Republican Candidates, 2008!

Definitely Running, Yes:

Sam Brownback, Senator from Kansas. Supports Congressional term limits; calls the number of abortions since Roe v. Wade "a holocaust"; supports a Constitutional amendment outlawing gay marriage AND civil unions; supports "teaching the controversy" surrounding intelligent design in public school science classes. Notable quote: "No raise money, no get bonus."

I don't eat Domino's Pizza because the founder, Tom Monaghan, is a creepy pro-lifer who builds religious towns - so I'm sure not going to vote for the guy he wants to see elected President.

John Cox, businessman and radio host. Website touts him as the candidate "you've probably never heard of"; unsuccessfully ran for state office in Illinois in 2000 and 2002, not making it past the Republican primaries, and also lost in 2004 in the race for Cook County Recorder of Deeds; is basically just a rich dude from Illinois who visits Iowa a lot. Notable quote: "We must wing the war in Iraq and elsewhere so we are fighting terror over there, not over here." I'm not entirely sure what that means, but it's on his official website.

He's like a cliche of a conservative Republican ... I guess he's running so people will look at him for five minutes.

Jim Gilmore, former Governor of Virginia. He's a tough crime-buster! He hates terrorism! He likes guns! Um, he's another Republican candidate. Notable quote: "Jim Gilmore is a leader."

Jim Gilmore is totally vague about everything. Jim Gilmore put his hand on the Bible when he swore the Oath of Office.

Rudy Giuliani, former Mayor of New York City. He'll be tough like your dad on terror; doesn't absolutely hate people; one of like two pro-choice Republicans I know; vindictive and jealous; hates ferrets and free speech; is a knight. Notable quote: "Mayor Giuliani will do everything possible to cleanse this city of this falsified non-fat yogurt."

I don't really understand the people who think Giuliani won't win the Republican nomination because of his stance on social issues - despite the fact that George W. Bush SOUNDS like an idiot, have we all forgotten that the Republicans are really, really smart? America is pretty tired of Bush's particular brand of right-wing conservatism and Iraq-fighting - making Giuliani the perfect candidate for the Republicans. He's not creepily religious, but he's still got the tough-dad thing going on. Plenty of New Yorkers thought he was the devil incarnate by September 10, 2001, but the rest of the country still sees him as "America's Mayor." He hates homeless people, supports police brutality, and sees it as his job to shut down art and artists he doesn't agree with. He'll rope-a-dope Hillary if he squares off with her in a general election, and he'd out-Bush Bush on civil liberties as President. Hell, he'll out-Ashcroft Ashcroft. Not because of the Bible - but because Giuliani Thinks He's Right. Beware - beware! - Rudy Giuliani!

Mike Huckabee, former Governor of Arkansas. Lost 110 lbs. (!) after being diagnosed with diabetes; believes in creationism; named one of Time's five best governors in 2005. Notable quote: "I liked gravy poured on top of a big glob of mashed potatoes, I liked biscuits a lot."

Mike Huckabee, the rational choice! If Giuliani or Zombie McCain do anything particular crazy between now and the primaries (which is really, really likely), Huckabee might be the guy who steps in to say, "Well, at least I'm not crazy." He's a Republican candidate in the mold of easily defeated Democratic candidates.

Duncan Hunter, Representative from California (San Diego). Led the building of a 14-mile fence separating San Diego Country and Tijuana, Mexico, and subsequently supported a reinforced force along the entire US/Mexican border; supports sending more troops to Iraq. Notable quote: "This century is going to be a very dangerous century."

The latest in a long line of Republicans legislating hate and fear!

John McCain, Senator from Arizona. Creepier than ever, in a zombie kind of way; totally, totally, totally old; less "maverick" and more "I'll say anything you want if you will vote for me." Notable quote: "Why is Chelsea Clinton so ugly? Because her father is Janet Reno." This is really a thing that he said.

McCain is old. He is old, and he is desperate to be your friend. He's the political equivalent of your grandpa, desperate for you stay at the nursing home just a little longer. He was kind of neat, as far as Republicans go, eight years ago - now he's just evil, and sad. And not in that order.

Ron Paul, Representative from Texas. Website is, actually, "ronpaulexplore.com" - very utilitarian, very "I've never heard of the internet; a non-interventionist, opposed to the Iraq War; a lifetime member of the Libertarian Party. Notable quote: "It's still fashionable to dislike McDonald's."

The dude's a Libertarian. He's pro-life, but doesn't support federal laws banning abortion - he supports legalization of medical marijuana - he's a small government guy in a big government party.

Mitt Romney, former Governor of Massachusetts. Looks like an actor playing the President on TV; believes in magic underwear; in favor of stem-cell research; believes life begins during humping. Notable quote: "The buck stops all the way up the chain."

I dunno ... he's a careful guy. He's very aware of his public image the potential hurdles of running for President as a Mormon. He's another one who has the opportunity to step into the breach if the front-runners do anything wacky. Then again, something like a particularly clever debate performance could put him over someone like Giuliani, who would be more likely to say something sloppy and off the cuff than Romney would. Romney strikes me like Hillary in that way - he's more careful than he is passionate.

Tom Tancredo, Representative from Colorado. Against abortion under any circumstances; delivered a banner and cards from Columbine students to children in Beslan, Russia after the Beslan school hostage crisis; supports current immigration laws and opposes Bush's proposed reforms; Karl Rove once yelled at him and called him a "traitor to the party." Notable quote: "I certainly understand and appreciate your need and desire to try and create the illusion of Miami as a multiethnic 'All American' city."

"Wait Wait Don't Tell Me" declared him as the "Hopeless Republican Candidate," as the counterpart to Kucinich as the "Hopeless Democratic Candidate." And after filling out this entry, all I can tell you is ... that says a lot.

Tommy Thompson, former Governor of Wisconsin. Supports the creation of three distinct Iraqi states; Elizabeth Dole likes him; um, that's roughly it. Notable quote: "For the life of me, I cannot understand why the terrorists have not attacked our food supply because it is so easy to do."

Ummm. I guess he has money to burn? Or maybe he's angling for a VP or cabinet nomination.

Definitely Maybe Running:

Newt Gingrich, former Representative from Georgia. Not-so-quietly waiting to make a late splash, and/or run as a third-party candidate; totally made a Contract with America; resigned from Congress on account of being a dick. Notable quote: "The idea that a congressman would be tainted by accepting money from private industry or private sources is essentially a socialist argument." Alternate quote: "Mr. President, we are going to run you out of town."

In my fondest dreams, Newt will be the great spoiler of 2008 - siphoning off conservative votes from the Republican candidate as he runs as a third-party candidate. In the real world, I think he'll announce in the summer as a Republican candidate, or early next year as a third-party candidate, and no one will really notice.

Update to the Update

I found a better Vil-sad picture:



"I guess I'll go eat worms."

Democratic Pillow Fight - update!

"It is money and only money that is the reason we are leaving today," said Tom Vilsack, wrapping up his campaign for President.

"I came up against something for the first time in my life that hard work and effort couldn't overcome. I just couldn't work any harder, couldn't give it enough."

Vilsack was the first Democrat to declare, in November 2006. Obama, meanwhile, spent the weekend diving in a pile of gold coins, a la Scrooge McDuck, while Hilary Clinton tried to scheme a way to get her hands on the treasure.




Tom Vilsack, 2006-2007

My Favorite TV Show is Back on the Air

Democratic Candidates, For Sure:

Joe Biden, Senator from Delaware. Co-sponsored the Biden-Roth-Cohen Flag Protection Act, which sought to make mutilation, defecation, or burning of the United States flag punishable by up to one year in prison, and/or a $1000 fine. Notable quote (besides that stuff about Obama everyone has already heard) : "In Delaware, the largest growth in population is Indian Americans - moving from India. You cannot go to a 7-11 or a Dunkin' Donuts unless you have a slight Indian accent. I'm not joking." This was on CSPAN.

He strikes me as a classic Democratic party presidential candidate ... and I mean that in a bad way, you know?

Hillary Rodham Clinton, Senator from New York. Calls her video broadcasts "HillCasts;" had a recent freak out over David Geffen talkin' smack about her and Bill. Notable quote: "Young people today think work is a four-letter-word."

Hillary's probably my #2 these days ... my biggest fear is that in a contest against Giuliani, she'd lose her cool and America would vote for it's #1 Tuff Enuff Dad instead.

Chris Dodd, Senator from Connecticut. Hired John Kerry's former presidential campaign manager; met with Venezuelan President Hugo Chavez in 2005 "to mend the strained relations between the two countries;" the fine collective of Wikipedia says he is "left of center with respect to Latin America." Notable quote: "I don't care what the public wants, I'm going to give it what it needs!"

I get the feeling that Chris Dodd would make an excellent cabinet member.

John Edwards, Director of the Center on Poverty, Work and Opportunity at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill School of Law; former Senator from North Carolina. Has been effectively campaigning for President ever since John Kerry conceded in 2004; will smile and say whatever he reckons you wanna hear. Notable quote: "If we can do the work that we can do in this country ... people like Christopher Reeve are going to walk again. Get up out of that wheelchair and walk again." As cool as that may sound at first - Christopher Reeve was still alive when he said it. So, no, Edwards is not the Zombie Choice in '08.

John Edward is like the creepiest candidate on any ticket right now - he's been running for President even before he ran for Senate, and everything he's ever done has been to angle himself for that office. If I thought he wanted to be President to help people - and not simply because he wanted to be President - that might be impressive. As it is, he's like the American Tony Blair - all smiles, oozing honey and dandelions from his lips.

Mike Gravel, Professional lecturer; former Senator from Alaska. Helped make the Pentagon Papers public, secret government documents relating to the Vietnam War; single-handedly filibustered 1971 legislation that sought to renew the draft. Notable quote: "Our three branches of government have become like an unstable chair, a three-legged chair." I tried to find something silly, but this is the best I could do.

It's pretty clear he's running an issue-campaign - there are things he wants us to talk about, and he wants to enter them into the national conversation by running for President. He's an advocate of direct democracy - that idea that, you know, all citizens should participate in laws and legislation. I didn't know much about Mike Gravel before this campaign cycle, so mission accomplished in some regard ... he's a sqhttp://www2.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifuare-one dude, an alright guy. I hope he gets the chance to speak before the other candidates drown him out.

Dennis Kucinich, Representative from Ohio. Ralph Nader likes him; wants total military withdrawal from Iraq, immediately; is totally vegan; has pictures of his totally hot wife on his website. Notable quote: "I'm not selling insurance."

He's a nice guy. A really nice guy.

Barack Obama, Senator from Illinois. Get out of Iraq, we want Barack; a pragmatic moderate who, I honestly believe this, has the Right Idea; is a black dude. Notable quote: "I'm making Paris Hilton look like a recluse."

Newt Gingrich (!) said this about Obama: "Lincoln served two years in the US House, and he seemed to do all right." I think "inexperience" is a non-issue - getting practice in as a federal legislator doesn't necessarily make one a good leader, you know? It tends to make one a good bullshitter. I think Obama's honest and smart and patriotic, and daaaamn, I think that's a pretty good resume.

There are honest to goodness a whole lot of left-leaning voters who don't support Obama right now, not because he's black - but because they think *other* voters won't support him because he's black. Which is ... I dunno, passive-aggressively racist? Obama is the DEAN of 2008 - and I mean that in a good way, y'all.

Bill Richardson, Governor of New Mexico. Still exploring - hasn't officially declared; hasn't done a whole lot of covert campaigning, besides just being Bill Richardson. Notable quote: "Some days I'm solar powered. Some days I'm wind powered. And some people in this room might think I'm hybrid gas-powered."

I dunno what to make about Richardson - most of what I know about him is that both Gore and Kerry thought about him as a vice-presidential candidate. If he would, you know ... declare, or state a position or two ... I'd get a better idea about him.

Tom Vilsack, former Governor of Iowa. Wants a measured withdrawal from Iraq, leaving US troops in the north for awhile; wants to limit US carbon output; *really* wants you to realize he's running for President. Notable quote: "I'm not a rock star, but I'm rock solid."

Ehh. It's like someone's uncle running for office - yeah, they seem nice, but what makes him stand out?

Democratic Candidates, For Maybe:

Wesley Clark, retired four-star general. His own self figures he'll be the national security candidate; people love him for reasons still unclear. Notable quote: "I didn't go to Yale."

He's tough! But he's a Democrat! Wes Clark is like Thai food to me ... a lot of clever people in my life like him, but I can't quite get into it. I bet he'd make a killa-dilla VP candidate.

Al Gore, former Vice-President, current total smart dude. He's not running, folks. I believe this in my bones. Notable quote: "I don't see any circumstances under which I would run for president."

I love Al Gore. I voted for Al Gore. I would vote for Al Gore again. But, here's the thing - Al Gore doesn't want me to. You can just tell, you know? He grew a beard, he got mad for awhile, he got over it. The best we can do is follow his lead.

Next time: Republicans!

The Devil in Shaun's Woods

Here's a thing that happened to me once:

"Every weekend until the winter came we went to Shaun's house on Saturday nights. We stayed all night and crept down to the woods after dark. The Man would be there in the trees, or sometimes he'd already be in the yard crawling behind us. He was always lower than us to the ground, quieter and better hid. Close to Halloween he wore a white skull mask instead of the red devil, and that was the night Milford had had enough and took his gun outside, a pistol. He told the rest of us to stay inside and we crowded around a small living room window, watching outside as Milford appeared in the dark, holding his gun out in front of him, walking slow and looking from side to side. Ten feet behind him crept the Man in the Woods, wearing his white skull mask, exaggerating his steps, knees up high, arms held out before him like Dracula. We yelled from the window for Milford to turn around. Milford didn't respond or react, but the Man in the Woods stopped his creep, turned his head to face us at the window, and held a finger to his lips, shhhh."

If you're in Chicago, track down a copy of No Touching #3 to read the rest - for the rest of the globe, visit their website and download the whole issue for free. The other stories are good too, but I can't promise they're this ACTION PACKED.

Randi vs. the TV Psychics

I love the Amazing Randi. He's made it his life's work to look at people who claim they can talk to ghosts, or sense spirits, or communicate with Venusians, and say, "dude, whatev."

I'm no cynic - I'd love for all of that junk to be real. It would be rad to live in a universe where spooky messages can be passed from beyond the grave - or just to know what happens when you die. I'd love it if Bigfoot was real, if those sasquatch howls were the real thing. If sparkly things in the sky were aliens, if the weird lights I once saw in the desert were from another planet. If dinosaurs still lived in lakes, and if people could bend spoons just by wanting to.

But it's all just kind of goofy. Bridges aren't haunted, toilet paper rolls don't unspool because there's a poltergeist in your apartment. It's nice to think so, though. Or to pretend for a night that it happens like that.

For the last ten years James Randi has offered a one-million dollar prize to anyone who can prove they possess paranormal powers. No one's ever won. From the recent article in Wired:

'A Nevada man legally named "The Prophet Yahweh" planned to seize the prize for charity by summoning two spaceships to a Las Vegas park last year, but negotiations broke down when he announced he was bringing several armed guards to the demonstration in case any "negative personalities" showed up. An inventor who claimed to have built a device that could sense the psychic distress of an egg about to be dropped into a pot of boiling water recently abandoned his application when the foundation suggested the egg be threatened by a hammer instead, in case the invention was really just detecting steam.

'"One a week gets as far as a protocol negotiation, and then drops off," says Jeff Wagg, who administers the challenge.'

But now Randi's changing the rules - before anyone can come to the Randi Foundation, they have to prove their powers somewhere else first. That frees them from dealing with anyone who walks through their door, folks looking for fame or who are just delusional. So instead, they'll be going after people, targeting the jerks and TV psychics who take advantage of people who really, really want to believe that they have another chance to talk to their friends and family who have passed on. You know Sylvia Browne, yeah?



Lookit her there, all thoughtful. She goes on Montel Williams all the time, writes books, tours the country and gladly accepts your cash in exchange for relaying messages from loved ones who have died. Once upon a time she accepted Randi's challenge, to undergo the tests of the Foundation and prove to Randi and the world that she really had paranormal powers and wasn't just a sideshow charlatan. Then she backed down, posting an open letter on her website saying that she wasn't interested in Randi's money, or his validation. Which is too bad - again, from Wired:

"That's a disappointment, because if Browne's claims were ever to stand up to a scientific test in an adversarial process, it would be an unprecedented event in modern history, potentially changing our scientific understanding of the universe. Instead, you can buy a psychic phone call with her for $700."

So. I love James Randi.



If laser beam eyes were real, dude would have them.










(oh, yeah - Wired link found via BoingBoing.)

I want you to want me.

From John Rogers, who wants to propagate a meme without asking anyone to participate.

Here are 5 Things You Don't Know About Me. One of them is untrue.

1) I learned how to ride a bike when I was 24.

2) Once, I spent Christmas Day (and the following New Year's Day) working as a radio DJ. I played a Nirvana song from their Unplugged album and a dude called the station to tell me that I made his whole holiday season.

3) I hate dogs so much.

4) I spent a solid week, Monday to Friday, in the 2nd Grade telling everyone at school that I wasn't Matt, I was Max, Matt's identical cousin. For everyone else the joke was over by Tuesday, but I'd promised myself I wouldn't let it up. By Friday everyone was really pissed off at me (as mad as you get when you're 7), and I ate lunch being ignored. I tried to win back their favor on Monday by agreeing with everyone that Max, indeed, was a jerk.

5) I have been treated to barbecued chicken by a professional card player.

Medusa is burned in my brain.

Ray Harryhausen's creatures, in chronological order, in about four minutes.



Found via the Beat, which used to have an address I could just remember.

Shazam!

I believe in making statements before I am sure they are true. Thusly: I do not like anything ironically.

That is to say: I like country music because it's twangy and unpolished. I like Rocky because it's about boxing, because it's a weird love story, and because the Rocky movies lodged themselves in my brain, when I was a kid, in some place in the back that I cannot touch or manipulate, as the Way Movies Are. I like Christmas trees because they smell good, and I like having the room lit only by those lights when I'm working. I like cowboy boots because they clop when I walk and they make me taller. I like my mustache because I think it makes my face look good. I like Survivor because it's fun to watch real people (well, a certain kind of real people) scheme. I like the Amazing Race because Phil makes good faces. I like Deadwood and the Venture Brothers because they're perfect specimens of TV.

What else? I like Ford Focus cars because I don't know why. I like the way they feel when I drive them. I like games because they're fun, and I feel clever when I win them and a different kind of clever when I don't. I like alcohol that tastes like candy, because I like candy - hence, Mike's Hard Lemonade. I don't like sushi because it's cold and creepy and weird. I like biking because it's fun to go fast. I like Saturday Night Live because it's fun to find the patterns, and at least a few times an episode, it's funny. I like yoga because it feels like easy exercise. I like zombie movies because there are zombies in them, but I don't like much anything else with zombies, because zombies are made for the movies. Lately I like Scrubs because it's about people who are mean to each other, but like each other anyway - they know they're in a sitcom, but it works anyway. I like space because it's big and unknown, but I like Earth because it's where I live and it's all we've got. I like Captain Marvel better than Superman, because I could be Captain Marvel if I knew the magic word.

Not So Long Ago . . .

This is my friend Patrick Van Slee.



The internet is Awesome.

True Facts I Learned in Ohio This Xmas

1. As a youth, my dad was a library aid. Also, he wanted to be a history teacher.

2. Pa used to be a trucker part-time. He’d make short runs during the day, getting back by late afternoon or by nightfall. Then he’d do the farming, sometimes until dawn.

3. Ma met Pa through Uncle Nick, who told Pa he “knew a good woman.” Ma worked in a doctor’s office at the time, and took a shift over at the nursing home to help out a friend. She hated it and said she’d never go back. She’s worked there for thirty years.

4. Pa’s first wife ran out on him for a man who ran a farm equipment business. Pa’s mother moved back to the farm to help him keep house and raise Sheryl and Leslie-Marie. Pa had a heart and the word Mother tattooed on his arm, and once I was born and his mom was dead, Mother was what he called Ma.

5. One of the stipulations Ma had for moving in with Pa really was indoor plumbing – Pa had no bathroom or running water indoors. Ma had the day off from work and they’d planned to go shopping for bathroom fixtures, but when she pulled into the driveway she saw a giant, new, bright blue hay baler. She figured she’d have to wait a long time for that bathroom, and she did. She still moved in, though.

6. My brother met his wife when he was a sophomore in high school. His daughter is almost 17 now.

7. There once was a murder. My mom has many distant cousins, and this is a story she heard from a close one: their cousin Phil was a farmer and he moonlighted working construction. He had two guys who worked for him regular, and Phil paid them out of pocket. They came around one night as Phil was getting home and caught him getting out of his truck. They wanted more money for a recent job, but Phil said he didn’t have any to give them. They insisted, and Phil said he still didn’t have it. One of them cut his throat with a knife, then stabbed him until he was dead.
The two men went into the house where Phil’s wife was making supper. She hadn’t heard the commotion outside, so when they walked in she told them that Phil wasn’t home yet but they could stay and wait for him and eat. They said okay and ate supper with Phil’s wife. After supper they stabbed her too, but she got away and ran into the bathroom. She locked the locked the door and they couldn’t get in, so she sat on the floor and bled to death by morning.

The men went into the bedroom of their teenage son, tied his hands behind his back, and strangled and stabbed him until he was dead. They went into the bedroom of their five-year-old adopted daughter, but they left her there sleeping. She’d slept through the whole thing.

In the morning the boy’s friend arrived to take him to school. He honked his horn, but the girl came out. She said the boy was sick, that she couldn’t wake him up and there was blood on the bed. He went inside and found the boy and called the police. When the police came they found Phil in his car and Phil’s wife in the bathroom, and later they arrested the men.

My mom’s cousin heard this story after getting a job at a bank and getting to know one of her co-workers – the little grown, grown to an adult. My mom’s cousin went home and told the story to her husband, and her husband said, “Melva, we’re related to them.”

When my mom’s mom died, my mom inherited the scrapbook of her mom’s mom. Included were two newspaper clippings, reporting the murder and the murderers’ arrests, and also a clipping about the wedding of Wayne Newton. We are not related to him.

8. Pickles, stored properly, will never go bad.

Thwip!

I always thought so.

You are Spider-Man

Spider-Man 75% The Flash 65% Robin 55% Green Lantern 50% Hulk 50% Superman 45% Catwoman 40% Wonder Woman 38% Iron Man 35% Supergirl 28% Batman 10%

You are intelligent, witty, a bit geeky and have great power and responsibility.

Click here to take the Superhero Personality Test

Smelvin Belvin

Belvin's face was waiting for old age. He was in our grade, so he was the same age as us, I guess. He wore the same t-shirts as us and rode the bus and took tests and everything. But it was his face - it didn't look right. It looked like it was waiting for wrinkles. He walked with a stoop, his eyes were sunken in, and he talked with a quiver.

Belvin wasn't in any clubs, didn't play any sports. He got out of class in the afternoons to help the janitor. The janitor had jowels and big droopy lips and when he talked it was hard to understand. Local legend said he was missing a toe from the mythical snapping turtle that lived in the pond between our grade school and the high school. In the afternoons, after lunch, you could see him walking past the doors of the classrooms with Belvin behind him, pushing a pushbroom or carrying big bags of trash. Belvin would come back to class shortly before the afternoon bell, smelling of garbage or cleansers. This gave him the name Smelvin Belvin. He told us to shut up, and argued that he didn't smell, but that's a hard thing to contest. It was truth, not just a rumor.

Rumor was Skylar, the girl famous at our school for losing a frozen hot dog inside of her while masturbating. Rumor was Doug, suspended mysteriously and said to have been caught having sex with an outdoor water faucet. Truth was this: Smelvin Belvin stank like trash.

Weaver Rd.

(This comes from a writing exercise my pal Laura and her pal Suzanne made up, basted on the short story "Nettles" by Alice Munro)

In the summer of 1984 I remember my brother driving a tractor, a loader, a combine. The tractor was white with mighty orange tires taller than a man. It looked exactly like a die-cast toy tractor my brother had in his bedroom. The loader was rusty yellow, driven by shifting black knobs, and it had treads like a tank. The combine was a monster, giant and red with a black MF logo on the side, for Massey-Ferguson, and vicious, whirling blades in the front. The small cab was up top, fifteen feet above the ground, with a radio inside but no air conditioning. Just an old fan, round and rusty.

Years later my grandfather, who owned and worked the farm, had a stroke. He leased the fields to another farmer to plant and plow and my job, as a teenager, was to sit with him at night and watch TV until he fell asleep. He was scared to be alone after his stroke, he couldn't walk very well and he couldn't swallow his saliva. He sat with a crescent moon-shaped plastic cup on his chest to collect the spit that dribbled from his chin. The barn was empty of his equipment, the tractor, the loader and the combine.

In Ohio where I lived as a kid I wanted to learn how to drive those machines. They were terrifying, loud, rusty and dirty, but they were what men worked with. At thirteen, fourteen or fifteen, you learned to drive them and worked the farm, wore your blue jeans tight with a fat, square wallet in your back pocket, wore a mesh cap with tractor logos and pins on it, washed your hands before supper with frothy, industrial soap because they were black from oil and grime in the shop. There was always something to fix or build. The pick-up, the dump truck, the loader or both tractors, the bushhog, the Massey, the air pump. Some animal had died in the silo and someone small and skinny had to crawl in and get it. Pa had a semi truck trailer in his backyard filled with spare parts of cars, machines and motorbikes. It was black in the trailer, and hot. He had been a truck driver once, he had driven a motorcycle. There is a picture of him on his bike in a leather jacket, black hair slicked back, a golden hoop in his ear before that was done by anyone you'd feel comfortable sitting across the table from. This was before he'd met my grandma, when he had a different family. He was not my grandpa by blood. He had tattoos on his forearms of a naked woman and a hula girl in a skirt, and on his bicep a heart that said Mother. In the morning, when he woke up, he never a shirt before breakfast.

And it's right behind the nose.

Once upon a time I had a friend who told me, in a car, that PUNCH-DRUNK LOVE was the perfect example of a movie she wanted to make. It made me laugh, but I liked it, because it's one of my favorite movies, and she was one of my strangest and fondest friends.

I saw THE SCIENCE OF SLEEP tonight and I thought, for one thing, there were at least two of my friends, or their archetypes, in the movie - one was the lady who wanted to make PUNCH-DRUNK - and for another, this, THIS was the perfect example of a movie I wanted to make.



It's sweet, but with a realistic rhythm. Also there are cardboard cars.

Barf Poop!

Riding my bike here today I had an imaginary conversation, because I often do when I’m on my bike, because I’m afraid to wear headphones and I don’t even have any anymore anyway. I said, “No, my girlfriend couldn’t make it today. She’s taking our* cat to the vet.”

“Oh? How come?”

“Liver disease.”

Fappo!

And then, to alleviate the bummerhood of liver disease, I say this:

“She’s been staying in the bathroom since she started feeling sick. It’s gotten pretty gross in there. She peed in there today, in the corner, like under or next to the water dish. That’s my fault, because she’s still well enough to use the box, but when I leave wet food on the floor I shut the door so the other cats can’t get to it, but then she can’t get to the box. So, aside from cat puke and messy cat food there’s also cat pee. It’s so disgusting we** renamed it Grosstown, California. We put up a sign***. It has its own zip code, even.”

“What is it?”

“The zip code?”

“Yeah.”

First attempt:

“0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – Poop.”

Second attempt:

“9 – 4 – 6 – 0 – Poop.”

Third attempt:

“9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop.”

And then I wrote this song:

9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop
You know what to do
9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop
It’s the zip code of my bathroom!
9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop
There’s cat pee there too
9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop
Bein’ there gets me blue
(Breakdown)
Ohhhh, I don’t wanna take a shower there
Cause I get cat crumbs on my feet in there
There’s also a lot of cat hair in there
I useta-useta like to read in there
(Bring the beat back!)
9 – 4 – 6 – Barf – Poop
You know what to do. . . .


*My cat? Lola is six and mostly mean to everyone else, but she and Amy have gotten along great since the move.

**I did this alone.

***Not true.

Hey! The State is back!

I spent many, many half-hours in high school watching the State on MTV. They put up a new skit to promote their first season being available on iTunes.

Go watch it!

It's (late) Wednesday . . . that means graphic novel news!

ITEM! Little Brown goes graphic!

Rich Johnson, formerly in charge of DC's book trade business (DC being the home of Superman and Batman, and a division of Time-Warner) has been hired by Hachette Book Group USA to start up a graphic novel imprint at Little/Brown. According to Publisher's Weekly, Little/Brown, "has been looking for a creative way to be part of this exciting category," and Johnson "has been hired as a consultant to look into acquiring titles in a number of categories under the graphic umbrella including licensed manga, original manga, original American comics and graphic novels, webcomics, licensed adaptations and children's graphic novels."

I think that covers absolutely everything except for nurse mystery novels. So, hey - more comics! From Little/Brown!

Tell me more:
http://pwbeat.publishersweekly.com/blog/2006/09/27/johnson-to-hachette/


ITEM! Cartoon Network helps sell BLEACH

BLEACH, the anime series, debuted on the Cartoon Network on September 9th, and according to the BookScan numbers for the week ending September 17th - the first volume of BLEACH, the graphic novel, originally released in the US in June 2004 is suddenly at #7 on the list of graphic novels sold in bookstores. Vol. 2 rocketed to #20, continuing what some folks call "the Cartoon Network effect," first seen with NARUTO. There are now seven volumes of BLEACH in the BookScan top 50, with fourteen volumes total in the series.

All eleven volumes of NARUTO continue to live in the BookScan top 20, and only 8 of the top 50 titles were non-manga.

Tell me more:
http://www.icv2.com/articles/news/9359.html

ITEM! Marvel Super-Heroes Head to the Web

Marvel Comics announced this week that Cryptic Sudios, creators of the Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Game (that's MMORG to nerds) CITY OF HEROES will develop MARVEL UNIVERSE ONLINE.

Sez Marvel: "The mechanics of the new Marvel MMORG will differ substantially from those of City of Heroes where players basically build their own superheroes. The Marvel game will center around the heroes of the Marvel universe and will feature custom art and character designs created especially for the game."

I do not know what all of this means. Will there be multiple Spideys running around for players to play? Customizable Hulks? Hard to say, but when asked if the new character renditions will lead to new licensing streams, Marvel responded, "It's not out of the realm of possibility that this will influence other areas of our business."

Tell me more:
http://icv2.com/articles/home/9383.html

The Empire Strikes BAck

OBI-WAN: That boy is our last hope.

YODA: No. There is another.

See, what this tells me is - in Episode III, Mrs. Vader should have given birth to Luke, Luke should have been passed on to Ben, and Ben should have been ushered off to the desert - therefore, Mrs. Vader's final fate (and Leia's birth) would remain a mystery to the unfortunate viewers who may someday watch Star Wars sequentially, from the Phantom Menace through to Return of the Jedi.

"And that is why your sister remains safely anonymous."

I have driven way lots.

create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourCalifornia travel guide

I did this two years ago (it's right here), and this is an update of all of the states I've visited, not counting those flown through. I'm doing way better these days!

You can your own map by visiting their site.

I caught one.

I went fishing once with James and his uncle, standing in the stream of some little river, leading into a lake with a name I don't know that I ever knew. James and his uncle picked out a prime spot to fish, where they stood on the bank and cast and recast. I stood twenty, thirty feet away, happily casting, recasting, not catching anything. I didn't WANT to catch anything. The fish we were fishing for - blue gill? - were white with stripey flecks of orange and blue. They were slimey, wet, scaley . . . they breathed and undulated, flopped in the air where they didn't belong.

There was ONE I caught, that fell off my hook, that I flipped and flicked and tried not to touch as I released it back into the water - we were catching and releasing, I was glad but didn't know why - and I wanted to flick it back with my foot, but it was so small, no longer than my own hand, thin like a quarter, I was afraid my shoe would destroy it. I managed to get back in the water and swam away, despite a nasty hole in its face from my hook. I hadn't wanted to catch a thing, but was glad I did. I'd caught one, so I could say that much. I didn't have to answer "nothing" regarding how I did, what I caught. I CAUGHT one. I caught ONE.

It's Wednesday, that means Graphic Novel News!

The "It's Only 5:30 For Me" Edition

ITEM! Manga round-up - and NARUTO is where it's at! Volume 11 was released this month and in its first full week on the shelves it has sold more copies in a seven day period than any other graphic novel this year. In fact, if we look at the Bookscan numbers for the week ending August 27th, we can see how NARUTO continues to dominate:

1. Naruto vol. 11 (Viz Media)
2. The 9/11 Report: A Graphic Adaptaion (Hill and Wang)
3. Fruits Basket vol. 14 (Tokyopop)
4. Death Note vol. 7 (Viz Media)
5. Naruto vol. 10 (Viz Media)
6. Naruto vol. 1 (Viz Media)
7. Black Cat vol. 4 (Viz Media)
8. HALO (Marvel Comics)
9. Fullmetal Alchemist vol. 9 (Viz Media)
10. Naruto vol. 2 (Viz Media)

So, only two non-manga titles - and one is a video game tie-in and the other is an historical singularity. Also, Viz takes up 3 of the top 10 slots - but it's worth pointing out that DEATH NOTE, BLACK CAT, and FRUITS BASKET don't have a heavy animated presence in the US at all - FRUITS BASKET is available on DVD, while the other two can't be found on US airwaves at all. What they DO have in common is that DEATH NOTE and BLACK CAT were both serialized in the US magazine SHONEN JUMP before being published in trades. So, there's still something to be said for serialization before being collected and sold in the bookstores - just not in the traditional comic book store format the US is used to. HALO, the only Marvel Comics entry anywhere near the top 10, wasn't serialized at all before its release.

Tell me more:
http://icv2.com/articles/home/9255.html
http://www.lovemanga.co.uk/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black_Cat_%28manga%29
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Death_note

ITEM! Along with the redesign of its website, TokyoPop is selling some of its newer and lower selling titles exclusively through its website - angering a few vocal retailers. TokyoPop defends it has an attempt to give special attention to titles that are, quite simply, getting lost on the ever-expanding manga shelves. Retailers (the independent bookstore types, not the chains) are calling it a betrayal of some of TokyoPop's most ardent supporters - some even saying they'll be hesitant to order new TokyoPop series, for fear that TP will simply yank them from the shelves at a later date.

TP has defended their position, saying that they've always been open to experimenting and finding new ways to reach their audience. Some retailers, talking to Publisher's Weekly, said that they never like it when publisher sell directly to their audience, and that the retailers will "remember it at order time." It strikes THIS reporter as a case of TokyoPop preferring to take the merchandising of certain books into its own hands - and the retailers feel a little stung.

Meanwhile, the new TokyoPop site itself looks pretty sharp. I checked out the blogs today and the first thing I saw was a fan gushing about VAMPIRE HUNTER D, a non TP title. Maybe not good for TP's sales, but they're definitely building a community of manga lovers.

Tell me more:
http://www.publishersweekly.com/article/CA6368715.html?nid=2789
http://tokyopop.com/blogs.php

It might be a crackhead.

Dear lord . . . leprechauns in Alabama. There are so many bizarre things about this video, I don't know where to start.

Why, Garfield, Why?!

I have a cold and my throat is sore and when I laugh really hard it sounds high pitched like the Joker. Also, it turns out that when you take out Garfield's thought balloons it becomes a strip about a lonely dude who talks to himself:



Sometimes he yells at them.



More!

Mostly About Valentine Victorious

So! I saw this play the other night and it was really good.

It's called Valentine Victorious, written by Nathan Allen and directed by Dennis Watkins, and it was put on by the House Theatre of Chicago. It's the third part of the Valentine Trilogy, a series of plays telling one story over three genres. This last part was a superhero tale set in 1930's Chicago--one of my favorite tricks of the play being the lights and shadows cast against the back wall to give the illusion of a cityscape, the underside of the el tracks, or the headstones of Graceland Cemetery, as appropriate.

I really liked the first play, San Valentino and teh Melancholy Kid, and not a small part of that like was because it dealt with cowboys. I really disliked Curse of the Crying Heart, being part two and concerning samurais, mostly because I didn't think it lived up to the promise of chapter one, or of the promise of the House. I was disappointed overall with the House's second season (of which Crying Heart was a part--we're nearly through season three now, for those keeping score). The House's first full year of shows--dealing with Harry Houdini, cowboys, space ships, romance, 3-D, rock bands, death-defying escapes, violinists, and love, love, love--was presented with a fistful of hope for the future. I know a few theater types here and there, and I'm the only one I know who really likes the House--but that's mostly because they get a little snobby about theater. When we talk about why I like the House, they shake their heads, look at the ground, and say things like, "You now, there's a tradition . . . and if you're going to do theater . . . man, there's just this tradition, and you have to know you're walking in the footsteps of that tradition."

Their meaning being that the House somehow isn't, I suppose. But I think the House acknowledges that tradition in the best way you can, but taking the bits you like, changing the bits you don't, and taking a whole lot of other bits from other stuff. The House uses vaudeville, movies, comics, pop culture, everything they can get their eyes, ears, lips, noses and hands on. And I like that, even when their shows aren't perfect.

But with season two--and with Crying Heart--I felt that they were mostly treading water. I should exclude Cave With Man from that statement, which opened their second season, because that's one of the best plays I've seen them do. Cave was a play that operated almost wholly within its own invented language, which was fun and interesting to get your head around. And (at least the performance I saw) opened with the audience taking part in a drumming, beating, clapping ritual that made you feel like you were seeing some THEATER, man. It was a fun show. But Crying Heart, and Dave DaVinci Saves the Universe after it, didn't do anything new for me. When the House was clever in these two plays, it felt like they were doing it for clever's sake, as opposed to the sake of the play and the folks seeing it. I felt the same way after their third season opener, The Great and Terrible Oz.

But! Valentine Victorious puts them back on a track that I appreciate. I don't know if they do it consciously or not, but they seem to have one "gimmick" every play--magic tricks or 3D or wire-fu or something--and the trick this time worked a lot better than some others. Even with the Rocket Man, which I adored, the 3D seemed out of place and tricksy for the sake of it--but in Valentine, the House used oversized comic book panels during one scene that really called for it. It accentuated the scene and accomplished something that would have otherwise been absent. When this trilogy began I was excited about the use of music--the Trick Hearts have accompanied every performance of the Valentine Trilogy since it began, with the lead character (always played by Nathan Allen, except for a brief spell where he broke his hand during Valentine's run) singing and occasionally playing guitar. With San Valentino, I thought the music would match the genre somehow--but it seemed like that idea was abandoned after part one. Valentine offered a nice opportunity to bring that back with some period-inspired songs, but except for one particular sexy number sung by Carolyn Defrin, it was the same old heartache-rock. Maybe it's just a matter of taste, but for the most part I wanted to get back to the play this time around.

The dialogue was spot-on and snappy and the outfits evoked the feeling of comics and pulps without making the actors look unintentionally silly. I don't entirely understand what happened in the climactic scene--it's a battle between Valentine and his arch-foe, the Black Skull--but I think I worked it out on the bus ride to Pick Me Up after the show. But even that hiccup wasn't enough to throw the piece as a whole off-track. The show was a fitting end to the Trilogy and even, I dare say it, shows the House's growing maturity.

(Well, now that I think about it--the Trilogy's love story, mostly between Valentine and a girl who dies in part one, might need a little more closure. Or maybe it was a choice to keep that unspoken, in which case that's fine by me.)

It was a fine show put on by some fine folks, and if I'd known it was going to win my heart back I wouldn't have put it off until closing night. They close out their third season with Joe Meno's new play, written by Joe and based on his upcoming novel, The Boy Detective Fails. I think it starts in May. Also, they have a swell blog up at .

Part Three: Coach Carters Speaks of Huks

The most important thing that happened in Oklahoma City was that we received, and then carried across 20 states, a box of 60 knives, most of which were sharp and deadly, some of which were illegal. The most interesting thing that happened in Oklahoma City was this:

Coach Carter sits us down at night. We've eaten, we've showered, we've washed the stink and dirt of our past lives from our shoulders. Coach Carter says to Jack, he says, "Lots of people will try to tell you lots of things. When I was on the base--I was still a kid, still a teenager, but I would hang out with my older brothers, who were already signed up--they used to tell us, and I mean the CO's used to tell us, that the Huks were bad guys. Now the Huks were the army, the, uh, the military part of the Philippino Communist Party. And they'd tell us, don't you go wandering out there in the woods, because the Huks will grab you and take you off and you won't be seen no more. And sometimes that was true, but what you find out is there's more to anyone than what your CO will tell you.

"There was this one night when I was out runnin with the older boys and we found ourselves in this one bar where the American servicemen would hang out. And one of them, an airman, he took a liking to one of the Philippino girls. They were at the bar and talkin close and whisperin and kissin a little, and one of the boys who worked there--one of the Philippino boys--he started getting real mad, because he liked to figure that this was his girl. And she told him flat out, told him, 'No I'm not,' and that was good enough for her and good enough for the airman, but it wasn't good enough for this boy. He raised a fuss, pointin and yellin at these two, but as he was in a American bar, he didn't do much else. He wandered off and we figured that was that.

"We wound up later at this other bar--that was how we'd do it, and you know how it goes, we go from one bar to the next--and it was more of a, you know, a native bar. It wasn't tense or nothin, but you know, the scales were tipped a bit. And this airman is there and he's still kissin on this girl, and this cook shows up, this boy from the last bar. And this boy shows up again--we were all sitting at the back of this bar, and the boy he comes walking in from the front. He picks up a bottle, just a half-full bottle of beer from someone else's table, and he's walking from the front of the bar to the back, and at every table he passes he's giving that bottle a smack. He takes two steps, and whack-whack, he tries to break the bottle. He takes two steps, and whack-whack, he tries to break the bottle. Now I'm watchin this, but the airman and the girl, they don't see nothin yet. And I figure I'll say something when he gets close enough, but meanwhile I'm just kinda freaked out, because this guy's still comin, takin two steps, and whack-whack, he's still tryin to break this bottle. And then he's just about there to our table, and I'm just thinkin I'll have to say somethin, and the boy just happens to be passin by this table where a Marine is sitting and talking to his girl. And this boy lifts up his bottle to whack it on the table, and this is the one where it's going to break, you can just feel it, and the Marine reaches out without even looking up, just reaches out and takes the bottle right out of this boy's hand, and sits it down on the far side of him, and this boy don't even notice, he's still walking. And the Marine keeps on talkin to his girl, and this boy takes two more steps, and then he's standing right there in front of us, only he's by hisself and he's got no bottle and the lot of us stand up, the airman and my two brothers and me.

"And this airman's man. So we push this boy out of the bar, the four of us and this girl watchin, and we got this boy surrouned in the street. And the airman's just about to pound on him while we're watchin on when we're hit in the eyes by these headlights, and it's these MP's, shown up right out of the blue and about saved this boy's life. They ask if everything's okay, and we say sure, and this boy runs off and we go back to our beers, and I have a feelin that this is going to get ugly before it gets better.

"So we decide to go to this third bar. We split up in different cabs and the guy driving ours is Pham--he's a Huk, he and his twin brother are both Huks, but they're good guys. We'd run into them from time to time and talk and be friendly. So they're driving me and my brother to the next bar and we tell Pham about this boy who's been following us around. And we tell Pham, and we're a little drunk by now, we tell Pham that this guy might be trouble, and without us even asking a thing about it, Pham tells us that he'll take care of it. Well, we don't think much more about it and we get to this new bar--it's darker and drunker than the rest, and things are a little tense from the get go. So we're there, me and my brothers and the airman and the airman's girl, and sure enough, the boy shows up a few minutes later. And he's staring us down and the airman's about had it and he shouts at this boy, 'all right, we're gonna do it now or we're not gonna do it at all,' and the boy says they're gonna do it now. So the two of them head out the door, and then one by one my brothers and me see these other guys walk out the door behind them, these Philippino guys, one after the other, like ten, fifteen guys. So we don't even say a word, we just know we gotta go out there or our airman's gonna get it bad. We figure he's still gonna get it bad, as many of them went after him, but at least we'd get it bad right beside him. So we go out there, the three of us, and we're all pushed up ahead and into this circle of mad as hell Philippinos. They got us surrounded and we're back to back to back to back, and they're yellin at us about takin their women and all this shit, and they're gettin out knives and bricks and all that, and I'm just thinkin, hoo boy, this one is going to be bad. But we walked right into it, so we're going to take it, but we're gonna take some of them out with us.

"And then we hear this hootin and hollerin from behind us, and to the side of us, and from down this side alley comes Pham in his taxi. And he cuts his lights off and he's got about ten guys crammed into this little car of his. And then another taxi comes from the other side, filled with another ten guys, and then from all the other alleys and sidestreets these guys come runnin, I mean there's about thirty or forty goddamn guys that comin runnin out, and they're all Pham's friends, and they're all goddamn Huks! And all these boys who were surroundin us, just scatter. I mean they are gone.

"Except the boy who started this trouble in the first place. The airman's got a hold of his collar, and Pham comes up to us and slaps us all on the back and shakes our hands, and boy we were so glad to see him. And we tell Pham this was the son of a bitch causin us so much grief, and Pham puts him in the back of his taxi cab and him and his friends all drive off. Me and my brothers and our airman figure this was as good a time as any to head on back to the base. And that boy who was followin us around, and causin us all that trouble? After he got drove off by Pham in his taxi cab? We never saw, heard, or smelled of him again.

"We never asked Pham about it. But what it goes to show you is this--sometimes the Huks were all right."

NEXT: Cowboy Hats, Regular Fries, and I Think They Thought We Were Gay.

The Banana King

There's a new issue of The Banana King available at finer bookstores everywhere! It features stories by Elizabeth Crane, Anne Elizabeth Moore, and some dude named Matthew Jent. Actually, that last one is me, and my story is really awesome. It's called "Long, Low, and Blue" and I made it up by myself. So track a copy down and include the way-awesome A.B. Drea in your prayers for putting together a kick-ass zine.

Drills Momentarily Delayed

House leaders late Wednesday abandoned an attempt to push through a hotly contested plan to open an Alaskan wildlife refuge to oil drilling, fearing it would jeopardize approval of a sweeping budget bill Thursday.

They also dropped from the budget document plans to allow states to authorize oil and gas drilling off the Atlantic and Pacific coasts — regions currently under a drilling moratorium.

The actions were a stunning setback for those who have tried for years to open a coastal strip of the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge, or ANWR, to oil development, and a victory for environmentalists, who have lobbied hard against the drilling provisions.
President Bush has made drilling in the Alaska refuge his top energy priority.

The House Rules Committee formalized the change late Wednesday by issuing the terms of the debate when the House takes up the budget package on Thursday.

The decision to drop the ANWR drilling language came after GOP moderates said they would oppose the budget if it was kept in the bill. The offshore drilling provision was also viewed as too contentious and a threat to the bill, especially in the Senate.

-----

That's surprising! But welcome news on a day that also brought news that in Kansas, science is our foe.

It Could Be Corey

From Mer:

I think the quintessential reason to like Coreys is because they make you
feel better for who you are.

Loser who works at Barnes and Noble under one Daisy Morton? Dude, could be
worse: you could be doing coke off of a tranny in East Harlem with Corey.

Writer's block threatening to derail your nascent (fuck, prenatal) career?
Hey, man, you could be on the floor of the Viper Room, sucking gin martinis
out of the carpet since your credit card just bounced and you can't even
convince Tara Reid to buy you a double in exchange for some nasty, back of
the SUV oral, just like Corey.

Have gonarrhea? Hey, so does Corey! The antibiotics work, he says, no need
to cry.

Hurricane Katrina buttfucked your house, school, career, life? You could be
bent over a casting couch, getting pegged by a D-level producer who thinks
that maybe he can find a place for you in next summer's blockbuster "Wet
Coeds 2: Bikini Beach Patrol." You and Corey.

See? See how this day is so vital to America? Because no matter how
bushwacked our own lives seem, we could be in the stinking morass that is
known as the life of being Corey. Thank you, brave Coreys, for living the
life that we don't even want to read about in US Weekly. Amen.

Corey is Dead.

There is a place I go in my head when I must conjure Corey. As Corey Thunder Dome 2005 approached I went there, dear reader. I went to my special place to bring them forth to celebrate this day that honors them, gives them the respect they long fought for and so deserve. As they are shy, I spoke with tenderness. I called to them in soothing tones. Corey, are you there? Corey, do you hear me? I beckoned them in, gently at first and then with great force. I threatened. I cajoled. I cried out, my voice echoing emptily in the night. I sang a stirring, a cappella rendition of “Dream a Little Dream” ending with a Corey Heart medley, consisting only of “Sunglasses at Night” over and over, a broken fucking record. A golden stud in the wrong lobe. The Coreys, they did not come. The Coreys left me alone in my bed, in my head, wringing my hands and tearing at my clothes. I read through the Thunder Dome archive. I spoke Corey quotes aloud.

Could you take the car out of neutral? We just got passed by a street sweeper.

Silence.

An innocent girl, a harmless drive. What could possibly go wrong?

Silence.

Don’t switch the blade on the guy in shades, oh no.

Silence.

I wept quiet tears. And then out of the darkness, slow and with great bravado came sweet music. A gravelly voice. A drunken slur, underlined with blatant sexual innuendo. “I’m a cop, you’re a crook,” he spat. “Nothin’ worse than a bad cop.” He hissed it, tickling the inside of my ear. Nolte, hair wild. Nolte, in handcuffs. Smoking a cigar. Handling the truth. Issued a restraining order. Accompanied by Eddie Murphy? Nolte in my special place.

Alone no longer, I am free. I am his.

Corey is dead.
But Nolte, so very much alive.

Corey Feldman Is . . .

I can't think of a better way to get started than to visit Googlism.

My love for the Coreys goes back to Corey Feldman. We flirted a little in Stand By Me, but we didn't get down to the heavy petting until the Lost Boys. So I wondered what Corey's been up to since we looked him up last year . . .


corey feldman is pretty sure he knows what you think of him
corey feldman is my man
corey feldman is out of the pictures
corey feldman is a secondary player in this one
corey feldman is still alive
corey feldman is a god
corey feldman is to wed
corey feldman is one of the few celebs who's still kickin' it
corey feldman is as eventful as a hollywood high school reunion
corey feldman is cresting on his angry young man
corey feldman is still the better corey
corey feldman is a very vivid memory
corey feldman is in town
corey feldman is revealed here as one of the ugliest young actors in hollywood
corey feldman is cast
corey feldman is crazy teddy duchamp
corey feldman is excellent as a teenage neighbor observer who sits on his porch and invites his friends over to watch the would
corey feldman is good
corey feldman is in this film
corey feldman is excellent
corey feldman is also in this film
corey feldman is also reported to be helping his friend corey out in his time of need
corey feldman is a true class act
corey feldman is okay by me
corey feldman is meanwhile shaving his head
corey feldman is trek in team knight rider
corey feldman is back
corey feldman is sooooooooooo sickening
corey feldman is actor
corey feldman is available
corey feldman is my arch nemesis
corey feldman is 31
corey feldman is also a writer

Coreydome 04

It started here, last August.

For the rest of last year's ponderances on All That Is Corey, check the archives for August 25th, 2004.

The pictures are gone, but there's an awful lot.

"That thing is so hell of wispy a spider covets"

Seriously, go read Achewood.

Chapter Two: Clouds Over Oklahoma

100 miles from Iowa City, and the tidings were grim.

"Hey, I'm a friend of--"

"What?"

"My name's Matt, I'm calling for--"

"I can't hear you."

"I was--can you hear me?"

"Yeah. Who is this?"

"My name's Matt, I'm on my way from--"

"Ohh, yeah. Yeah. Call back when you're closer."

We did, to little improvement. The place of our first rest was filled with silently smoldering angry eyes, inadequate jukeboxes, and one-way streets with no exits. After a short conference we opted for further nighttime driving and unseen campgrounds. Apologies were offered on both sides, and promises made to do better on the other side of the adventure. That particular outcome remains a mystery.

We drove on, across Iowa and past Des Moines (DES moe-EE-nez). We consulted our handy atlas, easily the handiest atlas I've ever known, and we spied a campground not too far from the highway. Our sleepy destination: Winterset, Iowa, birthplace of John Wayne. Time: 4AM. We set up camp in the drizzling rain, in the dark, on a hill, one campsite removed from what looked to be a friendly biker who was pulling an impressive wagon behind him. We were awake again by 8AM, our tent leaking and wet, our sleeping bags a little damp. We drove on.

The rest of the day--a solid 12 hours' drive--took us out of Iowa (not as kind to us as Wisconsin, by far), through a corner of Missouri (where Kansas City was found to be a dreary-looking place, akin to Cincinnati in its grays and browns, though occasionally capable of producing impressively pointy buildings:
















), and across the length of Kansas before the rain found us again. Rain, you ask? Rain! Sheets of it, mounds of it, jars full of it, pounding down on us as we raced across the plains. We stopped, twice, and us!, brave exploreres that we were, to let the rain pass us by.

When we at last arrived in Oklahoma City, where we were greeted by our ally Coach Carter, we were tired and eager to shower. Coach Carter welcomed us, offered us food, gave us knives.

Knives?! Ah, dear reader, have faith; all will be explained.

Next: my horsey knife is laughed at.

Bring Us Your Comfy, Your Well-Fed, Your Hyatt

From Yahoo News coverage on the halted Superdome evactuations:

At one point Friday, the evacuation was interrupted briefly when school buses pulled up so some 700 guests and employees from the Hyatt Hotel could move to the head of the evacuation line — much to the amazement of those who had been crammed in the Superdome since last Sunday.

"How does this work? They (are) clean, they are dry, they get out ahead of us?" exclaimed Howard Blue, 22, who tried to get in their line. The National Guard blocked him as other guardsmen helped the well-dressed guests with their luggage.

The 700 had been trapped in the hotel, near the Superdome, but conditions were considerably cleaner, even without running water, than the unsanitary crush inside the dome. The Hyatt was severely damaged by the storm. Every pane of glass on the riverside wall was blown out.

Mayor Ray Nagin has used the hotel as a base since it sits across the street from city hall, and there were reports the hotel was cleared with priority to make room for police, firefighters and other officials.

Chapter One: A Good Beginning

The day when I last knew the day was Friday. I hefted my bag over my shoulder, hoping I hadn't brought too little (I had not, by far), or too much (I had, by far--not a comic book was cracked). The journey began seperately, on foot, a walk through Uptown and meeting at the Army Supply Store. It was a fitting place, though by the end such a scene would have made me roll my eyes and make a mental note to blog about it later, how it was all about conflict, or the safe illusion of it. We bought last minute supplies--a new belt, lighter fluid--and my partner of the next two weeks, Halloween Jack, and myself set off for grilled cheese sandwiches and train to the north country.

On the train--the first train--we stood near the doors, holding our bags, ready to hop out. A suburban mom stood beside us as we neared a stop (not ours) and announced, "Which way to the doors open?"

Jack and I looked to each other. I was suspected she wanted us to answer. He was frowny and uncomfortable.

She said it again, "Which way do the doors open?" this time turning to face Jack.

"Well, I don't know," said Jack. "I suspect it's either this way," and he nodded his head behind us, "or that way," and he inclined his head before us.

She sniffed derisively and Jack and I avoided eye contact.

He disembarked from the train deep into the suburbs, which is not the sort of place you want to disembark anything, for any reason. We were to wait here for the Deuce, who would be taking us to meet our third traveling companion. We stepped from the train and looked around for the Deuce's machine, the Forest Moon of Endor, but it was nowhere in sight. We sat down on a grassy knoll and let the world happen around us.

A couple biked past, through the parking lot that flanked the train tracks on either side. They were on a bike, one of those two-seaters, the dude in front and his lady behind him. At first I thought it was typical, the male feeling the need to take charge. Then I thought it was funny, and I pictured the lady with an imposing strap-on, leading her man where she wanted to go. He was a pudgy red-headed lad, hiding his face behind wrap-around sunglasses. She was thin and blonde. She waved at me.

"Hello," I said, though she couldn't hear, and wiggled my fingers.

"She waved," said Jack. "At you."

"It's a good beginning," I said.

The Deuce and the Forest Moon arrived and we drove to Madison, Wisconsin. It was a few hours, but nothing compared to the next two weeks--compared to the ultraday awaiting us down the line. We met Jack's folks, who had brought our #3, the Coyote, down to meet us:
















We thought of food, but no . . . the open road was calling. We shook hands with the Deuce, with Mr. and Mrs. Soiree, Jack introduced me to the Coyote, we loaded up our gear, and we were on our way.

* * *

Dodgeville was our first port of call. We saw the signs for Pizza Hut, and we said to one another, yes, Pizza Hut is precisely where we wanted to be. Dodgeville is small Wisconsin town, if a town is even what it is. It's a hilly conglomeration of restaurants and gas stations, the sort of place made precisely to accomodate nighttime travelers. We walked in, we sat down, and Jill, our waitress, approached. She was blonde and smiley and plump.

"Midwestern Stout," Jack told me.

"What's goin on tonight, fellas?" she asked.

What luck! Our first stranger, and already an excust to tell our story!

"Why, we're on our way to the ocean!" I said.

"The ocean?" We were far from the ocean, and Jill knew it.

"We're going to California," I said.

"What for?"

"Adventure!"

Jill was tickled. She was glad to meet us, she said, happy to have been a part of our journey. "I've never met anyone going to California before," she told us.

My gut said we should invite her along, by god . . . but no. The Coyote had not room for a third, and besides, there were would be many friendly strangers on our path, I was certain. Our pizza was delivered, we ate it, and Jill undercharged us. She was reprimanded before we were even out the door.

But out the door we went! Iowa City was our next destination, and in our path would be twisting county highways, pickup trucks with testicles, and phone directions by hosts who did not want our company.

Next: Our Story Takes a Turn

One more time, from the road!

Made it to SF tonight--exploring fully tomorrow and the next day. A 10 hour trip from Vegas today was draining, but the Penn and Teller show last night was well worth it. Pictures are going up as I can post them at http://moblog.co.uk/blog/matthewjent

About to Restart for Good

When I return from my Great Pacific Adventure I'll continue the improvements--in the meantime, enjoy the new template. I'll figure out how to put the comments back in when I'm back in town and can beging posting again in earnest--if I'm not back by August 25th, the 2nd Annual Corey Day may be celebrated after-the-fact. In the meantime, wish me luck as I head to the ocean and back.

File Under: Holy Shit!

Astronomers in the United States have announced the discovery of the 10th planet to orbit our Sun.


The largest object found in our Solar System since Neptune was discovered in 1846, it was first seen in 2003 but has only now been confirmed as a planet.

Designated 2003 UB313, it is about 3,000km across, a world of rock and ice and somewhat larger than Pluto.

Scientists say it is three times as far away as Pluto, in an orbit at an angle to the orbits of the other planets.

EDIT: Based on a conversation from last night--doesn't the new planet screw up all of that hororscope stuff? I honestly don't know.

In Search of the American Dream

Or, Manifest Destiny or Something Like It

Or, Rex Phantom and Halloween Jack vs. the American West

It's been done before and I hope it will be done again, by explorers and adventurers braver and of keener eye than we. But we are not the sort of men who build our beliefs on the experiences of others. Therefore on August 11, 2005 we will set out from Chicago, Illinois in a white and black Chevy Cavalier that is yet to be named. We will first travel north to Eau Claire, Wisconsin, to settle what needs to be settled. Then we will drive south to Iowa City to rendezvous with partners and friends. From there to Oklahoma City, where we have a refuge. After this the path becomes nebulous, open to changes based on wind and whim.

Amarillo, because it's in Texas and we will need cowboy hats. Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, to see the bats. Roswell, since it's on the way to Albuquerque, where we'll take a left to Flagstaff. From there we'll see the Grand Canyon--because how can we not?--and onward to Las Vegas, where there's another bed waiting and a magic show to see. Between Oklahoma and Las Vegas we will camp, we will build fires, we tell stories for our dinners.

A detour through Death Valley will lead us to San Francisco and the ocean--the ocean! We'll take a few days to explore the city, visit a school, swim in the sea, wrestle the sharks and ourselves.

Next--the journey home! North to Portland, then to Seattle. East over the Cascades, through Spokane and Coeur d'Alene, ripping across the tip of Idaho and following 90 to Montana--onward to Missoula and Butte. Montana! We'll curve south to curse Custer at Little Big Horn, dip into Wyoming and follow our noses to Deadwood, South Dakota, where we'll swear for the ghost of Al Swearengen and clench our teeth for the ghost of Seth Bullock. We'll have mustaches then, by god, or we'll steal them from weaker men!

Northeast, then, to Minneapolis, and a tip of our hats to Prince. Further east to Eau Claire once again, and sweet home Chicago.

Fourteen days and eightteen states and two guys and one car. Countless hearts will be broken, more than one mind will be open to more possibilities than I know now how to count. I'm taking a sleeping bag and a pillowcase full of clothes and a book to read and a book to write and a red baseball bat--not for protection, but to bring a piece of my childhood along for the ride. If you're at any of the stops along the way, or you just want to get to one of them, honk and say hello.

Back from the Dead--Ready to Read!

Saturday July 16th, 8pm!
909 W. Agatite apt. 2!

Tell your friends! Invite your mom!

50 in 05: Martians, etc.

Summertime! Summer is when I buy lots of books--Morrison's 7 Soldiers series, Disinfo's Book of Lies, and Chomsky's What Uncle Sam Really Wants, most recently--but the actual reading goes slowly. It's hot and I'm sweaty and I'm daydreaming of going really fast in a car that's really cool.

#17: A Princess of Mars and #18 The Gods of Mars, by Edgar Rice Burroughs. Martians! These are the first books in a series that originally appeared in pulp magazines starting in 1914. Burroughs later created Tarzan, but he kept returning to these stories of John Carter, the Warlord of Mars. Carter is a Civil War veteran hailing from Virginia, and one day while on the run from Indians in Arizona, he is bodily transported to far-away Mars, called Barsoom by its natives, where he discovers he is Awesome at Everything and goes on to conquer everyone he meets and marries a princess. Huzzah!

Actually, they're pretty good. I think they would be more enjoyable when read as intended, or at least as originally published, in cliff-hanging excerpts from issue to issue. It's fun, sci-fi adventure stories for boys, before the trappings of sci-fi choked the genre into complacency. I also appreciate how BANG! the adventure begins right away--there isn't 50 pages of getting John Carter to Mars, or worry about how he got there. He's just there, and the story unfolds. Part of that is due to the format, the getting-to-the-point of it made necessary by serialization, but even that can go wrong--see superhero comics these days, and stories that are "written for the trade."

Odds are, you can find these stories cheap, too. There are something like 12 or 14 books in this series, but I've seen a collection of the first three floating around. And as good as it is, they are adventure stories for boys--after reading two I was more than ready to move on to something else for a while.

Next--Brautigan, Abortions, Steinbecks!

Moxie Crimefighter

According to Neil Gaiman congratulations are in order, and I believe him. So: congratulations to Penn and Emily Jillette on the birth of their daughter; but mostly congratulations to their daughter on being named Moxie Crimefighter Jillette.

SWEAT

SweatSweatSweat.

The Rogue Reading, being the brainchild of one Eric S., was a lot of fun this past Saturday. Approximately 3% of the promised readers actually showed up and read, but those of us who did are the more and cleverer for it. Rumor has it the Earl of Wessex is still half-full of beer, and a post-party gathering may be required to topple him.

Summertime does strange things to a man's brain. I'm never as reflective at the end of December as I am in the beginning of June.

50 in 05: Mystic River and Will in the World

The smell of deadlines is in the air, so I haven't been good about blogging lately. I'll try to catch up on a few of the books I've finished lately:

#15: Mystic River by Dennis Lehane: It's the sort of book that you read because of the plot, because of what it's telling, and not how it's told. But the moral seems to be that kids are killing kids because of video games. No kidding:

"Sean looked into the bloody face of Jimmy O'Shea and what he saw there scared the shit out of him. There was nothing there. Probably never had been. The kid wouldn't pull the trigger because he was angry or because he was scared. He'd pull the trigger because Sean was just a six-foot-two video image, and the gun was a joystick."

Ugh. Skip it.

#16: Will in the World: How Shakespeare Became Shakespeare, by Stephen Greenblatt. On the other hand, this is an excellent book--the best I've read in a long time, and one of the best non-fiction books I've picked up period. It's a lot of conjecture and what-ifs, but it goes into the life Will Shakespeare led, what he was doing when he was writing some of his plays--who Falstaff was based on, at least partially, what the deaths of Christopher Marlowe and Will's son Hamnet meant to him and how they can be seen reflected in his work. Will's religion, or lack of it, his brushes with the scheming politics of his day, what set him apart from other writers, both then and now. Anyone who likes Shakespeare (and if anyone *doesn't* like Shakespeare, it's because they haven't seen it done well), or anyone who is a writer, would appreciate this book. I kept putting it down to take notes. It led me right into reading Richard III and writing a play about Los Bros Booth, Edmund, Brutus, and John Wilkes. I can't recommend this one more.

To All Who Are Literate, and Most Who Are Not

Come, read, enjoy. Most of the above faces will be there.

(invitation crafted by Erin Howk)

50 in 05: Oxherding Tale

#14: Oxherding Tale, by Charles Johnson. It's mostly out of print these days, I think. I read it for school. I liked most of it. Sometimes it made me laugh. It strikes me as the sort of thing best enjoyed on a second read though, and I don't think I liked it enough for that.

Have you ever read a book or watched a movie and though, "That was good," and genuinely meant it, but then never thought much about it again? That's how this one felt. Not that it's fluffy, just that it was good, but still didn't particularly tickle my fancy.

Bevare . . . bevare!

Sequential Heart

If you're interested in comics, I'll be writing about them at Sequential Heart. And if you're interested in writing about comics, let me know--we're looking for folks to contribute to this groupblog and raise the online dialogue about comics--any kind of comics--above the general message board negativity you find in most internet circles.

50 in 05: The Bluest Eye

#13: The Bluest Eye, by Toni Morrison. Someone saw me reading THE BLUEST EYE and asked how I liked it.

"I like it okay," I told them.

"I heard Toni Morrison is too wordy," they said.

I don't know what that means, but what I said in response was, "Well, if you've got two-hundred blank pages to fill, you might as well be wordy, I guess."

The woman smiled and said, "Yeah, I guess so," and we went back to not talking.

I like THE BLUEST EYE because it's built with a structure I would never think to write a story with. The novel revolves around Pecola, but it opens and closes and is interspersed with first-person accounts from Claudia; we jump back in time and hear the stories of Cholly and Mrs. Breedlove; we hear a conversation between Pecola and her madness. It's like an experiment (or a dozen experiments) that collate into a complete novel.

Before I read it I was told it was autobiographical fiction tied to a place instead of a life, but to me it was the feeling that came through--autobiographical fiction tied to alienation and fear and potential lost. That said, I didn't read the author's afterword. I don't mind talking about a novel or a play or any piece of art--I like it a lot--and I like it when an artist talks about creation in a general sense, or with regard to their own process. But at the same time, when I order a bowl of soup I don't want the cook to come out before, during, or after to tell me all about what's in the soup. I just want to eat the soup, you know? And if I choose to discuss what I liked, disliked, or was indifferent to about the soup, that's my own business.

I spent a week living with this book and there are still things I can't get out of my head. Cholly's chapter, Soaphead Church . . . yeah. Way to pick 'em, Oprah.

50 in 05: Marvel 1602

#12: Marvel 1602, by Neil Gaiman, Andy Kubert, and Richard Isanove. This one is pretty short--because this is a fun book. It's flat-out for folks who like Marvel Comics and who know how the Marvel Universe got its start. It's not a love letter to superheroes, and it's not a love letter to comics, it's a love letter to the Marvel Universe--and it works really, really well. It leaves me wanting more, but not in a "sequel" sense--in a "I want to pour my G.I. Joes out on my bed and continue these adventures after supper" sense. It's neat seeing Andy Kubert's art find its way as the story moves along, too. There are still a few story points I don't quite understand, and I'm a little iffy on the hook of the Forerunner, but this was a really fun comic book.

50 in 05: Miniature Sulk

#11: Miniature Sulk, by Jeffrey Brown. If you're looking for The Next Jeffrey Brown Book, this is not it. SULK is a collection of stories that seem to be about Jeff's childhood and current relationship with his brother(s) and his family, but unrequited crushes quickly turn up, and then it turns into what looks like a collection of his sketchbook material. There are a few comic strip-ish short bits, including two panels featuring "Sensitive Guy" that I thought were really funny--Sensitive Guy stops a girl about to unbuckles his pants because he's written her a poem--but overall, it seems like the Top Shelf folks were just filling up pages on this one. I don't mind collections of miscellany at all, but this one seems extra unorganized, especially towards the end. The funniest bits are those that are most surprising--Jeffrey Brown diving out of the sky to knife his arch-enemy, for example--but I was really hoping this book wouldn't turn into Brown's comic book alter-ego pining after girls who don't love him. "Clumsy" and "Unlikely" are already prime examples of that--I'd much rather see more strips about Jeffrey growing up with his kung-fu brother.

Sandman!

Ain't It Cool reports that Thomas Hayden Church, he of SIDEWAYS, will be playing Sandman in the next Spider-Man picture. I always liked Sandman--I hope he wears that green shirt. And I have a soft spot for THC, as well--and it's a lot better than the earlier rumor that Venom was going to be the SM3 villain.

Heidi has a side-by-side comparison at the Beat.

RQL needs blood of the living to survive

Hello All,

Some of you might have heard of Real Quick-Like before--it's a fiction zine I'm helping my pal Annie D put together. We put out the call for short works of fiction written for the theme "Last to See Them Alive" and we have the 8-or-so pieces we want to use for the first issue--now what we need are black and white illustrations to accompany them.

RQL is going to be printed and distributed by us, sold in places around Chicago like Quimby's and Chicago Comics. It will go out to other cities depending on where we know people--so if you're interested in taking a stack to your local book/record/comic shop, let us know. No one is making any money on the project, but it gives us a chance to put out something we're all proud of for other folks to see.

So if you're interested in drawing a one-page black and white illustration for our first issue, and if you have the time to do it in the month and a half or so, please let me know--we want an illustration to accompany each story, and I'd love to get a story in your hands to inspire you as soon as possible. And if you know anyone else who would be interested, send them my way as well.

Your friend in the small press,
Matthew Jent

Gmail

I don't trust it. It kind of creeps me out--from what I understand (and when it comes to the interweb, I understand very little), some sort of microscopic internet spirit who lives in the sky will kindly allow me to see advertisements based on the content of the email I send and receive. Not to worry, however, for said email is entirely, 100% safe, secure, and private.

Er. Right then.

However! Gmail storage is ridiculously large, so when my pal Jodi (let's hear it for Nashville!) sent me a Gmail invitation, I happily accepted. I like it a lot better than hotmail for my junk mail, giving-out-of-my-email-on-websites, and things of that sort. All of this is to say, if anyone else wants a gmail account, let me know--I seem to have 50 invitations I can send out. Drop me a note at matthewjent@gmail.com if you're interested. But if you just want to tell me how much you like me, show me pictures of your boobies, or tell me secrets about your boy/girlfriends, keep using the old one.