weekend, keeping things productive, making breakfast for everyone tomorrow!” The crowd cheers and nods their heads. He starts again, “We bought a hundred pounds of potatoes and…and…it’s not about that! It’s about breaking bread and being a community and that’s all I have to say!” He leaves the stage with a fist in the air and people circle around him to offer praise and ‘thank you’s.’ He shakes them off and stumbles down the hill.

“He’s got my vote,” I say to Lloyd with a smile.

Tuesday (Tearful) Time Machine

2008-04-22T22:06:00.003-04:00

Obama lost Pennsylvania. Cue sad music (press play on the clip now)

However, this past weekend was incredible. I'm so goddamn nostalgic about it already. Half of my time in State College has already passed. So be it. More in-depth posts soon...it's just too hard to sit isolated at a computer on warm breath nights with music like this...

This week's clip: Neil Young, "Out on the Weekend," from his seminal album, Harvest

HILL-arious

2008-04-21T01:17:00.002-04:00

Hillary spoke tonight to a whopping 1,500 rain-soaked potential voters at Rec Hall. I, like 40,500 members of the Penn State student body, did not attend. Can you blame us? Leaving the comfort of our Sunday couch with a spring rain backdrop in the haze of a post-Blue and White binge? Sorry, Hilldog. Your husband brought 8,000. Your rival brought 22,000.

But Tuesday is Tuesday...

Click here for Collegain VIDEO highlights of the speech.

Tuesday Time Machine

2008-04-15T21:06:00.004-04:00

The weather is finally turning here in Happy Valley. Beautiful forecast for the rest of this week and into Blue and White weekend. I just got back from Dollar Dog Night at Medlar Field and, while it's a far cry from College Night at the Phils, it was great to see some baseball up close and sit outside as the sun went down. I hope you enjoy this song as a backdrop for whatever warm weather activity you find yourself doing these next few nights.

Water Cooler Jokes

2008-04-11T17:41:00.009-04:00

Last night's episode of The Office was incredible. After several months without my Thursday night fix, this episode couldn't have come any sooner. Sure, it was as absurd and awkward and over-the-top as ever (perhaps even more so than the rabies debacle at the beginning of the season), but the emotional subtleties and story-lines are growing exponentionally.

The aggravatingly slow evolution of Jim and Pam throughout the first three seasons kept an otherwise threadbare series from fading into a canceled cult phenomenon (i.e. Arrested Development, Freaks and Geeks). Yes, Dwight's timing and one-liners are reason enough for many to tune in week after week, but the rest of us want more. And so came the rise of Andy Bernard.

As is most evident in "The Finer Things Club," Andy's character is laden with intense vulnerability, insecurity, and a desperate need to be liked. His cocky demeanor is so visibly transparent and his desperation evokes more sympathy than any deadpan Pam (deadPam?) stare ever could. He also had me in stitches with last night's instantaneous response to Michael's investment pitch: "Thought about it. I'm in."

The seriousness and dedication to which Steve Carrell devotes his portrayal of Michael is often missed. Every nuance of his performance is so carefully calculated to underscore Michael's ignorance and immaturity - emotionally, professionally, and socially. And in spite of his endless tupidity, Michael's good heart and noble intentions are gut-wrenching in the wake of Jan's wrath (particularly during the brilliant scenes of her deposition).

Here is a clip from last night's gold mind.

Tuesday Time Machine

2008-04-08T17:56:00.001-04:00

Alice in Chains - "No Excuses"

Drastically over-shadowed by Nirvana's "MTV Unplugged," this performance shows the depth and complexity of grunge when played without distortion.

26 Things I Can Live Without (and one I can't)

2008-04-07T21:06:00.001-04:00

Arthritis.
Bad posture.
Compliance to machinery.
Direct impersonal connection.
E-mail Addiction, where’s the support group?
Facebook Friends Forever.
Google how lazy I am.
Hundreds of hours I’ll never get back.
Intelligent design.
Java. More java.
Kids on Myspace
Loading…
Millions of Mp3s, Please.
Never use a phone again.
Omnipotent spyware
Penis enlargement solicitations.
Questionable ethics
Raunchy College Girls FOR FREE!
Sex I’ll never have.
Two Girls One Cup
Unlimited existentialism.
Virtual relationships (and break-ups)
Www.perezhilton.com
Xylophones on Ebay
YouTube, YouPorn, YouPatheticLoser
Zoom...we're dead

Tuesday Time (Traveling Wilburys) Machine

2008-04-01T23:49:00.006-04:00

The Traveling Wilburys - "End of the Line"

If you don't recognize at least one face in this video, may God have mercy on your American Idol-ized soul.

Keeping Up With Ryan Adams

2008-03-31T19:00:00.011-04:00

"I won't say Adams is the best North-American Singer-Songwriter since Neil Young...but I won't say he isn't, either." - Stephen King

It is widely known that Ryan Adams is one of the most prolific singer-songwriters of the past 15 years. To those unfamiliar with his work, no, he did not sing "Summer of '69," that's Canadian douche Bryan Adams. Videos from his blog/alter ego, D.R. Adams Films Inc., have been orbiting the blogosphere for weeks (ever since he name dropped Wilco in a mock music video). I find it so rare and so humbling that a person of his stature keeps a truly public (albeit enigmatic) blog. Here are a few of my favorite off-beat clips from his excursions on the web so far.

"ROLL CREDITS" from Ryan Adams on Vimeo.

"THURSDAY NIGHT" from Ryan Adams on Vimeo.

Writing the Hits with Stupid from Ryan Adams on Vimeo.

WE ARE...Galvanized

2008-03-30T20:46:00.020-04:00

Well, we were wrong on the date and location prediction, but we broke the news before any of our fellow campus bloggers. By now you already know that the man spoke to an estimated 22,000 on the lawn of Old Main this afternoon. As Spanier watched from behind with a nauseatingly smug grin, (careful never to applaud nor react to the Senator's speech), flack-jacketed special forces with high powered binoculars scanned the multi-racial sea of students and Central Pennsylvanians. A sniper stood perched at the top of the Old Main bell tower.

We walked through auxiliary metal detectors on the lawn's south slope after passing through a security checkpoint of Nittany Lion Football players. Several hundred volunteers lined the walkways and perimeters, creating a smiling human barricade to supplement the wood and wire fences. The whole operation was so carefully calculated, so professional, so, for lack of a better word, BIG. All of this for a candidate...still waiting to receive his nomination...still eight months away from election.

The magnitude of this day will stay with me for a long time. How is he able to "turn off" and sleep at night? How does he speak for several hours a day, seven days a week? How does he keep his health after shaking thousands of hands, traveling, sleeping in hotels? (The Penn Stater to be exact) How does his ego not explode?

And, that horrible question, what happens if he loses?

(That's me in the red hat! - stolen from BarackObama.com)

***All other images c/o Centre Daily Times, except the Sniper shot, c/o Catherine Seraphin***

UPDATE (4/1): Collegian Video Montage of the Speech

Vote Gav For Prez

2008-03-26T12:49:00.009-04:00

It's a no brainer - aside from the fact that Gavin Keirans and Valarie Russell are the only qualified candidates in 2008 UPUA Election, they are also the only ticket with a specific platform. I've known Gav since my Freshman year of high school at St. Joseph's Prep, and can fully attest to his dedication for getting sh*t done. Additionally, Gav and Valarie have received endorsements from three of the most powerful, opinionated, and "no-mercy" groups on campus. Take a look...

The Daily Collegain Board of Editors:

Keirans, Russell offer clear vision

Among this year's slate of UPUA candidates, only Gavin Keirans and his running mate, Valarie Russell, can credibly make the case that they will break free of the mold and deliver real change for students.

Keirans and Russell are the only candidates that have achievable, concrete goals rather than half-baked ideas.

With their experience and in-depth knowledge of UPUA, Keirans and Russell are the only candidates prepared to start working Thursday morning, without spending two months learning parliamentary procedure.

And among this year's selection of presidential tickets, Keirans and Russell are the only candidates who have ever attended a UPUA general assembly meeting.

In a platform that's three times longer than the most verbose of their opponents', Keirans and Russell spell out a series of attainable goals -- regular meetings with Student Affairs representatives, creating a student-landlord dispute resolution center and implementing a medical amnesty policy, among others.

They do share some initiatives with their opponents, like expanding CATA's late-night route. However, where the others only offer vague aspirations, Keirans and Russell propose a well-researched plan -- asking the University Park Allocations Committee to fund a test trial of late-night routes.

Keirans and Russell bring proven dedication to the table. After Keirans lost in last year's elections, he continued to advocate for students as executive director of grassroots organization Safeguard Old State. He already has a working relationship with interim Vice President for Student Affairs Gail Hurley. Russell has experience in both UPUA and the University Faculty Senate.

Tom Shakely, VP of The Lion 90.7FM and Founder of Safeguard Old State (SOS):

I've worked with Gavin and Valarie closely in Safeguard Old State and UPUA and I can attest to their deep wealth of experience, solid grasp of the issues facing (and more often plaguing) our University, and I know that they will help usher in a new era for Penn Staters -- students and alums alike -- if you can spare a minute of your time in voting for them TODAY (anytime between 6am and 10pm).

In the words of Smalls, "Don't be a doofus!" Vote Now.

Tuesday Time Machine

2008-03-25T18:34:00.008-04:00

Obama to Hillary: Keg Stands for Delegates

2008-03-24T01:57:00.015-04:00

Reliable sources tell us that our main man, our non-sexual man crush, Barack Insane-in-the-Hussein Obama, will indeed visit dear old Happy Valley before the April 22nd Pennsylvania Primary. While a certified date and venue are still up for speculation, I think it's safe to say that we can expect B-Dog some time before Blue and White Weekend at the BJC. If not, Obama's campaign officials have confirmed that he will appear at SAMstock on Sunday, April 20th to sign Proposition 4-20.

Nate and I seriously, whole-heartedly, and 100% endorse Senator Obama for President. Nevertheless, here are a few shots from his recent stops on the trail...

"I may throw like a girl, but I have a sick jump shot."

"One bear claw for Hill-dog, please."

"Look, Sasha! George finally ran out of fossil fuel!"

Jam on the River Line-up Announced; Chin Scratches Ensue

2008-03-19T17:10:00.012-04:00

Jam festivals have skyrocketed in popularity these last few years. Short answer: blame it on Bonnaroo. What started in the early 2000s as a respectable southern festival for emerging jam/folk artists quickly became the "it" festival for all things un-jam. Following the success of other large-scale fests like Lollapalooza and Vegoose, it seems that promoters from all markets, both major and minor, are cashing in on this "thing," this festival experience, that jam fans have relentlessly supported for more than 20 years (More to come on this later...)

Philadelphia's Jam on the River was always sort of the exception. No camping, no out-of-towners, and almost all of the bands stuck to the realms of jam/folk/reggae/world music. At the heart of JOTR was a commitment to showcasing upcoming locals: Ween, Townhall, The Brakes, Dr. Dog, etc. It has been anchored by The Disco Biscuits for the past several years, who, all opinions aside, have a shred of local credibility from their origins on the Penn frat scene. Each year they evolved a little further from a direction-less college band who struck rare moments of glory into one of the country's leading jam bands in the post-Phish era. And aside from giving us even more of a reason to scoff at flat-brimmed quasi-jam skateboarders from Conestoga, Bisco opened the festival's doors to credible electro bands like Lotus and STS9.

This year, however, the line-up fails to evoke the indescribable down-home Philly feeling, the block party feeling, the "this is our festival" feeling. Nevertheless, I am floored to have the chance to see The Lips on such a small stage. And its about time RJD2 got his moment in the sun.

The Brakes @ Jam on the River 2007, Day 2

As reported by Jambase.com:

JAM ON THE RIVER
Memorial Day Weekend 2008 Great Plaza at Penn's Landing
Friday, May 23 - Sunday, May 25
Weekends Worth of Shows at Great Plaza, Electric Factory & Fillmore at the TLA

The Weekend Lineup:

Friday @ Midnight / TLA
The New Deal | Jam On The River Kick-Off Party!

Saturday @ 1pm / Great Plaza
The Flaming Lips, RJD2, Josh Ritter and Bassnectar | Day 1

Saturday @ 11pm / Electric Factory
Disco Biscuits | Late-Night Show (18+ show)

Sunday @ 1pm / Great Plaza
Disco Biscuits, Deadmau5, The Avett Brothers, Lotus and American Babies | Day 2

Sunday @ 11pm / TLA
Conspirator & RJD2 | Late-Night Show

Sunday @ 11pm / Electric Factory
Dark Star Orchestra | Late-Night Show

Spring Break, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Tourists

2008-03-18T21:11:00.002-04:00

Lauderdale By the Sea

There are no balconies in Hotel del Mar,
merely rooms with sliding glass doors
that open to a barred railing where a porch should be.

Under my perch, German Shepherds and French-Canadian
factory workers line the trapezoid-shaped pool.
For 15 greenbacks they can snag 5 Coronas –
in cans –
and a clear plastic cup with a dried lime wedge
asleep in the sandy circle bottom.

A stretch-marked 40-something is inhaling
a thick romance novel with dark print
on sandy beach pages. She picked it up
for $12.95 at the airport B. Dalton,
it’s receipt still nestled in her assistant Coach
pleather pouch.

Teetering on the edge of the deep end,
the kraut children do not don felt mouse ears,
No. That park was too expensive.
Instead they clutch miniature whales –
Shamoo or Free Willy’s brother-in-law,
I’m still not sure.

Opposite the revolving hot dogs,
an invisible DJ spins classic rock deep cuts.
Box of Rain. Please Please Me. Almost Cut My Hair.
He’s waiting for his shift to end so he can stand
behind keyboards at the outdoor bar across town –
the one that the Americans go to.

This job has its perks, though.
Imported cans and plastic mojitos are CPR
in the wake of a daylight savings sunburn.

Little Lars Locks his Legs into a cannonball.
“Say, dos’ you have Kraftwerk?” shouts Lars.
(Sigh).
Let me check.

Brandon's Spring Break

2008-03-18T20:53:00.003-04:00

Keats and Yeats: Well I was texting this person...
Keats and Yeats: Wouldn't tell me who he/she was/
Keats and Yeats: So I figured it was you.
Keats and Yeats: I was like, John?
Keats and Yeats: And they were like "you got it!"
Keats and Yeats: So I continued texting this person for about two weeks, thinking that it was, for whatever reason, your number.
Keats and Yeats: And they continued texting me back just the same.
Keats and Yeats: And last night I texted them about today's poem.
Keats and Yeats: And they were like, how should I know?
Keats and Yeats: So I was like, get online, you piece of crap.
Keats and Yeats: Then he/she goes, "I don't have your screenname."
Keats and Yeats: And I said, look, is it okay for me to call, or do you usually not talk to people on the phone?
Keats and Yeats: They were like, don't call, I barely know you.
Keats and Yeats: Here I am thinking, all right, stutters on the phone, doesn't want to talk. Understandable. I ask a second time, IM me, please...
Keats and Yeats: This person says, I'll need your screenname.
Keats and Yeats: So it goes on for a while and I found out that they somehow picked up my number on the streets of Philly and decided to save it.
Keats and Yeats: Now, this person answered text messages about "kegs and eggs," spooning nightly, the Bible and politics over the course of a couple of weeks, never asking anything personal about me or telling me anything personal about themselves.
Keats and Yeats: I assumed it was you.
Keats and Yeats: That's the end of my story.
Keats and Yeats: See, I do this thing from time to time. I'll stare at someone all day, someone I don't know well. And then I'll motion for them to come over.
Keats and Yeats: And when they walk over I lean in really close and whisper, "do you like chocolate?"
Keats and Yeats: Listen to their answer, then walk away.
Keats and Yeats: I always thought, "what a great way to freak someone out!"
Keats and Yeats: This text thing, though, completely takes the cake. Whoever this is is bizarre to the max.

Meet Brandon, his brother Bryan, and some guy I don't know

Rommates

2008-03-14T00:36:00.008-04:00

Original Date: September 20, 2006

I wasn't supposed to go to summer school. I was supposed to be down the shore with the rest of my graduating class. I was supposed to have one final directionless summer before I shipped off to the sea of higher learning and adulthood.

“I’m sorry, John. Your SATs are just too low.” This phrase echoed through my mind from about October of senior year through this very moment. Because of my inability to perform on less-than-objective standardized tests, I was forced to start college a few months early. Ok, maybe I’m being over-dramatic. Three guys from my class and a few girls I knew were doing it too, but none were what I’d call friends.

I said a less-than-easy goodbye to my parents and bunkered in with Dale Uminski from “outside Pittsburgh.” When I trudged back in from the farewell curb, Dale was straightening the edges of his WWE Divas poster. Out of 3,999 potential roommates, I landed the one who still watches wrestling. No, he didn’t watch. He kneeled at the altar of John Cena, among other fictional bravados.

“I got some hot sauce if you want some later,” said Dale. He hurled the 32oz tub on the top shelf and began a frantic search for his hammer and nails; items he was “sure mum had put in the stuff box.”

“So where you from anyway?” he asked.

“Philly,” I responded, not looking up from my MacBook.

“Awww Eagles fan eh? Yea whatchu know about a Super Bowl?”
NFL football meant nothing to me, as did most professional sports. Rather, I thrived off the energy and passion of collegiate athletics and was a fiend for March Madness.

“Not really,” I replied.

“Well good ‘cause they suck anyway. You got a girl?”

“Ehhh…” I replied. We had said an emotional goodbye two nights before. That was a wound I would’ve preferred not to open up. Much less dump his hot sauce into.

“How ‘bout you?” I asked.

“Yeaaa buddy. Goin’ on two years. She’ll be up to visit a lot, don’t you worry.”

Just what I needed, to be a fly on the wall of their redneck sex. I could see her now, all dolled up in cheap velour and K-Swiss running shoes.

“Got it!” he yelled, raising the lost hammer in triumph. He nailed five hunting hats to the wall. Maybe now’s not the best time to tell him I’m a vegan.

Three Places

2008-03-04T18:43:00.014-05:00

Three Places I've Never Been (and want to go)

He can see us from his perch on the bell tower.
He’s looking down upon the quad where Owen Wilson
and Wes Anderson will one day walk,
perhaps on their way to Stubb’s Bar-B-Q.
They share a similar sentiment; a disdain
for the beliefs of highways and ranches outside
their sweet college town.

Meanwhile, a little north and a little west,
Silver Bullets are piercing through hemp store windows.
The owner ducks…then rises…and carries exactly one ounce –
such is the legal limit to evade handcuffs –
out back to have a smoke.

And later, in a thrift store alley
a wanderer is heating wet Rice-A-Roni
over a crackling fire barrel.
He’s waiting for Danny Tanner and Jerry Garcia
to stop by and swap recipes.

Confessions Of A Fat Bitch

2008-02-24T22:22:00.006-05:00

12 A.M. My journey commences at Belly Buster Burritos. Short on provisions I strike first with the “Bodacious Burrito.” For those unfamiliar, the awesomely underused adjective “Bodacious” implies that the quantity of two “Belly Buster” Burritos will be rolled into one floury mess for $9.00. Three bites later the contents have spilled onto the wrapper and I am now struggling to eat with my hands. This stop would have all been in vain were it not for the complimentary chips and salsa.

12:15 A.M. Still hungry. I take ten steps and arrive at the 24-hour McDonald’s with a “whoa new look.” Long lines, pleather chairs in front of a kerosene fireplace and an obtuse HDTV. The aroma of french fries invades my nostrils. “#1 Large, please.” Impatience creeps in as I wait a full five minutes before they hand me my bag of grease. Large coke and three tubs of ketchup from what resembles a keg tap. Three pieces of bread, two dripping beef patties, multiple toppings and secret sauce; I’m on my way to a Big Mac Heart Attack.

12:40 A.M. Satisfied, but there’s room for more. Making a slight detour on Sowers St. I aim to answer the question on the large neon sign before me: Are U Hungry? Amidst a wall menu of “Fat” sandwiches, I settle on the classic “Fat Bitch.” For $6.69 I loosen my belt for an 8-inch cheesesteak topped with chicken fingers, mozzarella sticks, mayo, ketchup, and fries. I am stalled after finishing barely half the sandwich, but I chomp along in fear of being labeled a you-know-what.

The walk down Calder Way helps settle the 2-3 pounds of undigested food in my churning stomach. It’s just after 1:00 A.M. I must keep going; I must stand-up for my brethren who are confined to sofas and plush chairs (most likely waiting for wings to be delivered).

Ascending the slight incline towards Beaver Ave, the word “dough” catches my eye and I order a “Buffer Zone,” or Buffalo Chicken calzone. While waiting for my boxed pizza alternative, I gaze at a gallery of stereotypical posters. Between a screenshot from Old School and I HEART BEER, it feels like the dorm room of John Q. Freshman, a double major in Natty and Vlady. I ponder what the letters “D.P.” might stand for. Dire Poison? Dog Poop? Double Penetration? Nevertheless, the quality and taste of this oversized ‘zone is above anything I’ve had all night.

1:30 A.M. Filled beyond capacity, yet still hungry, I take my longest break of the night and continue west towards Pugh St. It’s not enough to have one “Fat” Sandwich maker within a one mile radius; State College needs two (three if you count the second Are U Hungry?). Following a lawsuit over copyright infringement, Mr. C’s Grill Specialties has arguably become king of the “Fat” market. Offering an equal range of heart-burning sandwiches at competitive prices, Mr. C’s inches past Are U Hungry? in both size and quality. Though second to open State College, they claim to have invented the “Fat” concept at Rutgers University in 1984. But none of that matters now, as I’m inhaling a 12-inch “Fat Beach” before a crowd of invisible spectators.

That last stop changed the game. Stumbling back onto College Ave, I am disoriented and nauseous. I struggle to keep from puking in passing trashcans. My only motivation is fear – fear of getting cited by the police for underage over-consumption. I cross Allen St., holding my nose as to avoid the buttery bait of The Diner’s famous Stickies. It’s even harder to slip past the new 24/7 Dunkin’ Donuts. A Blue Loop whizzes by. I need urgent care at Mt. Nittany Medical Center, but I refrain. Those ambulance rides are expensive.

1:59 A.M. I collapse on the doorstep of Taco Bell. The interior purples and teals are as vibrant as my grandfather described on his deathbed. The smells, Oh, the smells! Crawling through the maze line like a pig, I stand and order the Fiesta Platter I’ve seen advertised so many times on T.V. They hand me a large black airline-style tray. It is probably enough food to satisfy a starving family in Africa for a day. If only they had T-Bell in the Serengeti…

For now, its time for Fourthmeal, or, in my case, sixth meal.

There Will Be Milkshakes

2008-02-05T20:08:00.001-05:00

This clip speaks for itself. Yeah USF!

* SPOILER WARNING * There Will Be Blood

2008-02-05T20:06:00.001-05:00

In response to Nate's previous post, which I don't really agree with, I have decided to throw in my own "appreciation" of the delightful film. Please enjoy this clip and the one above it coming shortly.

There Will Be An Underacheiver

2008-02-05T00:52:00.001-05:00

I went into my viewing of There Will Be Blood with high expectations. Nominated for a shit-ton of Academy Awards. Score by Jonny Greenwood of Radiohead. The best film of the decade! While I knew it was going to be a dark film that forced the viewer to continue watching what they didn’t want to see, I was very disappointed in the overall power of the film. When the credits started rolling, I felt as though I was forced into a disturbing world of greed that failed to instill in me a universal feeling of anger that I almost wanted to get out of the movie. I was troubled; I wasn’t haunted. If you’re going to make a film about a mad oil-man whose love of money and superiority removes all other love from his being, you need to show it through more than random acts of spontaneous murder. I viewed Daniel Plainview more as a psycho than an example of the effects greed can have on a person, which diminished the films ability to make a social and political statement in the midst of its blatant avarice.

The pace and score of the film were not sub-par, but again not up to expectation. Like Magnolia, Paul Thomas Anderson’s slow direction and reliance on photogenic cinematography bring the film to a complete halt at times. While allowing the viewer time for reflection and thought during a film can be a valuable tool for an enthralled audience, the 158 minute runtime was no doubt excessive for a project with minimal action. Overall I felt the minimalist score suited the open scenery and lack of complexity on the screen, but at times Greenwood’s creations got simply annoying. The continual use of a high-pitched string note to create emotion was intriguing the first couple times, but deafening by the end. To its credit it did establish consistency. Other musical compositions in the film seemed to lack professionalism and utilize very abstract, unrythmic percussion parts, never allowing the listener to establish a pulse to the racket.

With my disappointments established, there are some very high points to There Will Be Blood. It is a dynamic character study, and Daniel Day Lewis’s performance is certainly Oscar Worthy. In a Bill the Butcher-like (Gangs of New York) approach, Lewis has no trouble playing a truly troubled character. He is perhaps the best actor I have ever seen at summoning anger within him self, and the authenticity of his emotions made watching him for two and a half hours manageable. Paul Dano’s portrayal of Eli, a fanatic local minister whose relationship with Plainview creates the films most memorable dialogue, is in my opinion worthy of a Best Supporting Actor nomination.

Despite a stellar cast and some genius moments of writing (final conversation with deaf son), the film could not seem to pull everything together. For sections at I time I would get a glimpse of its brilliance, but always failed to maintain it. There Will Be Blood had the potential to be a masterpiece, and managed to be a good film that was unsuccessful at becoming better than the sum of its parts.

Hello FairTax, Goodbye IRS

2008-01-21T19:48:00.000-05:00

For a loud-mouth right-wing radio host who I would usually be eager to criticize, Neal Boortz is surprisingly right on the money with The FairTax Book (coauthored by Georgia congressman John Linder). In fact, I just read the entire book in one sitting completely enthralled by its brilliance. That is exactly what the proposed FairTax system is, brilliant, and the fact that only two ultra-conservative candidates support it (Huckabee and Paul) is baffling.

The truth is this; the current tax system in America is a joke. Its complexity is unnecessary to the point of absurdity and the loopholes it allows, especially to the wealthy, are completely against the morals this nation was founded on. Not to mention that the entire idea of an income tax is unconstitutional under Article 1, Section 9 which reads “No Capitation, or other direct, Tax shall be laid, unless in Proportion to the Census of Enumeration hereinbefore directed to be taken.” Billions of dollars in revenue are currently lost due to tax evasion, and no one seems to be doing anything about it.

That’s where the FairTax system comes in. To put into the simplest terms possible, a FairTax system is a proposal to abolish the Internal Revenue Service (IRS if you didn’t catch on) and replace all existing taxes, including the income tax, with a national sales tax placed on all retail items. Rather than taxing income, the government would be taxing consumption. Its important to note that this system does not raise or cut taxes; it simply generates the same amount of tax revenue in a transparent and logical way.

To account for the disproportion of income consumed by the wealthy in comparison to the poor, the system also has in its proposal a “prebate” that every household would get every month to cover the taxes on all necessities up to the poverty line. This would eliminate nearly all sales taxes on the poor, in addition to keeping every penny they make from their paychecks. And this is supposed to be a right-wing idea? You would think Ralph Nader would draw up such a proposal!

Another impressive economic phenomenon the FairTax takes advantage of is that of embedded taxes. Based on research done by Dr. Dale Jorgenson, chairman of the Harvard Economics Department, 22% of the price paid for a consumer product represents embedded taxes. These are costs that producers pass on to consumers in order to pay their required taxes. If the FairTax is put in place, these corporate taxes would be removed and ultimately, based on simple market competition, the prices of all consumer goods would drop dramatically. Once the 23% sales tax required by the FairTax system is added to the 22% drop in prices, Americans would be paying only slightly more for their products, while eliminating all other form of taxation.

At this point I though to myself, “There is no way this system could ever create the required revenue that the federal government requires.” This is where the genius of the plan really shows its face. Under the current tax system, billions of dollars in revenues are lost in two ways: underground economies (illicit drug market) and overseas in banks that the government can’t touch. Even though this money is spent in our economy, none of this money is taxed. That would all change under the FairTax system. Even though they don’t file income taxes, drug dealers and those who hide money in foreign banks still spend money which would now be taxed and generate new revenue for the government. Unless you refuse to spend money, tax evasion would be impossible.

After thoroughly learning the simplicity and effectiveness a FairTax system would have on our nation, it is hard to see why so few people know about it. Perhaps it is too radical an idea for a predominate candidate to support. Maybe its association with right-wing talk show hosts is too much for people to take seriously. Whatever the reason, it’s a shame. Because the FairTax system is the correct and revolutionary solution to the failed and abused tax system America is currently struggling with.

Rat Race

2008-01-19T14:42:00.002-05:00

While I have always been one to be interested in political issues and develop personal opinions through research, I have never given much attention to actual politicians and their positions as thoroughly as I have over the past few months. This has of course been a result of the constant coverage of the 2008 Presidential Race in nearly every medium of media you come across. Perhaps it is just because of my age—a twenty year old college kid embracing a newly found thirst for political knowledge—but I feel that there has arisen a new interest in politics in America. No longer is it just my parents who will occasionally bring to my attention a well-written article on Giuliani or a shocking documentary on the War in Iraq, but my peers as well. For the first time I can ever remember, presidential debates are of interest to friends of mine who never gave a shit about the future of our nation previously. It is a rather interesting phenomenon, and one that I feel is long overdue in our nation.

To make the added attention and suspense even more fulfilling, it has turned into one hell of a race. Not even a month into the primaries, we have seen surprise wins for up and coming Barack Obama and Baptist bass-playing Mike Huckabee. On both sides of the race the nomination is very much up for grabs, and I feel that Americans are for once realizing that it truly going to be up to them to decide the future of this nation. The distance politics has held itself from the public for so long is slowly shrinking, and it couldn’t have come at a more important time.

The Elephants

As far at the candidates go, I guess I’ll start with the Republicans. The bottom line is that in order to win the party is going to have to centralize and adopt positions that the public at large agrees with. It no longer seems that the conservatives are going to have the ability to dictate their voter base, but rather quite the opposite. This inability to compromise and evolve to the views of the American public at large have allowed the Republican party to establish power many would argue they do not deserve, but it will also be their downfall in 2008. When 70% of the people voting are against a war and you refuse to acknowledge and learn from their criticism, there is no way you can win an election. The Republicans are the definition of bull-headed, and I think their might has finally drifted too far right of right.

With that said, they still have a shot. In order to be able to compete at all in a general election between the immense popularity of either Obama or Hillary, the Republican candidate will have to capture a majority of independent voters. It is quite simply their only hope, and the only hopeful that could possibly pull off such an uncharacteristic feat is John McCain. Sure he’s older than Stonehenge and thinks the surge was the greatest military feat since the Spartans battled the Persian’s, but he’s a moderate. He has the ability to appeal to voters who believe in evolution and think that simulated drowning qualifies as cruel and unusual.

More important than McCain’s electibility is the unelectibility of his Republican opponents. I think it is fair to say that America has finally seen the through the illusion and mass manipulation of the politics of fear, yet Giuliani continues to attempt to scare voters into supporting him. Romney is basically Bush reincarnate, not realizing the fact that the billionaire son of a politician platform isn’t exactly one Americans are fond of at the moment. Not only that, but he comes across to be possibly the most arrogant human being I have ever witnessed. While debating McCain on immigration, he didn’t listen to or show any interest in what McCain was saying. He just sat there with this know-it-all smirk on his face before erupting into another one of his condescending tirades. I don’t know what exactly this nation needs in a new president, but it surely is not another pompous prick who completely lacks the ability to this to listen to and unite others. Fred Thompson does a great job at appealing to those who think Ronald Reagan is comparable to George Washington, but not much else. Huckabee, as sweet and genuine as he his, won as surprisingly in Iowa as he’s going to lose unsurprisingly in every other state.

There is a dark-horse Republican candidate who I personally find very appealing yet still has no chance to win the nomination; I speak of Ron Paul. Ron Paul is a true conservative. A true believer in small government (not a Republican who is against welfare but for a record-setting military budget). A true believer in our individual rights. Ron Paul is a Republican who is against the War in Iraq, against the IRS (like Huckabee he proposes a national sales tax, which in my opinion is brilliant) and against the Patriot Act’s blatant attack on our first amendment rights. He stands for what The Republican Party claims to stand for, points out the hypocrisy in all his colleagues, yet makes no impression on a manipulated conservative base.

The bottom line: If you really hate Hillary, you better vote McCain in the primaries.

The Donkeys

The mountainous momentum established by the three leading Democratic nominees can be attributed to three things: change, change, and more change. Simply saying the word is enough to gain support in this day an age. In fact, here is a good drinking game for your next viewing of a presidential debate (politics can be fun!): chug every time a Republican says terrorism and every time a Democrat says change. Why is a change-oriented platform having such a powerful effect on America? Its rather simple, people are pissed. People are tired of yet another war based on lies. They are tired of the executive branch disregarding the Constitution. They are tired of a president who they know they can’t trust. The Bush administration has completely destroyed whatever advantage the Republican party somehow previously had, and has allowed the Democratic candidates to use criticism as well as progression as their primary means of campaigning.

Unlike the open field of the Republican side, the Democratic nomination race has been narrowed down to three potential candidates—all of whom scare the shit out of the Republicans. We’ll start with John Edwards. With his southern draw and a lifetime of saving children from the evils of corporations, what’s not to love? While his heart is in the right place, I can’t help but see a bit of irony in a well-to-do lawyer preaching almost religiously on his devotion to the middle-class. He has his talking points, but what his words have in sincerity they often lack in depth. In every debate I have seen he establishes himself as a likeable guy, but fails to distinguish his platform’s policies from those of his other two competitors—the main reason Edwards will remain a petty third-place finisher.

The real race for the nomination, as we all know, is between the charm of Barack Obama and the experience of Hillary Clinton. Honestly, I like Obama. He’s young. He’s brilliant. He’s impossible to hate. I have read both of his books and really admire the life he has lived. After quitting a high-paying job in New York City he moved to Chicago and took a significant pay-cut so he could help others in a more fulfilling job with a church-based group in the inner city. Can you imagine Mitt Romney doing something like that? In addition to his benevolent personality Obama has one other characteristic that I feel is more important than any for the future of our nation; the ability to unite. He is always listening closely to what others are saying, even when he disagrees with them, and has shown in the Senate his capability to find a common ground between different perspectives. At a time when polarization has separated America from common goals, I see Obama has the most probable candidate to get us back on track.

But it won’t be easy. Hillary is the real deal. She knows politics better than anyone and has a record of experience that Obama can’t touch. Hillary is scary, confident, and extremely intelligent. One observation I made the other day was that Hillary thinks so fast that she has troubled talking fast enough to keep up with what she’s thinking, while Obama is the opposite; he talks slowly as though he is thinking carefully about every word he utters. Hillary has a detailed answer for everything, and it is obvious she knows what it’s like being in the White House better than any of the other candidates. With this said, people either love her or hate her, and I feel that the polarization created with Hillary in the white house will continue to lead this country down an unproductive legislative road. However, if she can find a way to unite those opposed to her, she surely has the ability to get things done.

The keystone to this accomplishment once again lies in Barack Obama. No matter who wins the Democratic nomination, the smartest thing Barack or Hillary could do is run together as a united force of change. The first woman. The first African-American. If these two profound candidates join together in 08’ with all the support they each have already gathered individually, the election will be a landslide in the Democrats favor. The only question now is whether they will put their party above themselves.

Bottom Line: If the Democrats find a way to fuck this one up…it will be impressive.

How I Spent My Winter Break

2008-01-05T16:42:00.000-05:00

http://www.purevolume.com/backyardthicket

Shoot Em Up, Two Dislocated Thumbs Up

2008-01-02T00:48:00.000-05:00

I just rented and viewed Shoot 'Em Up in a last minute attempt to escape an entire day of boredom. What I got was quite the contrary. Micheal Davis has created an adrenaline-packed masterpiece that met my expectations in the first five minutes and continued to blow my brain out the rest of the film. I expected a Tarentinoesque ultra-graphic flick full of pointless dialogue, but the film could easily be described as tasteful and well-developed. The action was blatantly over-the-top and the one-liners were all cliche, but the movie more than just a Pulp Fiction parody: it was thoroughly entertaining. The soundtrack was driving and original (minus the always-angry Ace of Spades), the acting was stellar (Clive Owens once again nails his forte as a nice guy with a gun), and the direction was expectedly as fast-paced as they come. Never before have a seen a film in which the antagonist's weapon of choice is a carrot, and never before have I been so impressed with a shoot 'em up film as I was with Shoot Em Up.

Into The Wild...Into The Film

2007-11-20T02:06:00.001-05:00

I just got in from seeing Into The Wild by myself in a theatre with 3 other people. It moved me in a way no film has before. It struck right to my core on so many levels so that I feel any explanation I try to offer here won't do it justice. Ironically the theme from my last post was evident throughout and I feel like a douche for virtually copying a subject Sean Penn has so totally nailed. Maybe its my age, or the period of life which I'm currently in. Maybe its my ignorant second-year college attitude of wonder and possibility, of quasi-intellectualism, of unbridled nostalgia that arises from laying awake at night reading Kerouac or Sallinger before turning out the light and resting for another day of effortless curriculum. Maybe its a life of caution and boredom that prevents me from taking any real risks or unplanned adventures. Not to say that I haven't taken risks and adventures, especially in the past year, but I'll be the first to acknowledge the thought and planning that went into them. Maybe its my fear of routine. Or maybe its the soundtrack and score done by the frontman of one of my top 5 favorite bands of all time. Maybe its seeing where my parents have succeeded, and where they have failed. Maybe its having lived a life of privlege that allows me to think and feel and dream about such things in uninhibited ways. Whatever it is...something between my brain and the film I just watched spawned an unmistakeable union that, at the risk of sounding melodramatic, made me a part of the film.

I'm gonna go to bed.

Aqueous Transmission

2007-11-14T00:02:00.001-05:00

I listened to this song about four times in a row for class, then wrote the following paragraphs. The purpose of the assignment was to pick a song from your past and use it as a catalyst for a piece of writing that captures the essence of the song. It's not the greatest thing I've ever done but please enjoy reading it while listening to the song in the background.

I’m floating down the river. Twigs beneath the flowing current rise as the ripples separate at their ends. My fingers grace the passing water and spirals emit from my fingertips. I glide so easily and yet without direction or control. My vessel pulls left like a grocery cart with a bum wheel. The leaves overhead are bright green and fat. Only small slithers of sun are able to burst through. Mossy rocks form a line up ahead and I slow my raft with my two hands.

I leave my raft and ascend a small hill with extra long blades of grass. Why strain from the course of my trip? Why interrupt what comes naturally? Soft, clear droplets bounce on my forehead from the branches above. They hit the ground in complete succession, and not rhythm, but, white noise soundtracks the landscape. The sky is drab and colorless. A cool wind sweeps across the meadow in which I stand. “Well, well, well, so I can die easy.”

The dark hairs on my forearms rigidly stand. up Tiny bumps run across my shoulders and up my neck. I squint as the flowing air pierces my pupils. I continue to move forward but am now trudging through green and brown mush. The wet mud drags down the bottoms of my jeans. I pull a hood over my head and my peripheral vision is lost. I start to panic. The rain is now heavier, harder, faster. I see a mountain-sized stream of electricity streak across the sky. The clouds are gone and the sky has turned a deep purple-y black.

I feel alone and so far from home. I haven’t seen anyone for the past six hours and I’m starting to realize that I need them to be happy. I unfold the crumpled piece of loose leaf from my pocket. The light blue ink-drawn map is smeared and illegible. Every tree is beginning to look the same. I start searching for thick forest, for proper shelter. The T.V. show back home makes it look so easy. It’s not. There aren’t roof-shaped branches and pre-woven bamboo tarps scattered throughout the brush. I’m on my own.

Thoughts Influenced By We Own the Night

2007-10-14T21:19:00.000-04:00

I need to rant. I need to type. I need to get shit off my mind. I am filled with an anger that for some reason has ballooned inside me to the point where I feel I have no escape but to burst. I just saw the new movie with Mark Walburg and that Phoenix dude who will always be Johnny Cash to me and got absolutely pissed by watching it. It wasn't that it was a bad movie; I thoroughly enjoyed the acting especially and thought the film was very well done (except the best climax came an hour into the film, and there was an hour left to watch). I got pissed because I went to the movie with my mother, and we came away with completely different interpretations of the movie. Without going into detail, she felt at the conclusion of the film a new hatred for the evils of drugdealers, while the film confirmed my belief that the war on drugs creates much more harm than good in any culture. What Phoenix and his entire family went through in the film was horrible to a degree that I could not even imagine (and I'm pretty good at relating to people), yet the blame is not to be placed entirely on the Russian mob.

The blame for a large amount of crime in America lies in the same people that pledge to end it. The legislators. The police departments. There is blood on their hands! As the war on terror is blatantly teaching America, you cannot wage a war on a common noun. You cannot stop terror, it is an inherent factor of any society that has ever been on Earth. You cannot stop drugs, it is an inherent market of any society ever created. You cannot stop actions that are inherent in human nature, you can only attempt to control them.

For the past 70 or so years our government has attempted to stop the flow of drugs into America, and the failure of its attempt is mindblowing. Crime has risen, drugs have become more dangerous, jails are overcrowded to the point of absurdity, and the lives of millions of police officers have been put in danger for a cause that is completely unworthy of such priority. Making drugs illegal does a couple things: It creates a black market completely void of regulation, it creates an opportunity for organized crime to control and profit off of this black market, and it puts otherwise law-abiding citizens in prison for actions that they have the constitutional right to partake in. America is founded on freedom! Telling me what I can and cannot put in my body is not freedom, it is hypocritical to the very morals our founding fathers fought so hard to preserve in our great country.

One of my mother's arguments to my reaction was a logically and well-founded, "People shouldn't do drugs! We have to at least attempt to stop people from doing drugs." The bottom line is this, PEOPLE LIKE DRUGS! Every person you know likes drugs. Every person in history likes drugs. Did you have a sip of coffee this morning? Take an Advil lately? Have a beer? The market for drugs is never going to disappear, and it will obviously never disappear through the use of force. This is not to say that the drug market cannot be controlled. Education is the key to control, not criminalization. I know that heroin is a dangerous drug that can easily ruin my life and health, I would never do heroin. The fact that is illegal doesn't change my mind. I'm not saying that by making drugs illegal the government doesn't control a percentage of the population into abstinence, but it will never control enough of the population to make the 7 billion dollars of taxpayers money the federal government alone spends on drugs each year worthwhile. In fact, there is proof it is doing quite the opposite. Though this argument is very general (due to the film dealing with hard drugs) my personal anger stems through the failed war on marijuana. A drug our government has claimed to control through law enforcement is easier for high school seniors to get than alcohol, according to a study by the same government that still stands by their current laws. Marijuana is the number one cash crop in our country, yet our police forces are still under the impression that they can remove the market. The market has grown, demand is at an all-time high. Any economist will tell you supply will match demand, especially when the profit outweighs the risks. By making marijuana illegal, the price for a pound of pot has ballooned to 2,000 to 4,000 dollars a pound! It is the literal economic value of gold. While this is not the government intention, it is the truth. It is the god damn truth. And if a disturbed twenty year old kid like me can realize it, then there is no excuse that the rest of America can't.

With all of this said, there is a simple and proven solution to the problem. It would get drugs out of the hands of children. It would disintegrate organized crime networks. It would empty our prisons of citizens that want to contribute and be productive members of society. It would make our government billions of dollars. Anyone who would not support a plan with these kind of guaranteed results has to be insane. Or am I the crazy one? The solution I speak of is regulation. That’s it. Regulation. Treat drugs in America like any other legitimate business that provides a good that consumers demand. It's simple. My mother would say, "But drugs are bad for you!" She's right, which makes my proposal even more logical. Even though some drugs have been proven to be of medical value and much less dangerous than force-fed government propaganda would have you believe (marijuana), lets say that drugs are as bad and evil and dangerous and destructive as could possibly be. Well, before we do that, we have to come to the logical conclusion that no drug is without some sort of benefit to the consumer. If smallpox strains were available at 7/11 for personal consumption, noone would buy them. Noone wants to buy something that has no positive value to them. Because it is obvious that people DO want the available drugs on the black market, we can automatically conclude that there is a positive value lying somewhere in the midst of its dangers. No drug is without side-effects. No over-the-counter drug comes without warnings on its label. It's through this analysis that we allow consumers to assess the risks and rewards of the product and make a personal decision as to whether they want to buy it. Cigarettes are a perfect example. Some people think cigarettes are too dangerous to use, others feel the benefits outweigh the risks. My entire point is this; It is not the job of the government to make these decisions, but rather to provide the necessary information so that consumers can make an educated decision themselves. This is only achieved through regulation. What is the most amazing part about this whole argument is that it proves to do exactly what those against it fight for. Since cigarettes have been regulated and the public has been thoroughly educated on there dangers, and tobacco use in America has plummeted. In simpler terms, drug use went down due to regulation and education. Its common sense! Its simple. Its logical. If the government tried to make cigarettes illegal because of there dangers, I am a firm believer that usage would go up, and the dangers of using them would also rise. This phenomenon has also been proven during Prohibition. There was no doubt alcohol was creating a problem in America, but rather than passing stricter regulations and educating the American public the government decided to make alcohol illegal. The results were disasterous. While the campaign had immediate success, the laws of economics and crime soon set in. Organized crime expanded to a level America had never seen due to the newly created black market, potency went up because profit prevailed over consumer safety, and usage soon rose to a level never before seen, even prior to prohibition. These are the lessons of history, and any political scientist is a firm believer that history matters. Why our leaders and citizens today fail to assess and learn from the past is one phenomenon that I haven't figured out, and one that has instilled an anger in me that will not easily die.

The government will never remove the risk or market for drugs; it can only limit the risks and educate the markets.

I Can Hear The Ice Machine Crackle

2007-10-10T18:57:00.000-04:00

He just sat there. Writing and writing and writing and writing. He couldn't stop. That's not to say he didn't want to. He didn't necessarily want to continue, either. It just happened.

He has no motivation, no subject, no plot, no characters. It was a story that wasn't going anywhere. He was sitting on the living room couch, half a glass of iced-tea deep. It didn't have a purpose. Nothing really had much purpose. His day-to-day actions affected no one but himself. Only himself.

I paid them about 6 bucks today. How much did you pay?

Arms and My Feet...Feet My and Arms

2007-10-08T00:32:00.000-04:00

so i'm sitting here in the new apartment with the other author of this blog and we're watching a keller williams dvd and we feel like complete douchebags for going so long without a post. and i don't know why we feel that way, because I know for a fact that we dont have any readers. so why do we feel bad? the question remains unanswered.

its a shame too because we both have been writing a lot since we got back to school. hopefully this will be the start of a more dedicated writing contribution. because hey, we have a lot to say.

i wrote this last week while killing time between classes at mackinnons. i couldnt think of anything to write so i decided to closely watch a girl at a far table. i began writing in a stream-of-consciousness form and my own writer's block seemed to make its way in

The white smoke rises from her pinched cigarette
It's a steam engine that's driving her
creativity, her ingenuity, her ability,
The coffee remains unsipped
Cruel irony blows the excess smoke
back into her face
She has yet to scrawl a word on the page
With each doubt of confidence the drags
increase
Staring into a brick wall corner as if
inspiration will suddenly appear
Does it?
She takes her time to crush the butt
into the ground. The last thing she needs
is the place to go up in flames
and have it be her fault
She slumps back in her chair, inspiration
lost.
Change position of your legs. Nothing will help. Nothing will bring back that magical ability to put words together in your head and have them scribble out of your wrist through jagged motions of a pen thats running out of ink.

Until next time, back to keller.

Are You Eclectic?: The Writings of a Bored College Kid With Nothing To Do At 2 AM

2007-08-17T02:52:00.000-04:00

Eclectic. I don't know what that word means exactly but I know people use it to describe anyone who seems to have a genuine personality and enjoys at least one activity that your average Joe would rarely partake in. Lets see what the real word-deciders have to say.

I fully support Dictionary.com and its kickass counterpart Theusaraus.reference.com.

ec·lec·tic - Show Spelled Pronunciation[i-klek-tik] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation
–adjective
1.
selecting or choosing from various sources.

2.
made up of what is selected from different sources.

3.
not following any one system, as of philosophy, medicine, etc., but selecting and using what are considered the best elements of all systems.

4.
noting or pertaining to works of architecture, decoration, landscaping, etc., produced by a certain person or during a certain period, that derive from a wide range of historic styles, the style in each instance often being chosen for its fancied appropriateness to local tradition, local geography, the purpose to be served, or the cultural background of the client.

I indeed do choose from various sources. I enjoy Nas's Illmatic, yet I know almost every Jack Johnson lyric by heart.

This one is interesting. I am made up of my views and opinions and experiences that come from many different sources. I think this one applies to every human being in existence that hasn't been locked in the closet since birth.

I follow many philosophies. The moral teachings of Jesus Christ. The spiritual freedom of Native American belief systems. The compassion of Karl Marx. The realizations of Adam Smith. It makes perfect sense to me to consider the best elements of all systems. No system has ever been perfect. Christianity was established under a well-intended and brilliant foundation (I heart Jesus.), until it turned into a murderous pile of greed and corruption and hypocrisy and destruction. One pompous Pope ordered millions to their death in the name of the God Jesus spoke off. More people have died in the name of religion than any other motive in History, yet I'm supposed to believe Christianity is the only road out of all the shit the world is now in? I don't think so. Religion divides us from what is essentially ourselves. We are a species of logic and understanding and learning, and more than anything observation. If you find a religion to be fulfilling and believe it with your heart to be true I commend you, but only if your values and morality are as strong as your faith. I find much more hope in a person who does not draw such desperate conclusions, however. An example: evolution. When your faith-based belief system forces you to adamantly disagree with truths and evidence supported by all laws of scientific knowledge given to humankind by the God who created everything (including fossils), you lose both my trust and respect. A theory is only a theory until proven true. If the poster of Hendrix in front of me suddenly popped to life, Jimi walked over to me and recalled every act I have ever committed since birth, then said he is the creator of the universe: I might believe in God. Until that happens I will be a respectful skeptic who puts the code of ethics he knows ahead of the meaning of life he surely doesn't.

Well folks,
I am surely not a fancy work of architecture that doesn't fit in.
So I guess all this little activity has taught me…

I am not eclectic.

Priorities

2007-08-16T22:24:00.001-04:00

It amazes me the mountainous amount of people
that so willingly
give up three hours of their time
to watch a meaningless football game on TV

when compared to the minuscule amount of people
that so willingly
refuse to give up ten minutes of their time
to cast a meaningless vote on Election Day.

The Art of Eating

2007-08-16T21:41:00.000-04:00

It pains me to know that somewhere
There is someone
That for some reason
Published a book called The Art of Eating.

Delicately deciding for all the correct way to eat.
Etiquette.
This fork goes here and is used exclusively for this dish.
But never that dish.
God watches over you.
Your elbows go this way;
Your napkin right here.

Only those lacking a God and respect
And money
Would not purchase this book.

Eat the ribs of another slaughtered mammal
The way the real God meant for us
to consume of them.
Cuisine is not classy
Entrees should not be orderly.
Five human fingers can do more
than a fleet of forks.

Dig in.

A Maze of a Movie that Amazed

2007-07-20T00:14:00.000-04:00

Prior to my veiwing of Guillermo de Toro's Pan's Labyrinth (In reality whatever the hell that is in Spanish), my interest and expectations were both equally low. A few people had told me it was a good film, but I couldn't find in myself how a fantasy movie about fairies subtitled in Spanish would appeal to me. My doubts were answered by a visual and emotional experience that left me both amazed and deeply satified.

The film is anything but the cheesy fantasy work I was expecting. Rather, de Toro brilliantly uses two contrasting plotlines to portray two entirely different worlds. The film is really two films spliced together, the first being the reality of the main character Ofelia's family life. Her mother is pregnant and she has been forced to move into a secure base to be with her Hitleresque father as his fascist regime attempts to fight off opposing Communists during the Spanish Civil War of the 1940's. Throughout the film, Ofelia's father (played unbelievably by Sergi Lopez) brutally murders and tortures just about anyone who shows resistance towards him or his beliefs and continually treats his family with little to no respect. This side of the film powerfully connects the viewer to the real horrors Ofelia has to deal with on a daily basis, and superbly compliments the second plot interwoven within the picture.

The surreal side of the film is a wild Fairy Tale story that Ofelia is thrown into through the direction of an aging monster fawn (yep.). It is a refuge for the girl, and dreams of being a long lost Princess pursuing three magical tasks to win back the love of her immortal parents is used by both Ofelia and the filmmakers to turn attention from a dismal world of corruption and war to a fantastic place of hope and wonder. Never before have I seen a film take two styles so different and blend them to form a product that truly transcends the greatness of each individual ingredient. In this case, the whole is hands down greater than the sum of its parts.

In addition to the cross-referencing storylines that make Pan's Labyrinth so unique, the visual effects and presentation of the film add to its beauty. It is a dark picture, but the use of bright lighting in a few crucial scenes seems to take the viewer and uplift them out of the grim reality presented in the majority of the film. The creatures Ofelia encounters are memorable and visually intriguing, often costumed to near perfection. The special effects are equally satisfying, notably the computer-generated fairies flying around throughout. For a film that clashes realistic visual battle scenes with a magical world of bizarre beings, the presentation is amazingly suitable.

Without giving out any spoilers, I will stop by simply advocating the film if you have yet to see it. Behind City of God and the adrenaline-filled Apacolypto, this film lies third in my list of "Top Movies I Am Forced To Read", and has made a place for itself in the cinema of storytelling. Pan's Labyrinth has the power of Shindler's List, the originality of Big Fish, and the magic of Harry Potter. It is not a movie of childish tall tales, but a deep portrayal of the dark side of humanity and a little girl's vision to escape it.

*****

The White Rapper Show

2007-07-12T23:14:00.000-04:00

EtanBball12: yo...
EtanBball12: yo yo
EtanBball12: i'm badass like mel gibson in his early days
EtanBball12: befo he was the leader of the jesus craze
EtanBball12: put you in a daze
EtanBball12: like after a hit a haze
EtanBball12: my words amaze
EtanBball12: for days?
Hendricks885: you picked an easy ending
Hendricks885: during winter i sled on lunch trays
Hendricks885: its like im stuck in a corn maze
Hendricks885: where to turn? so many ways
Hendricks885: fuck ruffles, fuck fritos, just give me lays
EtanBball12: you can eat yo lays...i'll just go get laid
EtanBball12: get paid
EtanBball12: get up to artsfest and watch the parade
Hendricks885: give me your slaves for molasses, this is the triangular trade!
Hendricks885: spit me some game
Hendricks885: ill spit it back in flames like the chicago fire brought fame
EtanBball12: you shit is lame
EtanBball12: but i won't complain
EtanBball12: cause i come off the top of my brian
EtanBball12: with lyrics insane
EtanBball12: i don't blame yo weak ass for trying
EtanBball12: but you gotta stop liein to yo self, just stop tryin
Hendricks885: tap another fuckin keg, i bust on her leg. my chronic is bubonic like the mah'fuckin PLAGUE
EtanBball12: bust on her legs...I aim right between the eyes
EtanBball12: and don't tell when it times
EtanBball12: like she is getting a surprise
Hendricks885: bust in her eye? no way i make full contact. and then we get it locked down just like the MAYFLOWER COMAPCT
Hendricks885: *PACT
EtanBball12: you win.

Untitled Observations

2007-07-12T00:11:00.001-04:00

-Is it now a requirement that late night NBC TV hosts sport completely absurd hairstyles? Conan has always looked like a giant Irish douche, but I've noticed recently that his infamous parted hair now rises at least 12 inches above his head. And Jay Leno, can a man of his fame and wealth not invest in some Just For Men? What is a mostly white with a little black in front? The majority of PGA events; and Leno's aging mane.

-For reasons unbeknownst to me, I found myself watching Stomp the Yard the other night (never let a dancer of a date choose the movie for the night). Since I didn't have the option to immediately remove the movie from my DVD player as soon as I realized the opening scene was a gang-related dance off, I decided instead to tolerate and laugh at the film for what it was; horrible. As I hinted, the opening scene involves two rival gangs lined up across from each other. Knuckles are cracked. Cold stares all around. The scene is filled with an eager sense of anticipation. It was as this point a boombox started "bumping" shitty hip-hop beats, and the previously terrifying groups of ghetto men lay down their guns and bust a move! And if the fact that grown men are attempting to prove their dominance over a rival by dancing doesn't bring out the realism in the film for you, there is a little midget walking through the crowd taking bets on who will win the dance-off. Two key points here: 1) midgets are awesome, 2) who in their right mind would put a bet down on a dance-off which is questionably decided only by lame audience reaction? For a film that was marketed as a drama/romance aiming to show the realities of the urban dance culture(?), it almost immediately presented itself as one of the tackiest and utterly aweful pieces of cinema I have ever seen. And I only saw the first fifteen minutes of it! After I realized I would rather watch The O'Reilly Factor then finish that lame-ass movie, I told my date to fuck off and put in Honey. I figured if I was going to be forced to watch a poorly-made movie about dancing, I should at least stare at Jessica Alba's body while doing it.

- People are always complaining about degrading rap lyrics. Bitches. Hoes. Pussy. Who dare refer to women with such a lack of respect? How about WOMEN! I was listening to a D12 song the other day, "Pimp Like Me". I found the entire song to be hilarious, but my laughter reached a new plateau when the chorus arrived. It involves Eminem dominately stating "You just a..." and "Your just my...", each followed by a female backing vocal proudly singing "HOOOEEE!" How low does your self-esteem have to be to be that female vocalist? Or how much does Eminem pay?

-How exactly can a pro-lifer support the death penalty?

Until next time,

Nate

Rage On Murderdelphia

2007-07-11T12:46:00.000-04:00

So I'm spending most of my summer interning at Philadelphia Weekly (You know, that 100+ page behemoth in the yellow box next to the Inquirer and Daily News). It's a free publication, and thrives under the freedom of Alternative Press. By that I mean it can freely inject opinion, (usually lefty) into its articles. Does this compromise the paper's credibility? Not in the least.

Here's an article that jumped out at me this week. It's about the mayor's embarassing behavior and leadership in a city that's resembling the anonymous shithole in Police Academy 2 (Where are you when we need you, Mahoney?)

http://www.philadelphiaweekly.com/articles/15017

I can't wait to get back to State College.

Thoughts Influenced by The Assault on Reason

2007-07-08T14:52:00.000-04:00

Since my partner in crime has brought up the subject of Al Gore, I guess I will stick to the theme. I recently finished his new book The Assault on Reason and found it to be an inspiring read that has personally rung very true to me. The current administrations complete and intentional manipulation of the American public is not only startling, but very scary. Citizens in America these days don't have the opportunity to find out the truth, and the truth they are told is often simply a lie. It amazes me that the document President Bush used to show proof of Iraq purchasing materials for WMD's and launching us into a 600 billion dollar war was proven to be a forgery, and no one did anything about it. The document wasn't just unreliable, it was forged! If I were to lie to the police department about a detail pertaining to something as safe as say, marijuana, I could be charged with obstruction of justice and sent to jail. When the president lies to the entire nation in hopes of manufacturing support for a war, no charges are pressed. The true criminals in our culture lie in the highest ranks of society.

Especially in regards to the Bush administration, policy is influenced not by public good but rather by money. Corrupt corporations and an elite group of millionaire friends seem to have more influence on our president then the millions of middle-class Americans that make up the majority of the population. I think this is essentially human nature, but it is also something that our democracy is supposed to rise above.

There are two statistics in my head that I think bring home the point of how the few rich are beginning to create a lob-sided nation. The first is the amount of money the average American CEO makes in comparison to his lowest paid worker. Currently, the American CEO is bringing in 411 times the income of his blue collar counterparts. How is this not frowned upon or at least investigated in our country? Because America is the Father of Capitalism? I think that argument is bullshit. You can be a successful entrepreneur, follow all the laws of economics, and still pay your employees a decent salary (If Ben And Jerry's could do it, anyone could do it!). In addition, you can make sure you redistribute profits when your company prospers, rather than keeping a disproportionate piece of the pie that was created by the group as a whole to yourself. Greed is an inherent human quality, but I think rationale is equally and can be overridingly inherent. This is evident in European cultures, where the average CEO makes no more than 15 times that of his lowest paid employee. I am a firm believer in the free-market, and also believe government regulation should be used only when absolutely necessary. The root of this specific issue is not necessarily where our government has gone wrong, but rather the unethical and obviously greedy actions that the rich of our country are taking. This is a personal, moral issue that will not be solved by governmental action, but only through a transformation of the values we and the rich as individuals choose to live by. I find it very disturbing that profits produced through the private sector are not being distributed in a manner that is both logical and fair in our nation.

It is common knowledge that the longer a society can maintain the balance between the rich and poor, the longer it will survive. America is falling away from this principle at an alarming rate. As wealth and corruption grow in the top piers of our society, and they have, the lower class that is being left behind is much more motivated to turn to a world of crime itself. I believe that the more crime caused by the upper class creates not only a larger lower class, but more crime within this class. The only way to balance this equation is to shrink the difference between the haves and the have nots. I believe that if America were to wake up, rid itself of the corruption taking place in its highest levels of government, do what is right for the public good, and allow for a free flow of public discourse unregulated by the opinions and manipulative strategies of the federal government, America would find itself a much safer place.

Oh yea, and Al Gore's son smokes marijuana. What a horrible father. Maybe he should stop trying to save the world and save his son from the evils of the Devil's Weed.

Until next time,

Nate

Dead Earth

2007-07-08T13:45:00.002-04:00

I spent the majority of yesterday slumped to my couch watching Live Earth. For starters, I feel that this event (or movement i guess) highly outweighs Live 8 in cultural significance because it's an issue that affects us. With that said, how did it manage to slip by seemingly unnoticed?

Two summers ago I stood among an estimated one million on Ben Franklin parkway at Live 8 Philadelphia. This event was hyped beyond belief, and when it arrived, people paused to take notice. It was broadcast all day on countless channels, most notably MTV and VH1. It reunited Pink Fucking Floyd for christsake.

So why did its spin-off cousin come and go without the masses even batting an eye? Why did it only air on Bravo and CNBC? Why was the artist line-up good, but not great (save Crowded House and Duran Duran)? I mean...it was pretty much a rebroadcast of the '07 Grammys.

I'm a pretty big flaming liberal, but I'll be the first to admit that Al Gore was quite stale during his tenure as Vice President. But after seeing that movie everyone tells you to see (including me), its clear that he has stepped up his game.

So where am I going with this? I don't really know. I think the increasingly hefty man who once embarassed himself by demanding a recount is right. And I think he's committed.

Meanwhile I drive a small SUV. But I'm using those goddamn twisty lightbulbs!

The Beginning of the Never-Ending

2007-07-08T01:25:00.000-04:00

Aloha,

My names Nate and it appears that me and my buddy John have started a blog. As posted below, we came to this conclusion almost simultaneously while rambling on AIM. I guess its only right to tell a little about myself before I bombard all you random bloggers with my biased bullshit.

I am a very outgoing and open-minded individual who attempts to look at all issues with an inner sense of skeptisism. I am a political science major and I feel our country has a long way to go to uphold the original intent of our founding fathers. I hold strong beliefs against the war on drugs, specifically the illegality of marijuana (seriously, even the Judge of the DEA claimed it to be, "the safest theraputically active substance known to man"). I am against the welfare state. I believe in global warming. I am against affirmative action. I don't really give a shit about abortion cause I'm not going to have a kid. I am against the war in Iraq. I am against the Patriot Act. But enough about politics....

I enjoy writing poetry. I enjoy movies. I enjoy music. I am a self-taught drummer who is very influenced by funk/jam genres in his playing (rock on Herbie Hancock). I am also an avid listener of hip-hop music, and even try to write rhymes every now and then (even suburban white boys can be wordsmiths, yo). I can kick your ass in ping pong and am a very solid tennis player. For a 5'11 white kid who can't jump, I can also ball. None of this really relates to anything I'm going to write about on this blog, but rambling is what I do.

I intend on using this blog to influence, experiment, and review. What I contribute will be a combination of poetry, rants, letters, music/movie reviews, and humorous posts about my experiences. With that said, I will starts things off with a few poems I have recorded in the past few weeks....

Society.

The valley prospers with pride
Smiling into the sunlit sky
Playing like thieves in riches and greed
Blind to the depths of the diverse world
Breeding the demise spewing below

The core is burning with truths
Buried in the undetectable ground
Struggling like flies stripped of their wings
Living for the laughter of the privileged world
Churning with the power of revenge

The mountain rises with intent
Looming over the prosperous valley
Preparing like a soldier destined for death
Revolution designed for the corrupt world
Waiting centuries for the chance

The day passes with routine
Monotony content for the time being
Peaceful like the eye of an oncoming hurricane
Oblivious of the soon to be uprooted world
Honoring tradition for the last time

The eruption flashes with poverty
Injustice avenged in the flowing magma
Spreading like a swarm of deprived ants
Rearranging, molding the overtaken world
Striving for what it never possessed

The beginning of the never-ending
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Ensuing Conversation When I Told My Mother I Was Reading Hunter S. Thompson

"It seems like you're consumed
with things and people that aren't good for you."

"What is good for me, Mom?"

"You know what I mean.
Why do you like to read about people like that?"

"I'm interested in people who live
their lives differently than
the majority of normal people."

"But we live in a world full of normal people."

"…Exactly why I don't find them interesting."
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Until next time,

Nate

am i coming or going? i can barely decide

2007-07-08T00:53:00.000-04:00

Hendricks885 (12:11:07 AM): yo what if we started a joint blog
EtanBball12 (12:11:08 AM): lets start a blog together