Doctor Jones - "This Happened"

Stuff That Falls Out of Books I Flip Through at Half-Priced Books

2011-12-22T13:53:00.005-05:00

More often than not I am finding these makeshift bookmarks placed somewhere in beginning one-third of the books they respectively reside. This is an interesting observation, one that is fertile ground for speculation of all sorts; speculation in which many variables must be considered. Let us examine the facts that surround our current find.

This, let us call it a Tiki Menu, was found in between pages 156 and 157 of The Birth of the Modern: World Society 1830-1850 by Paul Johnson. Relevant to the general observation mentioned above, it is worth noting that the total page count of this book (apparently an older edition) is 1,095 – indeed, placing the tiki menu well within the range of the first third of this tome. After reading the inside flaps and doing a brief thumb-through it is obvious that this is a layman’s history book, albeit a thorough one; cat nip for anyone with a burning curiosity about this period in history. Now, let us examine the tiki menu: Bi-folded, color print, limited selection, price listings for alcohol only, United Airlines logo on the back. Here’s the story:A man of middle-age is taking a respite from his job in the accounting department and taking his wife for a week’s jaunt in Hawaii. They have reservations at a sea-side resort but no tentative schedule for anything. This is to be a relaxing, low-key getaway; sit-on-the-beach-and-read kind of thing. In anticipation for the trip our friend visits the local bookstore. He deliberately walks up and down the isles, carefully pulling books off the shelf to preview what is in store. Ultimately, he comes to Johnson’s book. It’s a hefty one, very dense, but so very alluring. This could be the greatest beach read ever!

Now, allow me to pontificate. It is devastatingly easy to convince oneself to purchase a book of this type while standing there in the History aisle of the non-fiction section deep in the embrace of a bookstore. Indeed, a bookstore is a place where the air of intellectual ambition is potent; where the sincere desire to dive headfirst into a 1,100-page history book, for example, seems easy and rewarding. I have found myself in similar situations that have witnessed me walking out with, for example, a 700-page biography of Jorge Luis Borges and a book that is a comparative study about social revolutions throughout the ages of civilization. The ambition to chew upon and digest these works was honest and fervid. I may even stop someplace for lunch to begin the endeavor – yes, I can – Nay – I will do this, and it will better me!

… and then I get home: the apartment is suddenly too muggy; the ceiling fan is suddenly too rhythmic; my attention span is suddenly cut short. I am fatigued and the environment of this place is not conducive to reading this elaborate biography. I will take a nap and then try to pick up where I left off. The momentum is then lost, and the rest is history.

This, I fear, is what I suspect happened to our accountant friend. A history book may have perhaps seemed like an excellent choice to lose oneself in while on vacation. Why wait until we get to Hawaii? We’ve got a long plane ride ahead of us. Thank you, stewardess, for this tiki menu. I’ll have the pupu and the ono beef slice entrée! Wow this book is really great. I love that we’re going on vacation. This beach is beautiful. Come let us frolic and order sea-side drinks. Wait, I have to go back to the room, I forgot to bring my book. This is so interesting, honey; check it out, In 1832…

And so it continued. The tiki menu marked his progress all through the vacation. However, 156 pages later, our accountant friend finds himself returned home, back in the rat race of life. And Johnson’s book just sits there, clutter accumulating around it. The desire to learn about the onset of the modern era just doesn’t have the same appeal that it did in the bookstore. Too much time has passed since the vacation and the book is just so damn big! The clutter continues. Then our accountant spontaneously combusts and his wife sells back all of his stuff the end

One Foot in Babylon - Doctor Jones Mix Sequence #23

2011-10-29T14:06:00.005-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=N953KFDZ

This mix is the closest of any that have come to being a kind of narrative. As I general approach to sequence construction I aim for some kind of overall character with the hope that each stands apart from the others. With One Foot In Babylon, I hear a story; a gritty one with a promising start and a bleak outcome; a future society, streaming technology, information. Gradually, these wonders are abused. Then there are giant sentient mechanical chugging perversions; borderline steampunk, though just as garish but not as, y'know, lame. An end brings a new dark and twisted dawn.

This Happened

2011-09-24T20:47:00.000-04:00

My Kids in Essence

2011-09-20T15:00:00.001-04:00

Presented herein is a series of snapshots attempting to get my kids to hold still and formally pose for an informal text message to gramma and grampa; or would it be designated a text message with an image attachment? It is interesting how "text(-ing)" is now a predicating verb that denotes the action of transmitting quick spats of communication, be it actual text, or of image files, or even both. "txt me a pic" does not sound queer.

Like trying to photograph fuzzy kittens, my kids have proven to be just as tricky to capture on film - I mean, memory card. Notice the ever-present motion blurs.
Take #1: Ok, wait. no wait. Quiet! Sit next to your sister and... *SNAP*
Take #2: *SNAP* Ok, that was a good one. Babes, your face is betraying your flatulence so... Let's try again
Take #3: Ok, says cheese for gramma and grampa. Say Che...-Noo, sit back up. You're only encouraging him! Ah screw it *Snap*

The true moment, you could call it, is observed when these three snapshots are considered as one; a moment far more sincere than some stressed and unnatural pose; the moment when the empirical evidence is enough to confidently declare: My kids like each other. And as a parent still mucking my way through learning by experience, their relationship is a welcomed relief. They have their own special brother-sister dynamic, tightly-knit. When I hear them cooperatively playing in the other room, I dare not infringe because there is no place for me. Even when things get dicey, I keep an attentive distance and let the matter sort itself out. Siblings need their own time, their own methods of interaction and resolution - even if the resolution may be a deliberate shriek that sends your big brother scampering off like a spooked weasel. So, if it gets worse as they get older, do me a favor and keep quiet about it. Let me be an ignorant parent by savoring these moments.

Opeth - "The Devil's Orchard"

2011-09-18T21:32:00.005-04:00

If this new track is any indication of a shift in musical approach then I welcome the new album with open arms. Opeth's last two albums are far too contrived. The tracks are way too expansive, leaving precious little to sink ones teeth into. I couldn't even finish Ghost Reveries; instead I switched over to Blackwater Park and everything was alright. And with Watershed... I became acutely aware that something was amiss; that under the threat of become overly-bloated Opeth needed to do something, anything . And with this video below, we hear the favorable results of such a corrective maneuver. It's musical, colorful, spacious, and does not have a running time over the 11-minute mark. Opeth reached deep for this one, rescuing themselves from certain stagnation. Now, with the experience of self-resuscitation we just need to get these guys to slap some sense into Clutch.

Yesterday's Corn

2011-09-16T21:36:00.002-04:00

The sign board outside the general purpose room reads Pity Party. This is where they squeeze in to commend each other for their lives of strain and struggle. Yes. This is where they seek the praise needed to push forward; where they discuss their common enemy, and evaluate new ways of existing. Yes, hard times, yes.

The beginning, at the top of the hour; this is when they pair off. By either pre-destiny or calculated maneuver, the general lump of pity is divided and each person selects another, the pair then forming their own precious sphere of pity. Blushed faces are cupped in angel soft hands. Strained, sympathetic gazes are matched. Tears squirt forth onto four dollar beaded necklaces, and collars and shoulder pads are smeared with sobbing mascara.

- Oh, me, oh, my: I know, I know.

- My life has more meaning than most people because I’ve struggled: I know, I know.

- I learned the old fashioned way, not because I was old fashioned but because I was poor: I know, I know.

- I grew up in a rough spot in town; therefore, this gives me the innate right to chime in at inappropriate times during class discussion to tell a story or share a bit of my wisdom even if it has no relevance to the subject matter, because people know I’ve had it hard and want to hear what I have to say: I know, I know.

The love-energy from these communions grows so intense that gravity is soon defied. Pairs will eventually levitate in their own pity bubbles. The harder they grip, the harder they sob, the higher they float. Soon after, their bowels glow with an aura of righteous light. Yes, a golden light that beams upward and bursts forth from upturned eye sockets and open mouths. The room quakes at the power. The ceiling lights flicker out and there the pity party hang, drowning in the drone of pity, awash in the light of each other’s bubble guts - flushing away all that bad juju.

Eventually things will calm down. The metaphysical power of pity abates and the ceiling lights timidly come back to life. Feet are returned to this raw and tyrannical reality. Folding chairs are placed; they moan under the under the pressure of usage. Accompanied by the scattered sniffles and delicate sobs left over from the ascension, the Pity Party president goes to the lectern: Welcome, sisters. Any visitors? Please stand and introduce yourself. Usually more than a couple will stand and wipe, swabbing tears from their faces as they say how thrilled they are to be here and what a release it has been so far. Sometimes others opt to remain seated on their thrones, either by choice or physical infirmity (more commonly a dramatic approach to the latter) and lean to either side to ensure being witnessed. As always, the newcomers are warmly welcomed.

The Pity Party president will then usually read from the announcement sheet which is usually extensive. They are usually of benign importance, just an opportunity to hear her own voice. At length, she can tell that she’s been there for too long because her legs become tingly; the Pity Party must proceed.

Most meetings will have a special speaker, usually one of the regulars who invited herself ahead of time to do so. She is received warmly. Topics usually involve oppression and the ever-present common enemy. One speech was given the stirring title ‘The Emotional Woman Trying to Define Herself’; another was ‘Breaking the Masculine Mold”. The speaker chronicles her hardships, usually beginning in childhood, and usually involves the saintly presence of mothers and how they worked fingers to the bone and never complained and how that way of life has always been an influence. The listeners will bob their heads in agreement, a perpetual zen pool of pity. Afterwards, the microphone is made available to anyone who seeks praise from the entire group. This… This is the real happening. Immediately, a line forms and snakes through the oval room, double-backing on itself, eventually peeping out the door a little bit - and even from this distant place, praise is still shouted; the potency from which emanates through the entire building. A profound thought from the lectern quivers its way through the ranks of pity until the very end of the line. Yes, through all the churning, these gems come out unscathed. They are all alike. Once a member is finished with her oratory, she leaves. Life must continue onwards, y’see. The party abandons a multi-purpose room littered with used tissue and program outlines whose corners are fold over and held fast with wads of chewing gum. A maintenance man comes in, contorts his face, waves the air before his nose, and opens a window. “Lord, have mercy!”

The Killingfields of Parenthood; or, How I Cope - Part 1 of n

2011-09-01T21:38:00.004-04:00

I was ignorant before parenthood; completely oblivious to the psychological prowess of – where it stands now – a three and a half year old, and how this child has the subtle and devastating ability to cripple me down to a blubbering sociopath, only to then strut off like it was business as usual. It is amazing what one word can do to a man.

Up until the birth of our first child I fancied myself an individual with confidence, surety, self-control – Iron-will, if you will. I was able to walk away from confrontation; my fuse was long and tightly-woven. But oh, how quickly these assumptions – for assumptions they were – failed to withstand the might of one Mitchell Robert. Within two weeks, these falsities of character were stripped away, leaving behind a raw, quivering thing. And then, in this condition I found myself on the frontlines of an ongoing battle of wits. Indeed, it goes without saying that children have the ability to push grownups - fully maturated and intelligent sentient beings - to limits he/she didn’t even know existed… And then the kid enters the game-changing toddler phase. Before Toddlerdom, parenthood was merely an endurance contest. Like pushing your hand into a piece of stretched rubber, so too is your mental strength extended to agonizing proportions. But, this is just an elementary strategy of attrition and resistance; your kid pushes, you push back – at length someone will give out.

But then the child’s cognition develops further, character becomes defined. Yes. At three and a half years old the child has added a new devastating tactic. Moving beyond the tactic of resistance, moving beyond sleep deprivation, things will then get psychological – he starts messing with you. And this… this is where things get perilous. He confidently maneuvers himself with tactical precision, constantly on the lookout for a positional advantage. Oh my.

While I am under no illusion that the universal characteristic of toddlers is that of stubbornness and antagonism, it has always been my belief that my kid is wired different: not abnormally, not incorrectly – Just different; that there is some quirk in his neural circuitry that elevates him to something higher, something apart, from the other children. I’ll see your 3 year old, and raise you one diabolical genius. This is the story of a man - a father - broken and under the boot of his three year old son.

Bad Dream - "Black Blizzard", Yawining Man - "Digital Smoke Signal"

2011-08-31T20:57:00.004-04:00

Music posts have not been as prevalent these past couple of months - if ever, in retrospect - here at Doctor Jones. This will change.
This will change, now.

The Calvin Paradox

2011-08-29T20:28:00.002-04:00

Go on 'till you come to the end; then stop.
- Lewis Carroll

I'm Already There

2011-08-24T15:47:00.002-04:00

Oddments-Turned-Bookmarks

2011-08-16T16:21:00.007-04:00

This find is a bit of a coincidence since I too am in the process of being retrofitted for new lenses. According to Eye Masters, my current prescription is a step too strong for my precious far-sighted eyes, resulting in inconvenient eye aches after reading for an extended period of time. These aches first came to my attention several weeks ago while reading Saul Bellow’s Herzog. At first I thought Bellow’s narrative too advanced, too dense, too mind-blowingly awesome for my pwecious wittle bwain to handle. But, in all, it turned out that I’ve been walking around wearing the wrong Rx for the past four years, culminating into the irksome headaches of the past couple of weeks.

Perhaps Allison *…*’s case was different. Poor Allison. There she was, afflicted with Amblyopia, completely devoid of depth perception: Shouting at the dinner table when a 12-inch voice would suffice; grasping for a slice of pizza seven feet away; gazing through binoculars at the pages of a book fifteen inches away. Something had to be done.

So she went to visit Dr. at Vision Center.

There she received a professional assessment and departed with this new prescription. Success! The new lenses and lovely turtle-shell frames marked a turning point in Allison’s life. She was so excited that she immediately made way to the store and bought the very first item on her wishlist: Saul Bellow’s Ravelstein. But modern medical practices cannot anticipate human error. In her rush of excitement, Allison slipped the Rx just inside of the front cover, instead of the bookstore’s receipt – putting the later in an envelope of important documents secured to her hip. Suddenly, on the way back to her car, a pack of Kodiak bears rush Allison. But she’s able to fight them off because she’s a ninja, dropping Ravelstein in the process. The bears run off, Allison flees, and then some bystander finds the book – and the Rx – and sells it to the Half-Priced bookstore on the other side of town. He made $.17, the bears ate from a honey pot, and Allison was robbed of reading Saul Bellow.

This Happened

2011-08-06T19:24:00.002-04:00

One-Thousand Gospels - Doctor Jones Mix Sequence #23

2011-07-23T11:29:00.005-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=HMJ8YWWR

Nature has many tricks wherewith she convinces man of his finitiy, - the ceaseless flow of the tides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long roll of heaven's artillery, - but the most tremendous, the most stupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All movement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass... Strange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things strives for utterance. And the fear of death, of God, of the universe comes over him, - the hope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality, the vain striving of imprisoned essence, - it is then, if ever, man walks alone with God.

"The White Silence"
- Jack London

From the Hills

2011-07-13T22:49:00.000-04:00

Kalkrut slowed himself to a halt.

Ankle deep in bubbling sludge, he drew a desperate wheezing breath, filling his giant lungs with the miasmal swamp air. He straightened from a stoop and adjusted the harness that came over his bare shoulders. Arcing backwards – as far as the oblong crag would allow – sounded out a rapid sequence of hollow pops. Barrel-chested and reaching out to either side, Kalkrut grabbed hold of Cyprus trees. They moaned and bowed to his strength, the intertwining root system holding fast. Veins throbbed from his blushed temples, flanking his empty, intense glare. After a few moments his mind began to gasp. Swollen bubbles of thought segregated and distanced themselves ever upward from the core. Each passing second carried a new, fancier, deeper microcosm of veiled meaning. Muted shades then heaved and warped, soon threatening to sprawl out and smother his consciousness. Instinctively, he let up and exhaled with great resolve, boring a hole through the dense fog. With another breath his better judgment swirled to unity. The weight returned. Kalkrut’s glazed eyes witnessed the fog fill in and once again become homogenous with the stifling blur that was all around. The omni-drone of insects intensified.

He sensed there was still a great distance to go. This notion weighed on his mind while the cellophane air was sapping his strength and the gunk in his lungs churned ever hotter and the limestone mocked continually and sadness jerked his face taut. His hands clenched in frustration at the ends of his trembling arms. Feelings of rebellion sizzled through every criss-crossed fiber of his hulking physique. Kalkrut’s mind flashed with scenes of rallying cries and gory retribution; when might shall overcome intellect in hoary conflict; when the united roar of triumph will mask the dwindling screams of terror. And just then he blinked, quickly recalling the super-charged slave band locked around his neck - a band that could easily encircle two or three of his puny captors. Even if Kalkrut had had the strength to remove the rock and hurl it far into the swamp he would still have no choice but to continue following the setting sun – the smeared mirage that it is, hovering above the dark sketches of tree branches – to the building site. Once there, he’d have to fumble through explaining why he arrived with an empty harness; an offense whose consequences are far more callous than trudging through a bog with a two ton chunk of limestone strapped to your back. Likewise, at this thought, Kalkrut’s static condition caused the slave band to sound a curt warning. Likewise, his static condition made it that much easier for the swamp to claim his weakening and impressive weight.

He ran a hand down his bald head and flicked globs of sweat into the murk. He slowly closed his eyes, took another deep breath, strained, pulled a bare foot out of the bog’s stubborn suction and took a stride forward, chasing away the swamp’s hungry ripples.

A Pictoral Preview of Next Month's Mixtape

2011-06-26T22:06:00.004-04:00

An Absurdly Over-Ambitious-and-Lofty Term Paper Prospectus

2011-06-10T11:31:00.001-04:00

“Wakefield”, Nathaniel Hawthorne’s short piece – or how we’ll refer to it at this juncture – is as engaging as it is confounding. It is a psychological piece that utilizes adroit narrative power to prompt the reader to elevated thinking. It is a systematic sequence of words that maneuvers itself on many planes, blurring the lines between sketch and tale and beyond. Within deterministic and labyrinth-like boundaries of “Wakefield” there also lies the enigmatic presence of free will – a setting that we all, at some point or another, feel apart of in this crazy thing called life.

It has been suggested by some that “Wakefield” can be considered an “Illustrated Idea”; A structure composed of an essay-like statement of concept followed by dramatized illustration – and, I like this. It has also been posited that the piece can be considered another one of Hawthorne’s allegories. But, at an extreme level, and considering the text itself, seeing “Wakefield” as an allegory seems too pithy: Solitude makes a person an “Outcast of the Universe”. I propose that there are greater, more significant things at work here - fundamental, philosophical ideas that effect our interactions with the world. Yes. This is about thinking, reasoning, our essence, what separates mankind from dumb beasts. “Wakefield” is Hawthorne embracing the concept of the written word to elevate man’s awareness.

Using the news story of a man abandoning his wife for 20 years (only to return as if from a days absence), Hawthorne’s narrator summarizes the story and then imagines it in detail, hoping to appeal to the “general sympathies of man.” The narrator invites us, the readers, to consider the summary of the news story and come to our own conclusions right there in the piece’s second paragraph; or, we can tag along with the narrator as he imagines the story of Wakefield and together we can work out a moral. Naturally, we continue onward through the narrator’s imagination. But he details with a skillful, seductive, ambiguous and sometimes flat-out contradictory manner that some readers of “Wakefield” may find themselves no better off - no more enlightened - than the title character was during his thoughtlessly executed “whim-wham”.

It is in the examination of the narrator’s treatment of the subject matter – of the dramatized illustration – that we can glimpse the magnitude of what Hawthorne is doing with “Wakefield.” The piece’s technical merit is what elevates and inspires the reader. In researching, it will be necessary to branch out and consult fellow-thinkers in other disciplines such as logic and even epistemology. Likewise, visiting other artisans of narrative structure would help inform this developing argument of text and the necessity of awareness. In a critical approach, we can, perhaps, join beside the many scholarly articles of interpretation of “Wakefield”. The majority of these view different symbolic aspects of the story, touching on themes like Solitude, and Mid-life journeys. While these are worthwhile approaches and useful to filling in details, I suggest that we take a step back and look at the text itself – to see it as a suspended multi-colored Spirograph design, a perpetual work that has no ending nor beginning, but arcs out and returns back to its center.

A Plethora of Pesky Mr. Popper's Penguins Poster

2011-06-06T16:22:00.007-04:00

If one has been out and about lately then it shall become quickly apparent, and delightful to assume, that a new motion picture is set to open on June 17, though the release year is not presented. As if at every turn we are goaded with giddiness by the ever-presence of advertisements for the film called Mr. Popper's Penguins. Mr. Popper will be portrayed by, I trust, one Jim Carrey; in which reasoning brings us to the conclusion that this pictorial display is, in fact, one that represents a motion picture and not, say, one for a culinary seminar about the exquisite and delectable penguin. I reckon that Mr. Popper will find himself in a lighthearted 80-to-90-minute situation where, sitting on a bar stool and in front of a white backdrop, he shall be accompanied by many penguins (as signified by their cluttering presence in the posters) that will nuzzle and nip at his face while he looks on into the camera with a mild quizzical expression - as if wondering just what am I to do with all these pesky penguins?

...exerpt of a High School graduation speech

2011-06-04T17:55:00.001-04:00

and as we look forward with the memories of the past still fresh in our minds and the emotions and enthusiasm still fueling our passion, it's important to remember that this not the end but rather the beginning - the true initiation - to each of our diverging paths of our lives in which all that we've learned in this High School and the outstanding practices developed herein will help guide us each toward achievement and success and fulfillment and all the highs and lows that come with the journey of life and then you'll die and poop yourself afterward because our bodies do stuff like that.

Blood and Whispers and the Balance Therein

2011-06-03T23:29:00.014-04:00

Stirring thought processes going on here...

The Name of the Rose is Umberto Eco’s first novel, published in 1980. It is, essentially, a whodunnit set in an abbey in 13^th century northern Italy. Eco is part historian – part architect – part literary theorist – all awesome. Therefore, one can assume and trust that the material for this book has been meticulously researched and creatively presented. Yes. Truly, a great read – one of those quintessential “hard-to-put-down”-ers - Very appealing. It has been a fantastic way to celebrate the beginning of summer. However, with great resolve I am abandoning The Name of the Rose, and I’m doing it for several reasons. First, reading a novel of this magnitude requires utmost dedication and consistency. This I upheld for two weeks, making my way to the book’s 550-page half-way point. But I have since been distracted by other matters. Days have now gone by since revisiting my friends at that certain medieval Italian abbey. There are heavy things on my mind and I am unable to allot my faculties to these deserving logician monks. They are now strangers of whom I have been removed emotionally, however little. Momentum has been lost. The second reason being that I’m taking the “Studies in American Literature: American Gothic” course this summer, and I will not attempt to mingle these reading duties. It’s one or the other at this point. The likes of Hawthorne, Poe, Melville, James are priority. Plus, it may be a disservice to my precious – oh so precious – intellect to be sloshing together the grounded logical methods of Brother William with the internal dialog of Poe’s characters – characters driven by the logic of madness. Being a parent of a 3 y/o and 5 m/o churns my brain into cream corn enough as it is.

The next reason is that I am stirred by this following excerpt, which just so happens to be the conclusion of the last chapter I’ve read of The Name of the Rose, and therefore a good place to end:

“True,” I said, amazed. Until then I had thought each book spoke of things, human or divine, that lie outside of books. Now I realized that not infrequently books speak of books: it is as if they spoke among themselves. In the light of this reflection, the library seemed all the more disturbing to me. It was then the place of a long, centuries-old murmuring, an imperceptible dialogue between one parchment and another, a living thing, a receptacle of powers not to be ruled by a human mind, a treasure of secrets emanated by many minds, surviving the death of those who had produced them or had been their conveyors.

“But then, “ I said, “what is the use of hiding books, if from the books not hidden you can arrive at the concealed ones?”

“Over the centuries it is no use at all. In the space of years or days it has some use. You see, in fact, how bewildered we are.”

“And is a library, then, an instrument not for distributing truth but for delaying its appearance?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“Not always and not necessarily. In this case it is.”

Indeed. My thoughts turn to my own personal library; imagining that the occupants of these bookshelves whisper and murmur, but do so against me. Here are all these newly-acquired books, purchased at Half-Price or at even greater discount from what the dust jacket or back cover suggests, covering subjects and ideas that I’m interested in. Others are long standing members, authors whose style and content fuel my own personal endeavors into the written word. All of these parchments stand side by side and look out at their owner. What do they observe? The results of which Nibley whispers to Borges who relays to Hawthorne who motions to Hesse who romanticizes to Thompson who contorts to Aristotle, and back again, criss-crossing between upper and lower shelf. Yes, these books murmur. And they do so, in part, against all of those library books that fill my school bag – The Name of the Rose included. Why spend the cash on books only to turn around and sign out others? Illogical. For this reason, I shall return all library materials and give attention to my own humble, mini-library.

Rose is good stuff - It has perked my curiosity in, among other things, medieval heresy and into an overall survey of this history of Northern Italy. It was gratifying to recognize the times when Eco incorporate his theories of semiotics into the plot. But where my interest in these subjects are now just light-hearted whims of fancy, there are other topics, now more concrete, that occupy my mind. Style, rhetoric, semantics, logic, critical theory, self-discipline: These books know this, and they are eager for their owner to web together the knowledge therein – perhaps, even, make a graduate career out of whatever the process of such a webbing may entail. And also for this reason do they grumble. I must appease them.

But, as attractive as books may seem, one mustn’t let them clutter his or her conscience. Consider, then, one of my favorite quotes; a personal law by Hermann Hesse, one whose message is far more critical in application than anything any book may suggest or whisper in advice to another.

“I do not consider myself less ignorant than most people. I have been and still am a seeker, but I have ceased to question stars and books. I have begun to listen to the teachings my blood whispers to me. My story is not a pleasant one; it is neither sweet nor harmonious, as invented stories are; It has the taste of nonsense and chaos, of madness and dreams—like the lives of all men who stop deceiving themselves.”

This Happened

2011-05-27T11:26:00.002-04:00

The Story So Far...

2011-04-08T22:02:00.002-04:00

Ok. Check it out.

There are four specific years that you must remember: 1885, 1955, 1985, 2015.

No, really, this is neat! This is a story that explores the fabric of reality. It touches on the very core of things – of everything!

Currently, it is 1955 and you’re seeing the Marty from 1985 and the Doc Brown of 1955. With the help of this Doc Brown from 1955, Marty must travel back to 1885 to rescue to the Doc Brown from 1985, who was accidentally struck by lighting in this 1955; thus overloading the flux capacitor in the DeLorean time machine that was hover-converted in 2015 – yes, 2015.

Well, here’s what happened – At the beginning of the second/previous movie, the Marty from 1985 had just gotten back to 1985 after being trapped for a week in 1955, all with the help of the Doc Brown from 1955. So, the Doc Brown from 1985 came blasting in with the DeLorean all in a tizzy about Marty coming back to the future with him – back to 2015. Still with me? So, Marty and Doc Brown from 1985 go back to 2015 to keep Marty’s son from joining the grandson Biff (the trilogy’s bad guy(s)) in a robbery. While in 2015, Marty buys a sports almanac with the intent of placing bets once he and Doc Brown get back to 1985. The catch is that the grandpa Biff of 2015 obtains the almanac, sneaks off with the DeLorean and travels back to 1955 to give the book to his teenage 1955 self.

Here’s where things get dicey. At length, Doc and Marty from 1985 return to 1985 from 2015, only to find that this 1985 is an alternate version of their home time of 1985. In this alternate 1985, Biff is rich and powerful and the head tyrant of a mass dystopia. This fortune was made overtime because of the successful delivery of the sports almanac from the Grandpa Biff of 2015 to the teenage Biff of 1955 in 1955. So now, in order to correct this tragedy, Marty and Doc from the home time of 1985 leave this alternate 1985 and go back to 1955 to reclaim the sports almanac from the teenage Biff of 1955; but only after the Grandpa Biff of 2015 returns the DeLorean to 2015 to help prevent two time machines being in 1955. The problem is that this story now overlaps with the story of the first movie – where the Doc from 1955 is helping the Marty of 1985 get back to 1985, not the alternate 1985. If the Doc from 1955 were to see this Doc from 1985, and if the Marty from 1985 were to see… the Marty from 1985, Doc predicts that…

…the encounter could create a time paradox, the results of which could cause a chain reaction that would unravel the very fabric of the space time continuum, and destroy the entire universe! Granted, that's a worse case scenario. The destruction might in fact be very localized, limited to merely our own galaxy.

Yes, I have that memorized. Yes, he actually says it like that.

No, hear me out. Really, it’s a really cool story.

Fine, change the channel.

Fear and Loathing in Sentence Diagramming

2011-03-24T22:55:00.005-04:00

Paul is Barefoot

2011-03-19T22:08:00.004-04:00

If there is a time when I can declare myself the biggest The Beatles fan, it happens during this song. If there is a piece of short animation that inspires me to want to learn how to use Flash!, it is seen here . If there is a singular experience so suave and agreeable that it makes you feel a’ight, it would be in your best interest to jump in head first. Good stuff, man. Good stuff.

I'm a (unaware) Copycat

2011-03-17T08:17:00.006-04:00

Exhibit A:
ManCalledSun's (under the current moniker of "Doctor Jones") July '09 Mixtape Cover

Exhibit B:
Melt Banana's Teeny Shiny album cover

Whoops.
I thought the mixtape cover looked vaguely familiar... *shrugging emoticon*

Laughing at Laughing

2011-03-12T20:59:00.003-05:00

I thought this was hilarious 20 years ago, and still do today. Quality stuff.

Notes from Contemporary Non-Fiction workshop

2011-03-06T20:34:00.002-05:00

- Personal essays don't have to be about personal experience
- Free from objective parameters of academic writing
- Seizing opportunities to describe stuff
- Themes that are inherent in the situation
- Walking up to the door and then doing an about-face
- Explore something by looking at something else
- Stick to the personal experience to negotiate the politics of the essay
- The painter stops smelling fumes after a while
- It could easily be crap
- Entertainment-to-truth spectrum
- A piece heightened by the literal gravity
- The unbalance between whats offered and what could be offered
- ... so that the reader knows that you'll meet him in the middle somewhere
- The application of all things
- Less 'taking care of it' and more of 'existing within it'
- Blunt Fashion
- It's a big step, but not in her world
- A TV interviewee looking into the wrong camera
- Modulated imagery
- Understanding the merit of an experience
- David Foster Wallace-ise it

As the London Lamps Do - March 2011 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2011-03-04T23:10:00.004-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=11DY31CS

But first let me gaze at this solitary figure, who come hitherward with a tin lantern, which throws a circular pattern of its punched holes on the ground about him. He passes fearlessly into the unknown gloom, whither I will not follow him... He fears not the dreary path before him, because his lantern, which was kindled at the fireside of his home, will light him back to that same fire again. And thus we, night-wanderers through a stormy and dismal world, if we bear the lamp of Faith, enkindled at a celestial fire, it will surely lead us home to that Heaven whence its radiance was borrowed.

Nathaniel Hawthorne

This video has ruined my life

2011-02-25T16:19:00.004-05:00

...and I blame Kevin. A week ago, he posted this on Facebook and I watched it, and my life has been upside down ever since. I am not in control of myself, as if I have been possessed. It is hell. I blame Kevin.

So, there I was, 3AM, humming an Acid King riff to my newborn - successfully lulling her to sweet, precious sleep - when, out of nowhere I break out and start singing the pizza song at the appropriate pitch. She woke up.

There I was, reading Benjamin Franklin’s autobiography, rejoicing in his civic accomplishments and feeling inspired to strive to be a better American, when all of a sudden the momentum was broken by the hankering to order a pizza topped with fish sticks and whipped cream.

There I was, in the CMA auditorium, enshrouded in the exotic voice of Yasmin Levy, being whisked away on the tides of Spanish Jewry and riding back through hundreds of years of beautiful Mediterranean tradition… Only to have my journey interrupted by the mental image of five young girls bopping around in slow motion, spelling P-I-Z-Z-A.

There I was, immersed in learning the skill of sentence diagramming, struggling with determining whether this or that noun phrase is adjectival or the object compliment, only finding it terribly difficult to concentrate because I kept hearing voices – oh, the drowsy voices! – singing about pushing the limits of pizza creation.

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

2011-02-19T11:38:00.007-05:00

Val & Earl - from the feature film Tremors

Tremors is an awesome movie about giant carnivorous underground worms that hunt in Perfection Valley, Nevada. Val & Earl are gruff handymen who assist the few permanent citizens of Perfection in monotonous, low-paying grunt jobs. They fancy that they are shortchanging themselves, and after a colorful mishap with a sump pump they decide to pull up stakes and move to a more populated town to search for better occupational opportunities and a thorough live-in maid. These plans are thwarted by the realization that there are four frikkin gigantic subterranean man-eating worms (“Graboids”) spread throughout the valley, devouring livestock and licensed Doctors. Now Val & Earl must lend a hand to the rest of the citizens of Perfection Valley to eliminate this dangerous threat.

See, we plan ahead, that way we don’t have to do anything right now

I wanna hang out with Val & Earl so that, when the time is right, I will sacrifice myself for them, to allow myself to be gobbled up by the mutant Graboids, so that they may live on and be prosperous. Granted, as evident in the sequel, they actually do live on and make a fortune off of the franchising royalties from the products based on the events of the original movie. But allow me this; allow me to re-write history and be the martyr for these sterling, foul-mouthed gentlemen. Let’s say I’ve been hanging out with Val & Earl for a couple of years, right? We inhabit the same trailer, guzzle the same cheap beer and holler lewd things at women. We laugh and slap each other on the back. We’re so chummy. We also work! We work hard! We’re a dynamic and tight-knit power trio with potential for great things. Then the Graboids come. Ultimately, we find ourselves cornered in a clamorous situation and find that that potential for great things is in jeopardy.

What the samhell blippity bloppity do we do? Earl exclaims

Fuzzy bunny ketchup packets, this is some serious hibbidy jibbidy! Val despairs.

I say nothing. I close my eyes and find my ch’i. I then stride forward, heading to certain destruction. Val & Earl recognize my intention and are overwhelmed with gratitude. They lean on each other and begin to sing a sonorous rendition of Ave Maria. Time slows and the clamor fades as I continue walking the warrior’s path. At length, I come to a halt on the dusty dirt road. I spread my arms and tilt my head back. A Graboid bursts forth from the ground beneath my feet. The momentum behind its ascent is so great that the mutant worm rises into the air; my lower body fastened in its mouth, my torso exposed and surrounded by a golden aura, my head eclipsing the sun. Filaments of angelic beings swoop and swirl. During the descent, the Graboid slurps me in like a strand of sphegetti. I single tear streaks down my cheek. And I am gone. Val & Earl seize the opportunity and make a run for it, sobbing with gratitude. They live on and become prosperous.

… And then I’ll be reincarnated and do the same for Bill & Ted.

...and Suchlike Wonders - February 2011 Mixtape Brigade

2011-02-02T11:37:00.003-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=TUYVU217

They turned their horses up the ridge, which was crowned with the dark pines. The first trees stood deployed like outposts. Their trunks were as straight as masts, and the bark was purple in the shade. The ground under them, deep and spongy with brown needles, supported no grass. The grove was quiet except for a little whispering wind. Birds took no pleasure in the pines, and the brown carpet muffled the sound of walking creatures. The horsemen rode in among the trees, out of the yellow sunlight and into the purple gloom of the shade.

“Be still a moment, Tom,“ Joseph said languidly. “There’s something here. You are afraid of it, but I know it. Somewhere, perhaps in an old dream, I have seen this place, or perhaps felt the feeling of this place.” He dropped his hands to his sides and whispered, trying the words, “This is holy – and this is old.”

- John Steinbeck

Mitchell in the Mornings: Scenario #2 of 2

2011-01-29T21:12:00.000-05:00

*~~*BING*~~*

I. Am. Awake!

Yeeeow! It’s time to announce to my family and the neighbors downstairs that I am now beginning my day. I’m gonna get out of bed and run up and down the hallway a bunch of times. Now, I’m gonna do it some more! Now, I’m gonna go make sure that Daddy is awake and knows that I’m awake and knows that I like running up and down the hallway a bunch of times.

Aha! He is none of the above. Now, I’m gonna climb up on the bed and jump up and down and talk loudly and sing nonsensical lyrics and ram my head like a baby lion into his shoulder blades.

Oh! I’m sure the vertical blinds in the living room are drawn. Now, I’m gonna run down the hallway into the living room and run my hands across the blinds and continue to sing nonsensical lyrics while doing so.

Well, hey, while I’m out here: Now, I’m gonna jump off of the couch and land (maybe) on the beanbag. I love how the floor rumbles when I land. I love that sound so much I’m gonna do it again! It’s neat how my loud voice and the rumble of the floor compliment each other and fills the entire audio spectrum.

Hey! I wonder if Daddy is out of bed yet. Now, I’m gonna run back down the hallway to check. Well, considering how much I love to run up and down the hallway, I’m gonna do it a couple more times before checking to make sure Daddy is awake - and then, if he’s not, I’m gonna sit on his head and sing “Twinkle-Twinkle Little Star” because I’m so frikkin’ spunky!

Pictorial Preview of Febuary's Mixtape

2011-01-14T20:29:00.007-05:00

...When the smoke beings eased into the abandoned Frontier Land Settlement...

Stuff That Falls Out of Books I Flip Through at Half-Priced Books

2011-01-11T00:25:00.006-05:00

I reckon that this will be an ongoing theme on Doctor Jones because 1) Half-Priced Books is totally, unearthly awesome and 2) Trinkets-turned-bookmarks will occasionally catch me by surprise as I browse, making it difficult not to muse and wonder. It’s a spice of life that is another example of the benefit that Half-Priced Books serves to all of humanity.

This little guy was in the first edition (1979) edition of The Great Shark Hunt, a collection of writings by Hunter S. Thompson that were printed in various periodicals between 1964 through 1978. I love HST. His prose is sharp, temperamental, irreverent, and bubbles with acidic sass. And while I acknowledge and accept the neon aura of unrepentant drug use that surrounds and influences his work, I find it disconcerting how legions of fanboys and geekfags only cling to - and relentlessly recycle - this surface fact; He’s the guy that wrote Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, y’know. Such an approach to Thompson’s work is amateur and foolish, albeit, the most popular.

This is why, at length, it comes as no surprise to find a ticket stub to a Grateful Dead concert in one of his books; a $23.50 ticket in the “upper/side” of Grand-Whatever-Arena in WhereverTown, USA. Indulge me a judgment, but I think it is safe to assume that this was some hob knob that gobbled up cheap acid thinking the concert experience will open all kinds of portals in the aether, passageways to rapturous unifying existences, only, I’m willing to bet, he ultimately found himself staring into the fuming and swirling portal to the city sewers. This is the same middle-age guy who burned to Aoxomoxoa and drank Wild Turkey while reading Kingdom of Fear.

The ticket has no indication of a date, but considering the admission cost that this chump paid for the nosebleed section we can safely determine that we’re talking no earlier than the 1990’s. After clicking around a website dedicated to GD ticket stubs, passes, and laminates, here’s the closest comparison that I was willing to put forth the effort to find:

For the most part, after 1992 the tickets become flat, glossy and all start to look the same. Charming raised-ink roses bespeckled with glitter became a thing of the past. Likewise, Jerry Garcia eventually croaked. To commemorate this icon of hippie snobbery, Hobknob ticket-stub-man probably sparked a fatty and read aloud works by Ginsberg, Thompson and Wolfe because, at the time, it felt like the right thing to do. Perhaps, in the morning after, he came to his senses, and after a lifetime of bummin’ around he finally straightened up, sold back his vegan cookbooks, denim overalls, and his copy of The Great Shark Hunt – ticket stub and all – and got himself a jobby job.

Mitchell in the Mornings: Scenario #1 of 2

2011-01-06T21:37:00.004-05:00

The vast room has bare parallel walls and vaulted ceilings so that his voice may carry and resonate and flutter, so that he may delight in hearing it, therefore he will nary cease to speak loudly. There are clones of his father, spread throughout, so that an opportunity to argue and be stubborn are plentiful – indeed, never ending. Vats of bathwater are not to be used to wipe away cupcake residue, or the like, from his face, but are for vigorous splashing, accompanied by continuing shouting and singing of nonsensical lyrics. The towels that surround the bathtubs are not for cleaning or drying but are simply meant to remain and become soaked and squishy. Televisions, each presenting a different children’s feature presentation, are also conveniently located throughout the room, each connected to daddy’s expensive headphones so that he, with peanut butter fingers, may put on and hear. Likewise, undressed windows are also at appropriate height to accompany finger smudges and dirty face smears. Place settings of chicken nuggets and French fries are also in abundance, each with a colored [“We went camping, just me and my dad”] plastic cup generously filled with water used for dunking said chicken nuggets. There are also environmental chambers [“I picked the campsite, but someone was already living there…”], each maintained to a steady 38-degrees Fahrenheit, [“…So I gave it back”] where he may freely enter at will and run and frolic in said temperature without a coat.

….Hrrrmmfff. What the? No. No! I want to go back! Please, have pity. Perhaps if I close my eyes and pull my blankets back over my head that wonderful place will once again fill my mind. “We found another campsite nearby. My dad was tired, so I pitched the tent.” Ugh, he’s such a chump thinking that lovingly reading my favorite stories will be a harmless way to lull me out of sleep…

“No, daddy, little critter not go camping.”
“Well, let’s read on and see what happens. Then we can pick out the clothes you’ll wear today – maybe your T-Rex shirt! Ooooh, how does that sound, big guy?”

Y’know, I recognize that he’s speaking but all I hear is ‘blah blah blah please argue and resist everything I’d like you to do this morning.’ Maybe if I curl up in a ball he’ll go away. Perhaps a low-level grumble will be a nice embellishment.

“I wanted to take my dad for a ride in our canoe, but I launched it too hard.”

Seriously, he’s still here? Crap and a half, can’t the dude take a hint? If only wrapping myself tighter in these blankets would cause them to swallow me whole so that my very consciousness will leave this cursed mortal prison and my spirit may soar freely away from this place to be with the birdies and airplanes and fireworks and the – There’s my mommy!

“Mommy Mommy Mommy!” Cursed blankets, get me out of these damn things that I may cling to my mommy, to claim her. “Mommy, hold me. Hold me!” I want you and only you. Only you can hold me and say ‘good morning.’ Only you can do stuff for me: Only you can pick me up; only you can talk about reading little critter and getting dressed; only you can get my yogurt out of the fridge, peel off the foil lid and give me a fun plastic spoon; only you can turn your back to me.

Yes. Only you.

Look at Daddy sitting there on the edge of my bed, looking like a damaged puppy. Better luck tomorrow morning, big guy.

Basilisk Stare - January 2011 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2011-01-04T17:09:00.005-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=G0ABGI7U

When I started this blog I swore that I would never apologize for a “lack of updates”. While I am absolutely tickled that you take the time to read “Doctor Jones” I continually work under the mindset that I owe you exactly diddily squat. The ebb and flow of this blog will swell or abate at my whim, desire and motivation. So, with that, you will receive no apology or justification for my inactivity. In fact, you should be thanking me for this 5-month lull. My schedule this past season has been a strenuous exercise in self-discipline and time management. My efforts were simply placed everywhere but here.

But, just because little has been posted doesn’t mean that my wit and charm hasn’t been skillfully pressed to the face of the grindstone of this crazy thing called life. Indeed, dozens of ideas have been formed and are incubating to maturity, each at different stages of development. “Doctor Jones” is on the brink of a cathartic gushing. Like those egg batches in Aliens, each post and Mixtape is gonna burst forth and hug your face as if nobody’s lookin’. It’ll be good for the both of us. And the facehugging begins now, with this month’s Mixtape. Yes. I’ve had a great deal of mental potential energy building these past few months…“Basilisk Stare” is the release.

Because I'm struggling to use my own words...

2010-12-29T13:07:00.003-05:00

"And let us not forget about elephantiasis, an infestation by microscopic worms that wriggle into the lymphatic system, causing an accumulation of lymph so massive it forces the victim to stumble about on legs the size of tree trunks, carrying his scrotum before him in a wheelbarrow.” - John Gambel

***

Steve Martin: When I was 10 years-old I knew I wanted to make movies, but I knew NO ONE was going to give me that. So, I started putting away one dollar every week of my life. If I missed a week I made it up later - From age 10 on. And now, you're looking at enough to get us started: $2,184

Jamie Kennedy: But, movies cost millions of dollars to make.

Steve Martin: That's after gross-net-deduction-profit-percentage-deferment-10% of the NUT! CASH: Every movie costs $2,184!

***

Bruce Dern: Me, I can barely get my family to eat together; but you - you've got your family dreaming together.

***

"Art is just the last three letters of fart" - One of the guys from The Butthole Surfers, I think.

***

"Mikey! Vulgar!" - Mrs. Roberto

Life Altering Conversation

2010-12-09T10:14:00.002-05:00

Here's a short conversation I overheard several years ago. I'm still coming down from profundity of it:

Eric: ... komodo dragons.
Matt: Aren't they in the desert?
Eric: Nah, the jungle.
Matt: Oh. Well, if you put one in the desert, he'd be there.

All The Happy Accidents - September 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-09-02T09:23:00.004-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=PE0I6FR7

One of the more entertaining aspects of Mixtape creation is to witness how the sequence evolves and ends up in its final state. Normally, I have the authority and power to regulate this evolution and ultimately decide what makes the cut and what doesn't. But, not this month - this one got away from me. This one assembled itself on its own. I fought it at first, trying desperately to cling to the original sonic intent. And again and again, the music continued to take command. What you hear here sounds nothing like what I had set out to create, and, I suppose, everything is all the better for it. I was put in my place. Who would have thought creating a Mixtape could be a humbling experience.

Worthy Surrogate Videos

2010-08-26T19:39:00.005-04:00

I tip my hat to those who were inspired enough by these awesome songs/bands to piece together their own videos. Good stuff, man. Good Stuff.

Grandpa Makes Noises - August 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-08-03T15:55:00.003-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=E8JX025X
A mix perfected with age - and with age, wisdom. It's a slow burner, so don't get too ahead of yourself.

Phaseplane Differential - July 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-07-01T20:26:00.003-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=KI6OUSM9

“What is the human brain?” Orphu asked rhetorically. “I mean, all of us morevecs have a piece of one. What is it like? How does it work? Like the binary or DNA computers we also carry around for thinking purposes?”

“No,” said Cho Li. “We know that the human brain is not like a computer neither is it a chemical memory machine the way the Lost Era human scientists believed. The human brain… the mind… is a quantum-state holistic standing wavefront.”

“Exactly!” cried Orphu. “The post-humans used this intimate understanding of the human mind to perfect their Brane Holes, time travel, and quantum teleportation.”

“I still don’t see how,” said Prime Integrator Asteague/Che

[Orphu]“If you assume an infinite or near-infinite set of alternate universes, then many of these have necessarily been imagined through the sheer force of human genius. Picture them as singularities of genius – Bell-state analyzers and editors of the pure quantum-foam of reality.”

- Quoted from the Dan Simmons novel Olympos

A Hodgepodge of Images

2010-06-05T10:32:00.017-04:00

Our laptop hard drive is a treasure chest. Blogspot is not HTML table friendly. That, and my animated .gifs don't work. Someone do something about this. KTHX.

Weapon Of Choice

2010-06-03T08:52:00.004-04:00

Friends,

At first glance, the assumption is that this blog post is about a pen. Yessir, we’re gonna talk about a pen. But, then again, first glances can be deceiving because this is not just a pen; it is a marvel of engineering, a benchmark of human achievement, an empowering tool of empowerment - Indeed, it is a way of life!

HARK!

The Pilot Precise V7 RT

So, what’s so frikkin special about this… pen? Let’s take a closer look. You may see things that are beyond your understanding, and that’s ok. We’re gonna start at the top and work our way down. Before we even pick it up – as hard as it may be to restrain oneself given its sleek and sexy body – it is necessary to understand the context in which this pen has been given its moniker. “Pilot” is not only the company’s name but its ultimate paradigm, way of thinking, and approach to making superior and totally awesome inscription facilitators. A writing utensil should fill its operator with loyalty, assurance and self-confidence. What makes a pen exceptional is equal parts performance and psychology. Yes. Pilot lets you be the PILOT.

“Precise” signifies that this product was meticulously designed by specialists and not intended for some amateur hob knob to doodle cocknballs on his buddy’s signal processing study guide. NO! This pen is for respectable hob knobs. “V7” is the government’s super secret chemical compound that makes this fast drying ink such a treasure. It would mean certain death… or rather, a convenient fatal accident if I were to divulge anymore information. “RT” is an acronym for the Latin phrase “Reductofidelus Tabulainforudious.” Pilot so cleverly included this in the product’s name because it stands for “Nary a Brainfart to Be Had.” Tee hee. That’s so fun.

Ok, now go ahead and pick it up. Notice how it has almost no weight? That’s because the V7 RT is constructed with the very same exotic alloys that the Predator aliens use to build those mini-croissant-looking projectile thingies; like in Predator 2 when he shot that wicked voodoo henchman in the face – oh man, that part was awesome.

You’ll also notice that the V7 RT has no pen cap. This archaic approach to avoid accidental pen markings has been done away with. Instead, you’ve got a futuristic spring loaded clicker function. This satisfying and empowering mechanism locks into place to ensure that there are no unintentional retractions. What ingenuity! The V7 RT also has a super-welded buckycarbon clip for your convenience; just in case you want to clip the pen to your shirt collar or pocket or lanyard. That’s so thoughtful of Pilot, yes? Likewise, the rubber grip at the base of the pen was developed by NASA. It uses the same gripping material that astronauts use to secure on their spaceman diapers for those long spacewalks. It’s a complex neon polymer that increases the overall comfort of operation. It gives confidence that, while you’re excitedly scribbling down lyrics of injustice and staying true to your peeps the pen won’t fly out of your hand and accidentally dart into a white guy’s eyeball. Yay, everybody wins! As a bonus feature, Pilot built in what they call “Traction Pockets” into the rubber grip. This is where they hide the heroin.

And now we come to the bread and butter of the Pilot Precise V7 RT: The tip and ink. Pilot offers differing tip sizes to accommodate your scribbling style. My preference is the FINE tip. I roll with a fine tip because it is small enough to compliment my cramped and cluttered handwriting, but broad enough that if I need to sketch a big, hearty [FU] over some jerk’s powerpoint printout I can do so with grace and style. Lastly, we must examine what makes the V7 ink such a joy. As a lefty, quick drying ink is essential – ESSENTIAL! There’s nothing more discouraging than having my pristine inspirational thoughts and social innovations get all smudged up because the ink I’m using is made from recycled engine oil or some crap. It makes me second guess myself – and we can’t have that, can we? V7 is also impervious to changes in air pressure, which makes it airplane safe. This works perfectly because now me and Rick Steves can confidently compare and make revisions to our notes during the trip home from the Greek isles. We’ll laugh, share memorable moments… then when he least suspects it, and with terrifying swiftness and force, I will stab him in the chest with my Pilot Precise V7 RT because I frikkin love/hate Rick Steves…

Yessir. The Pilot Precise V7 RT is not just a pen; it is a motivator, an enabler. It is my weapon of choice. It is my co-pilot. It is on my team. Thomas Jefferson wrote tens of thousands of letters in his lifetime. He raised his own flock of geese in order to ensure that he had an ample supply of writing quills. Do yourself a favor and raise your own flock of Pilot Precise V7 RTs. Before you know it you’ll be drafting the next social revolution and stabbing your competition in the chest.

Love,
- Doctor Jones

P.S.
Just because...

Under the Entry Roar - June 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-06-02T10:31:00.002-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=ILBRMRC1

This mix is pretty slick. It’s a submersion into a groovy neon underworld full of weirdo denizens that strut and scurry and do their thang. Don’t be shy - say hello. Ask one of them to do the multi-strobe trick with his fingertips. They’ve all got different visual knickknacks like that. Explore caverns textured with phosphorus filaments; ascend towering structures - naturally formed or otherwise. It’s going to be a place you’ll want to write home about, or, at least, transmit via Alphawave Comm Nodes – if that’s your gig.

Sonically, the mix moves like a thread of smoke. It stretches outwards, curls back into itself, and always intent to rise someplace higher. It’s fun to listen to. A dabble of trip hop, chemical beats, copious headspace, wickedly delicious groove.

Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride

2010-05-18T10:38:00.006-04:00

Reading this book has taken over my life during the past two weeks. Oh my my my! I haven't devoured a book with this much voracity since reading Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas five or six years ago. NOM NOM NOM NOM.

Ilium takes place in an epic (yes, epic) overlap of ancient history and the far, far future. It's a multi-pronged story about Greek gods and goddesses (at least, beings who assume this classical role), the individuals the gods resurrect to have observe their divine influence in progression of The Battle of Troy, Post-Humans and MORAVECS* (*autonomous, sentient, biomechanical organisms seeded throughout the outer solar system by humans during the Lost Age) in the far future who grow weary and concerned with the harmful quantum footprints that these same gods are leaving on space and time from their lavish home on the summit of Mount Olympos - the highest point on a terraformed planet Mars...

Flaring tempers. Honor. Defiance. Luck. Robots obsessed with human literature. Hard Science. Graphic battle narration. Yeah, I'm in it to win it, folks.

Well-written, too - Props to Dan Simmons. You'd think that a story which ping-pongs between 1200 B.C. and some unspecified date in the far future would be a disorienting nightmare of a read. NAY! Simmons has crafted a smooth, textured and fun story to read. I've also gained some awesome insight into how a tale can be told. This is my first exposure to Dan Simmons, but most certainly will not be the last novel of his that I dive into - other than Olympos, the concluding half of this story, that much is a given.

Here's an excerpt from one of my favorite parts of Ilium:

“Open your eyes,” said Savi.

He did so, wildly grabbing the sonie for support with both hands a second later. Everything within his sight had been transformed. The nearby trees he had been ignoring except to borrow their shade were now towering complexities – transparent, layer upon layer of pulsing, living tissue, dead bark, vesicles, veins, dead inner material showing structural vectors and rings with columns of flowing data, the moving green and red of life – needles, xylem, phloem, water, sugar, energy sunlight. He knew that if he could read the flowing data, he would understand exactly the hydrology of the living miracle that was that tree, know exactly how many foot-pounds of pressure it was taking to osmotically raise all that water from the roots – Daeman could look down and see the roots under the soil, see the energy exchange of water from soil into those roots and the long voyage, hundreds of feet, from roots to the vertical tubules raising that water – hundreds of feet vertically! Like a giant sucking from a straw! – and then the lateral motion of the water, molecules of water in pipelines only molecules wide, out along branches fifty, sixty, seventy feet wide, narrowing, narrowing, life and nutrients in that water, energy from the sun…

Daeman looked up and saw sunlight for the discrete rain of energy it was – sunlight striking pine needles and being absorbed, sunlight striking the humus beneath his feet and warming the bacteria there. The world around him was a torrent of information, a tidal wave of data, a million micro-ecologies interacting all at once, energy to energy…

Gasping, almost gagging, Daeman whirled away, trying to shut off this vision, but everywhere was the complexity – the tagged and streaming ebb and flow of energy being passed, nutrients being absorbed, cells being fed, molecules dancing in the transparent trees, and breathing soul and sky ablaze with its rain and surge of sunlight and radio messages from the stars.

Daeman clasped his hands over his eyes, but too late; he’d looked at Savi – the old woman, but also a galaxy of life. Life nested in the flashing neurons of her brain behind that grinning skull and firing like lightning on the string of shocks along her retinal nerve and in the millions upon billions of living forms in her gut, busy and indifferent all, and – trying to look away, Daeman made the mistake of looking down at himself, into himself, past himself at his connection to the air and ground and sky…

“Off!” said Savi; Daeman’s mind echoed the command.

The brilliant midday sunlight bouncing off the trees and needle strewn soil suddenly seemed as dark as midnight to Daeman. His legs ceased to work. Gasping, Daeman slid along the edge of the somie and collapsed to the ground, rolling onto his stomach, arms extended, palms pushed flat, face pressed against pine needles.

Savi crouched next to him and patted his shoulder. “It’ll go away in a minute,” she said softly.
Quoted from Ilium by Dan Simmons

EUIII Muscowy Chapter 2 - The Barbed Web of Diplomacy

2010-05-14T20:45:00.010-04:00

The Grand Campaign
Chapter One - In media Res

Click to play and listen while reading:

Chapter 2: The Barbed Web of Diplomacy

Muscowy, 1511 AD. A nation in the crux of its history. A rising power wedged between Western European technological progression and the advancing might of Asia’s Golden Horde – whose single-minded objective to conquer the European peninsula is impeded in large by the lands of Muscowy.

It has been a frantic ten years, wherein Muscowy has been built through warfare and the powers of diplomatic persuasion. Through the course of events we have become enmeshed in the fabric of local diplomacy. Alliances have been forged. Our enemies continue their tactful opposition. And it is here, through Diplomatic Actions, that Europa Universalis III sets itself apart as a strategy game.

Here are brief descriptions to some of the diplomatic actions relevant to this scenario:

Casus Beli – A legitimate (a term that is used loosely) and just cause for declaring war on another country. Declaring war without a Casus Beli destroys your reputation amongst other countries and quickly earns you a lot of enemies.
Proclaim Guarantee – Gives a Casus Beli against those who declare war on the selected country.
Send Warning – Gives a Casus Beli if the selected country declares war
Royal Marriage – Greatly improves relations between countries. This action may prove to be a messy affair (sometimes intentionally) when either one of the rulers passes away. The consequences are fortuitous but wars of succession are commonplace, as we shall shortly see.

Currently, this is where some of Muscowy’s diplomatic engagements lie.

Our primary concern is nurturing a relationship with Poland. They have come to our aid in the past, and it is critical that we maintain a good standing so that we may not have to face our enemies alone. And as such, it is important to understand that there are two critical aspects to diplomacy: (1) diplomacy can work both ways! And (2) the effects of diplomacy can bring about two unique consequences:

- It can provide unforeseen opportunities of growth that can only be answered by swift and decisive action.
- On the other hand, reactions from diplomatic exchanges can be far-reaching, and the results of which can catch you completely off guard and unprepared.

And currently, interestingly enough, Muscowy finds itself in both situations. As it has happened, through the barbed web of diplomacy we were entangled into being a key player in the:

And this is how diplomacy has caught Muscowy off guard…

Here’s how the lines have been drawn for this conflict: There are two tiers of enemy involvement. The first tier involves a central European powerhouse: France. Throughout this current campaign as Muscowy, Denmark has been frequently sending us requests to enter into a royal marriage, and we’ve always declined. The fact that we are currently in the THIRD war of Danish Succession only proves that this diplomatic action is being abused by Denmark. Regardless, at some point, Poland and Denmark entered into a Royal Marriage. When Denmark’s king passed from this world there was a dispute between whom from which nation shall claim the throne. Poland felt it their right to settle this matter through war. So POLAND declared war on DENMARK. And since Muscowy is allied with them it was our obligation to stand by our friends. At some point in the past FRANCE guaranteed DENMARK’s freedom. And so by involving themselves, France also brings her vassal states PROVINCE, LORRAINE, TRIER. Likewise, AQUILLA, a strong ally of France, was also called to arms.

And this is the pronged threat from the west. Countries in which we have no normal dealings with are now pitted against us because of the Barbed Web of Diplomacy. Luckily, there is enough of a geopolitical buffer between us and them that this poses no real IMMEDIATE threat, but their reputation, might and sudden involvement has caught us off guard.

The second tier of opposition is cause for much greater alarm. It involves the blunt force of our cursed enemies directly to the east: The Golden Horde.

Here is how they wiggled their way into this conflict: The Golden Horde strategically WARNED Poland. Plain and simple. Knowing that Muscowy was allied with Poland and would very likely enter war beside them it is ever apparent that the Golden Horde had their sights on Muscowy this entire time. They too seek conquest. Muscowy is a major obstacle to their progression westward. Even though we have tried to avoid a direct confrontation, alas, through diplomacy we now find ourselves mostly unprepared to fight a war with the Golden Horde's massive armies who are practically kicking down our eastern gates.

Is there a happy ending to this? Indeed. It has been mentioned that diplomacy provides unforeseen opportunities of growth, and that Muscowy currently finds itself in such a position. Hard to believe given how the odds are stacked so heavily against us. But we can - nay – we MUST pull ahead, we must triumph! Our victory involves tactful military maneuvers deep within the Golden Horde’s territory. After which, it will be time for Muscowy to shed its iron cocoon and initiate its formation into the mighty State of Russia!

- Coming soon -
Chapter 3: All on the Line

Dear Brad Copeland,

2010-05-05T11:34:00.002-04:00

If you need a refresh: Flight of the Navigator Rave

Yes, Flight of the Navigator is undoubtedly 80’s. There are some surface elements that can afford to be upgraded, but there are also fundamental human elements that should be left alone. Here are some thoughts.

It is worth noting that the script is being written by Brad Copeland. He is most known for My Name is Earl as well as the movie Wild Hogs. I’ve seen only a couple of episodes of My Name is Earl, and from these select viewings I am filled with hope. However, Wild Hogs was a bummer – so, let’s just pretend that this hogwash of a movie doesn’t exist. Indeed. Let us cling tenaciously to the wit that abounds in the scripts of My Name is Earl and give hope that Copeland will be/currently is in this mindset when writing Flight of the Navigator. If nothing else, I’d like to hope that the charm, sincerity and all-out awesomeness of the original movie would be enough of an inspiration to come up with a stellar script.

It is my impression that the remake, if handled properly, could be, among other things, a crushingly amusing mirror of the fads, people, and events of today; a comedy of the present day, in a classical sense. Therefore, I deem it absolutely necessary that the remake keep the math that is utilized in the original: David loses eight years because of the effects of traveling near the speed of light. This is a significant amount of time in a young man’s life, as well as the course of events of this modern time in which we live.

Max, the droneship, may or may not need too much of a facelift. Its exterior’s sleek and aerodynamic design is pretty ubiquitous with what the general populous would imagine a small space craft would appear to be. As for the interior of the ship… Well, again, we’ll just have to trust the art director on this one. I honestly feel that nothing should change. It’s totally rad how all of the systems can be accessed, interfaced with, and emerge from within the seemingly empty silver interior. At the very least, give us the same slow panning shot of the initial glimpse of the interior that the original movie implements – gives me goosebumps every time I see it.

When performing the mind transfer to regain the lost star charts, Max also unwillingly collects David’s human memories. The Droneship’s vocal representation is then transformed from a stale, foreboding timbre to none other than Pee-Wee Herman’s characteristic lunacy. This can, without a single shred of doubt, be replaced in the remake. Napolean Dynamite, or something. Something. Anything. ANYTHING! But, remember, it’s gotta be topical to the first five years of the 21st century.

Dr. Faraday is the head NASA scientist who is most eager to learn from David and Max. In the original movie, this character is played Howard Hesseman – of TV’s “Head of The Class” program. I feel that it would be appropriate for Ed Harris to assume this roll in the remake; really, for no particular reason other than I kinda have a thing for Ed Harris. I dunno. Don’t judge me. Likewise, it would also create extra dimension of drama if Copeland created a 2nd in command to Faraday. This character should be played by Mike Rowe. And since the movie takes place in Florida, and it's hot in Florida, Mike Rowe should be without a shirt in every scene he's in. Don’t judge me.

And let us not forget the soundtrack. From what I’ve come to learn it is Alan Silvestri’s (Back to the Future, Predator – off the top of my head) first soundtrack created entirely in the digital realm. Such an approach was appropriate, and the proof is in the pudding. The soundtrack augments the atmosphere, drive, feeling of the movie. For the remake I foresee a match foretold in the stars: a collaboration between David Gilmour and Sounds From the Ground. The outcome of such a creative effort would yield nothing short of cosmic regality. A perfect sound for a worthy movie remake.

Aside from Silvestri’s music, there is a scene where David assumes manual control of the droneship. He instructs Max to scan the radio waves for some good tunes. After a few rejects they come to “I Get Around”, The Beach Boys’ epic tune that appropriately inspires David to activate the ships hyperockets and zip and zoom confidently through canyons and soar effortlessly through the endless sky. The moral during this brief scene is beyond words and tugs on my heart strings every time watch it. For the remake I would love to see this scene embellished and treated like a full-length music video. Throw in as much CGI as you people want; gimmie zoom shots; turn the inside of the droneship into a party. This is the apex of the story. Have fun with it.

But for all the giggles, laughs, and viewing comfort that could come from a cinematic facelift, I deem it absolutely crucial that the dramatic elements of FOTN remain untouched. David is 13 years old. He is the navigator. He knows where he wants to go, and it’s his choices, his decision-making, that may or may not get him there. Sometimes he makes wrong turns. Sometimes his emotions cloud his judgment. But the fact the he continues onward, unshaken, is a valuable life-lesson.

Flight of the Navigator is a wholesome tale of innocent wonder, coming of age, the desire to acquire knowledge, and familial love that crosses space and time. The ball is in your court Copeland, don’t screw it up.

Drudgery - May 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-05-03T13:43:00.005-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=P4WLDGYC

Kalkrut came to a halt. He drew a deep, wheezing breath; filling his giant lungs with the sulfurous bog air. Shin deep in bubbling sludge, he straightened his posture and adjusted the harness that came over his bare shoulders. Arcing backwards, as far as the oblong crag of limestone would allow, sounded out a rapid sequence of hollow pops. Reaching out to either side, Kalkrut grabbed hold of Cyprus trees to use their intertwining root system as resistance to stretch his broad pectorals. He strained and groaned.

After a few brief moments he became lightheaded. He then relaxed and, with great resolve, exhaled, boring a hole through the dense fog; A tunnel which brought hope, focus. But no sooner could these thoughts solidify into something tangible, Kalkrut’s glazed eyes witnessed the fog quickly fill in and once again became homogenous with the stifling blur that was all around. The oppressive grey air seemed to buzz and cling to his hulking physique in retaliation.

He sensed that there was still a great distance to go, and the humidity was sapping his strength; the limestone grew continually heavier; every heaving muscle ached for rest; the gunk in his lungs seemed to churn hotter with each breath; his hands clenched as frustration and rebellion simmered…

And just then, he blinked and quickly recalled the super-charged slaveband locked around his neck - a band that could easily encircle four or five of his puny captors. So, even if Kalkrut had had the strength to remove the rock and hurl it deep into the mangroves followed by a roar of triumph, he would still have to explain for returning to the building site with an empty harness; the penalties of which are far worse than trudging your way through a bog with a two ton chunk of limestone strapped to your back. Likewise, at this thought, he felt his weight cause him to sink deeper into the muck.

He ran a hand down his bald head and flicked globs of giant sweat into the murk. He slowly closed his eyes, took another deep breath, and with the strain evident in his facial expression Kalkrut pulled a bare foot out of the bog’s stubborn suction and took a stride forward…

Best keep moving.

Two Awesome Quotes

2010-04-22T19:44:00.003-04:00

"Listen to the stage manager and get on stage when they tell you to. No one has time for the rock star act. None of the techs backstage care if you're David Bowie or the milkman. When you act like a jerk, they are completely unimpressed with the infantile display that you might think comes with your dubious status. They were there hours before you building the stage, and they will be there hours after you leave tearing it down. They should get your salary, and you should get theirs."
- Henry Rollins

"If you look at the deep sky for long, without averting your gaze, your thoughts and your spirit somehow blend in a consciousness of solitude. The stars that have been looking down for thousands of years, the inscrutable sky itself and the darkness, so indifferent to man's short life. Then you are reminded of the solitude that awaits all of us in the grave. [9 year-old] Yegorushka thought of Grandmother sleeping now in the graveyard beneath the cherry trees. He remembered her lying in her coffin with bronze coins over her eyes; he remembered how they had then closed the lid and lowered her into the grave; he remembered the dull thud of clods of earth on the lid... He visualized Grandmother in her dark, narrow coffin, helpless and forsaken by all. He imagined her suddenly awakening, unable to understand where she was, knocking on the lid, calling for help and in the end growing faint with terror and dying a second death."
- Anton Chekhov

This Happened

2010-04-21T09:54:00.005-04:00

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

2010-04-20T22:25:00.005-04:00

MINION - A creation from the mind of ManCalledSun

Minion’s purpose is to destroy the weak. This is why I created it. To begin, Minion has six quadrapedal legstocks, each with variable suction hoofs. Achieving fearsome speeds with these, and myself on a Segway, we charge side by side through hordes of sissynecks, nancys, and emo fanboys. Minion can either use the raw power of his hydropiston arms to knock flailing weaklings into orbit or he can simply flex his bronze-plated alloy pectorals (as seen in the picture) and ram boobiehead pancakes into brick walls or spikes or brick walls full of spikes. I have lasers: PEW PEW PEW. Minion’s beltpack is armed with unlimited grenades, dirtybombs and anti-matter pin heads. When we need a quick recharge, my man purse is stocked with burritos and High on Fire CDs and the first season of Prison Break on DVD. Minion has razor blades coming out of his skull because a simple headbutt just isn’t enough; that, and I think it’s cool to have razorblades growing out of your skull. My white Styrofoam Segway helmet has, like, uber-reflective stickers that confuse and disorient the enemy. This is when I come up and swat them right on the adam's apple with a wiffleball bat: THWAP! NO MORE LAME SOCIAL COMMENTARY FROM YOU!

We will cleanse existence of guyliner and obnoxiously large neon sunglasses. It is our duty.

Yes, Max, those are geeks.

2010-04-16T09:55:00.005-04:00

Flight of the Navigator is an awesome movie.

It’s about a 12 year old boy, David, who is borrowed from his home time of 1978 for study by a being of superior intelligence. Part of the Trimaxium Droneship’s (Max) study is to fill David’s brain with star charts and observe what happens when the human mind is exerted to maximum processing power.

Afterwards, David is returned to the exact spot that he was abducted, but because of the complications of the special theory of relativity, he comes to learn that it is now eight years later – everything has changed, except David. Meanwhile, on its way out of earth’s atmosphere, Max is accidentally snagged in high voltage power lines, thus erasing its memory of the very same star charts that David currently and unknowingly has stored in his brain. Now they need each other: Max needs David’s star charts to return to its home planet, David needs Max to elude NASA scientists and government officials and return safely to his family.

Awesome. Good stuff, man. Good Stuff.

I enjoy this movie. Always have. In fact, I would be comfortable declaring that “I grew up with” Flight of the Navigator. I remember boogie boarding on Pacific Beach in ‘94, imagining that I was skimming along at incredible speeds like the navigator’s spaceship, all the while sounding out Silvestri’s theme music. I remember thinking I was all cute using the “Compliance!” response when Mrs. Eastman asked for my math homework.

This movie could have very well planted the seeds for my layman interest in the workings of the universe, as well as cultivated a deep, fantastic yearning to zip and zoom in a small, single passenger space pod while blasting and singing along to awesome music:

How envious I am to be in that very seat.

As time progresses it is easy identify how watching Flight of the Navigator as a youth has shaped who I’m becoming as an adult.

Good stuff, man. Good stuff.

Originally, this blog post was going to wrap itself up right about here. The initial intent was to simply rave about an awesome movie that continues to tug on my heart strings. However, during the course of composition I stumbled across a pertinent bit of information…

I went to Google to search for a relevant graphic to head this post and began to enter: “Flight of the Navi…” Google, doing what Google does, gave a drop down menu offering search suggestions based on what I had typed in thus far. Naturally, the first completed suggestion was what I had initially sought: “Flight of the Navigator.” The second suggestion read: “Flight of the Navigator remake.”

Flight of the Navigator REMAKE?!

A flurry of emotions came to me: Firstly, there was the obligatory knee-jerk reaction of “Hollywood is running out of ideas, so Disney is just gonna go and befoul a movie that I grew up with? Just leave it alone!”; Followed quickly by, “Well, given the cinematic advances of recent years perhaps a face-lift is actually a pretty cool idea!”; Followed quickly by disgust at myself, “How dare I think so shallowly about the ‘wow’ factor of CGI! The story runs deeper than that.” And so on.

Then I decided to actually go with the Google search and read and learn what is said about the remake. I know, right? Read and become informed before jumping to conclusions…

Now armed with what little information about the remake that is given, I’m going to expand on this Rave post about Flight of the Navigator, and discuss what would make its remake a legitimate effort. My goal is to be as level-headed as possible.

Part 2: A level-headed, sort-of-biased-but-not-biased examination of what would make Flight of the Navigator's remake legit COMING SOON

Everything you do is a balloon!

2010-04-10T14:39:00.003-04:00

By watching this video you are thereby confirming that everything you know and treasure in life is but chump change compared to the majesty and horror contained herein. Don't say I've never done anything for you.

Slightly Embellished for Dramatic Effect - April 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-04-02T10:32:00.002-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=5KXNBGZ9

This month's offering is a revisit to a Mix that I made a couple of years ago. I spruced it up with a couple of songs/bands I'm currently diggin on. The end result is a moody sequence with a romping sort of humility, a blasphemous sort of righteousness, a groggy sort of intensity - etc, etc. The whole is greater than the sum of it's parts.

Dig it.

The Ultimate Solution

2010-03-30T21:26:00.001-04:00

In an effort to make roadways safer, Ohio legislation is now pushing to join twenty other states of this fine union to make it illegal to text on one’s cell phone while operating an automobile. As it pertains in Ohio: Once the law is put into force there will be a thirty day “grace period” so that - according to The Plain Dealer - “drivers and authorities get familiar with exceptions written into the proposal, including attempting to contact authorities in an emergency, reading a navigation device… dialing a number or selecting the name of a contact on cell phone” or playing Bejeweled, or watching last week’s episode of The Office, or searching an MP3 library for a dumb Gnarles Barkley song or something. And just how is all of this going to be enforced? I wish there was emoticon with a finger up his nose and eyes all crossed and groggy and tongue hanging limply out the side of his open mouth with drool collecting on the tip and falling off in steady, even drips. Oh, man that’d be awesome.

Texting is not the only enemy. What about all these broads putting on makeup? Or the idiots who did an insufficient job brushing snow and scraping ice off their windows so that they can, you know, SEE! Or, worse yet, the dumbdumbs who let their stupid dogs stupid sit in their stupid laps while they stupid drive. All of this, ladies and germs, is much more enforceable than trying to bust someone for texting while driving – an effort that I find cute and adorable. I just wanna squeeze and ruffle the hair of those politicians trying to make this legislation a big deal.

Really, the ideal and fundamental solution to safe driving is for people to not be dumb. But, at the risk of stating the obvious….

So what is the answer? What is the ideal solution? It’s quite simple, really…

It should be illegal for anyone to drive anywhere… ever - Except for me. POW! Problem solved. Think about it. This is the age of modernity! Man doesn’t produce goods anymore; just ideas, concepts and services. Likewise, to quote Jorge Borges, “I picture [modern man] in his study, as though in the watchtower of a great city, surrounded by telephones, telegraphs, phonographs, the latest in radio-telephone and motion-picture and magic-lantern equipment, and glossaries and calendars and timetables and bulletins…” We’re all connected to each other through the aether anyways! So, by this flawless logic we can deduce that people don’t need to go anywhere, ever, and the roads will be open and free for me to drive as slow or as fast as I frikkin want to.

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

2010-03-25T12:13:00.005-04:00

Data – As seen in the television SCI-FI series Star Trek the Next Generation

Data is an advanced-design sentient android prototype. It is programmed to learn and, by so, strives to become more human. It retains all information gathered through multiple sensory systems. It is void of emotions. It has neither fear nor inclination towards self-consciousness or embarrassment. However, being a learning computer, Data’s “personality” can tend to perceived as thoughtful or light-hearted; sometimes even spontaneous as it acts out in a way that it’s processing unit deems appropriate for the social situation at hand – though sometimes Data’s CPU may be wrong. Humans are fickle, y’see.

It would be fun to hang out with Data and distance ourselves from social situations where I would give the android an overview into why what everybody else is doing is, in fact, very, very wrong. I would then instruct him on how to be gracious, confident, perfect, and teach it by example. Afterwards, he would issue query commands and I would answer him graciously. We’d then discuss art, history, art history, music, art music history. Data would cite relevant objective information, but not his stupid opinion on stuff because he can’t; it is an android don’t forget… However, he would listen intently to my perfect opinion on matters such as old people, women drivers and music store employees. Then, when I would have enough discussion, Data won’t get all pissy when I tell him to shut his robot pie hole and abruptly turn and go do something else.

More Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With coming soon...

The Beach at Night

2010-03-19T16:06:00.000-04:00

There is a deep psychological oppression that comes with walking alone down the beach at night. It’s easy to feel a foreboding sense of vulnerability. Seemingly endless dark expanse in all directions and you are right in the epicenter. The crash of incoming waves begins to fade until you are the cause of every rippling disturbance. Every beat of your heart reverberates into the endless distances. Collapsing mountainside’s pale in comparison to every razing footstep taken in the fine, white sand.

Everyone and everything knows exactly where you are. They can see your face. They can read your thoughts. They: The Darkness.

You stare into the Darkness, and the Darkness stares into you. Weaknesses and self-doubt are screaming in your expressions. A lifetime of wayward thoughts are condensed and easily observed, judged. Wonder quickly turns into apprehension. Strength is diminished and helpless child-like fear gradually builds. All hopes and passions are eclipsed by the Darkness’ constant probing for more imperfections. Nothing is hidden. Nothing is overlooked.

Inuit Throat Singing

2010-03-11T10:02:00.002-05:00

Working as a hired thug (Stagehand, audio crew, light crew) for the Cleveland Museum of Art's VIVA! & Gala series has distinct advantages. Aside from the excellent occupational experience, I am also privy to witness awesome and unique performances that I otherwise would be totally ignorant to. One such performance took place just last evening.

Tanya Tagaq is a traditional Inuit Throat Singer. Inuit Throat Singers use their voice to mimic the natural world around them. Letting this sink in for a moment it becomes apparent that this can make way for a very dynamic performance. Tanya has done solo performances as well as shared the stage with string quartets and various other troupes.

For her performance here in Cleveland she was accompanied by a drummer and a guitarist. The terms "Drummer" and "Guitarist" are used loosely in this application because neither musician played his instruments in what one would think is a "traditional" role. Indeed. They were armed with a whole bevy of guitar pedals, touch-pad synthesizers, laptops loaded with - from what I was able to glimpse - Sony Acid, small mixers, E-Bows - all kinds of fun toys, thus giving this act a modern kind of pulse which artistically contrasts Tanya's traditional vocals.

This is an interesting clash of styles, unconventional, but what we all heard on stage last night was not so much "music", but more of a sound, a space - a mimicry of some strange and twisted world.

And I loved every second of it. I'm glad I wasn't the one running the sound board because I was able to close my eyes and trip hard to what my ears were telling me. I was captivated, convinced. About a dozen people felt otherwise during the show. Seeing these old farts fumble their way to the aisle and rush to the back doors like some evil was just at their heels gave cause for me to enjoy this performance even more.

Here is a video from one of her more recent performances. The setup last night was slightly different from what you'll see here, and the sound isn't that great, and we're jumping right into the middle of the set (there may be a few uncomfortable moments of adjustment), but this is just a glimpse of... Well, you'll have to find out for yourself.

Tanya Tagaq @ Palac Akropolis

Tanya Tagaq | MySpace Music Videos

OH, MY MY MY! - March 2010 Mixtape Brigade

2010-03-04T13:58:00.001-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=JVMVGPP7

LOL! Check it out! He's totally farting on the face of King George! LOL!

Indeed. This mix is my answer to the inevitable cabin fever that sets in around this time of the year caused by extreme wintry conditions. Or, better yet, this is for anybody who needs a new weapon to battle boredom. Play it in the background as you undertake that long-overdue personal project, home improvement projects, whatever. So long as you crank it to eleven, jam like nobody's watching, and fart on the face of boredom.

This man is my blood.

2010-02-22T10:01:00.005-05:00

Say hello to my great-uncle Richard. Hello, great-uncle Richard. Thanks to my Grandmother's tireless dedication to genealogy research he and I have finally become acquainted - Hello, great-uncle Richard.

Let's take a brief moment to discuss the impression that this photograph gives. Firstly, it's very noir, yes? Therefore, right off the bat, we can deduce that my great-uncle Richard was a badass. Awesome. Now that this is established let's probe deeper. The picture was taken at a slight angle which convincingly gives him a dominating presence. Look at the confidence in which he holds the rifle, body rigid and ready to take action - This man is callous, seasoned and knows no fear. Look at the size of his hands. He's not afraid to get them dirty. In fact, that's how he prefers it. Look at the stern look in his face. He's alert, focused and ready to grease some commie scum. I feel safe knowing great-uncle Richard is keeping watch. He means business.

This man is my blood. He stands tall - and armed - among the other heavy hitters in my family line. My family tree can destroy your family tree.

soda.

2010-02-19T11:46:00.001-05:00

Crack for kids

2010-02-17T10:18:00.004-05:00

My cousin asked me the following questions for a project in school. I like these kinds of moments where I can stop and spend a few moments to take tally of what's currently going on.

1. What do you think are the major responsibilities of being a parent?

- Making sure your kid isn't a jerk.
- Being fully aware that you are raising the next generation of humanity.

2. What do you think are the major rewards of being a parent?

- I like to think far ahead to when our kids are grown and they're reminiscing about family vacations, holidays, triumphs, tragedies... just knowing and feeling that their parents helped raise them to live a full and meaningful life thus far.

3. What changes occurred in your life when you became a parent?

Time spent with my significant other is much more valuable and precious.

4. What is one joy of parenting that stands out for you?

When complete strangers (grown men, even!) will stop dead in their tracks and compliment on how cute and well-behaved my kid is. This helps me realize that we must be doing something right!

5. What is one problem you have experienced as a parent?

My patience is terrible. TERRIBLE! Here I was before parenthood thinking that I've got nerves of steel and a level head. HA! How ignorant I was!

6. What do you wish you had known before becoming a parent?

Be prepared to be tired every single day for the rest of your life. No, really. Fatigue is a truly foreign concept before parenthood.

7. What is one thing that your child/children love doing?

The Wiggles have stormed into our lives with unstoppable force. It's like CRACK to this kid! It's the first thing he asks for when he wakes up, the last thing he mumbles to himself as he's falling asleep for the night. Sustenance, nourishment, motherly coddling - it all takes the back seat to The Wiggles. Unreal.

EUIII Muscowy Chapter 1 - In medias res

2010-02-15T10:31:00.008-05:00

Overall, I think Europa Universalis III proves my theory that there are two types of people in the world:

- Those who play for fun
- Those who play to win

How does one “win” EUIII? Don’t think of the game’s objective as a single victory, but more so an ongoing evolution of gameplay. It’s kind of like the classic situation with the board game Monopoly: You can play forever and ever and ever but the game never really seems to end, you just keep going trying to place as many hotels as possible, conspire with other players, or, try your darndest to keep your head above water. Instead of representing oneself as a Top Hat or a Scotty Dog the player selects a nation to control.

Introducing:

The year is 1511 AD, one hundred and thirteen years since the beginning of this - my first attempt at a – grand campaign. Muscowy’s state religion is Orthodox, type of government is Despotic Monarchy.

Under this system, kings and their attributes are chosen at random when the current ruler dies. Several kings have come and gone since the game’s start, causing the blue difficulty bar to tilt in relation to how many stars the leader can lend to our cause. King Fyodor III is legit, meh, so-so. In this present situation I’d like to see more stars under Military, but, as with the rest of this game, you’ve got to roll with what you’ve got…

And what exactly does the rising power known as Muscowy currently have in terms of land?
(Clicking the pictures will enlarge them)

Muscowy is beige. The clump here in the middle as well as the three provinces to the west makes a total of nineteen provinces. Not too shabby. I could’ve played more aggressively in the beginning, but I’m content with where I’m at now - There are drawbacks to expanding so quickly. Having four sea-side provinces, whereas having none in the beginning, is a definite perk. Plus, it’s cool that I have to zoom out in order to see all of Muscowy.

We’ll discuss neighbors and other players in this eastern Europe/western-central Russia Theater later on.

Be it known, that the following topics will make sense when the time comes. What I’m doing right now is taking the pieces out of the box and placing them on the board.

Financially, Muscowy ain’t doin too hot. My main source of income, luckily, comes from taxes. However, trade and production efficiency is terribly low. These numbers will go up as higher technology levels are achieved (The colored bars on the right.)

It’s a long story but technology research – labeled “investments” on the scroll - is slow due to all the money being sucked into the treasury, thus giving me a hellacious inflation rate – everything costs an extra 45% of the base price, and growing annually. Also, due to the country’s physical location the game puts it in the “Eastern Tech Group” which means my research is slightly slower than the rest of Western Europe. But, steps can be taken to adjust both of these factors and turn things to our favor, which we will get into shortly(IMPORTANT).

Muscowy’s military roster looks much more attractive than its 16th century financial Excel Spreadsheets. I’ve got five separate armies, each with 6,000 men. Three of these are comprised of infantry because they are faster to train and cheaper to maintain. Two armies consists solely of 6,000 Calvary units. These may be more expensive to maintain but are invaluable in traversing the vast terrain of western/central asia (IMPORTANT). I’ve had this setup for most of the game and they’ve served me relatively well both in offence and defensive maneuvers. As always, there could always be more military presence, but the budget is stretched thin as it is. This is where diplomacy becomes a crucial factor (IMPORTANT).

THE GOOD GUYS
Here’s what the map is showing you:
(1) Muscowy in all her might and majesty
(2) Hungary recently sought us in forming an alliance. They have a strong land force and a growing navy. Distance may be an issue, though.
(3) Poland and Muscowy have been an alliance for the past fifty years or so. They have a good military, and have come to our aid many times. They too feel at odds about…

THE BAD GUYS
(4) Lithuania. I’ve sought time and time again to ease relations with them but they just don’t want to cooperate. So I take comfort in knowing that Poland (whatever their beef may be) and Muscowy flank this stubborn nation on two of its three sides. And when the time is necessary we WILL strike this country (IMPORTANT)

And just who is this nation on Lithuania’s southeast border? Who is this grey mass? Ladies and Gentlemen, the main antagonist to this series, and threat to the security and survival of Muscowy:

Coming soon
Chapter Two: The Barbed Web of Diplomacy

The Grand Campaign

2010-02-13T16:36:00.003-05:00

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the Introduction blog entry of my current game of Europa Universalis III: In Nomine. Through proceeding blog posts it is my intention to follow the drama and excitement(!!) of playing as the great nation of Muscowy!

Normally this type of thing is for the game’s message board - called “After Action Reports” - but I thought it would be a cool challenge to try to explain to a lay audience, in narrative form, the complexities of the game’s mechanics and put into words the epic drama (no, seriously) that is inherent with devoting many, many, many, many hours to playing as a single nation. So, I will attempt to keep it simple, relevant and totally not boring.

Briefly, Europa Universalis III: In Nomine (EUIII) is a historical grand strategy game. You can pick from a list of hundreds of countries to play. The Grand Campaign runs from 1399AD to 1821AD, though you can always pick a starting date any time in between. The cool thing about how this game is that it too flows with history. So while you’re struggling to seize control of the Balkans, there’s a good chance that, at the same time, Spain is colonizing the new world, and France and England are constantly in conflict with each other. How do you use all of this to your advantage? The game gives a lot of data and it’s up to the player to make wise and timely decisions.

EUIII is a fun game. I enjoy it. A little intimidating sometimes, but still satisfying to play. My current game as Muscowy (Modern-day western Russia-ish) has been a great learning experience. This is one of the reasons why I’m going to try to follow through with upcoming blog posts. The other is that right now I’m in a very interesting tactical position, and the outcome is hinged on making a single critical decision: Go or no go.

Stay tuned!

For those buried under snow this day:

2010-02-10T10:06:00.002-05:00

Three down, eternity more to go!

2010-02-04T10:19:00.002-05:00

Our anniversary was this week, and it got me thinking:

We make an interesting pair, Sarah and I. We receive comments all the time about how we "balance" each other. And this is true, though this is not as simple of a balancing act as one would initially think. Here, let me show you:

Here is a classic representation of the scales of justice.

Pretty straight forward, right? In the application of a couple "balancing" each other out it's easy to see each person sitting indian-style on each side of the scale while winking and blowing kisses to each other. Awww, how cute.

But, this scenario is also a bunch of CRAP!

Here's how I see Sarah and myself:

Not only is this contemporary mobile way cooler, it is also a much more accurate representation of how we do, indeed, balance each other out. Sarah and I are complex individuals, we feel deeply. Think of the idiom "Still Waters Run Deep" and then add a couple hundred more fathoms and you've got the idea. The reason why we may sometimes seem unapproachable is because we're always so busy being deep and complex and mysterious. That, and we're totally shy, but...

I'd like to think that these deep reserves of emotion is the unifying force in our marriage, it is what makes me look forward. If we were only treading on the surface - clinging to the more shallow attributes and interests - we wouldn't have made it even this far. This is because neither one of us ever pictured ourselves being with the type of person we are currently with. Did that make sense? Here, let me do another illustration.

*please note: The following pictures are intentionally of inanimate objects and not of a specific type of person or individual. Even if I had posted the world's hunkiest chunk of ManHunk I still would've gotten in big fat trouble for posting some mediocre-looking female celebrity. I know how you women are. And just by declaring "I know how you women are" also just got me in big fat trouble. Therefore - to digress slightly - women are nothing but trouble.

Nick thought he'd end up with someone like

this collection of watercolors and oil paintings

Sarah thought she'd end up with someone like

this organized, stiff and professional workplace.

But, alas, we didn’t “end up” with each other. We worked hard to get where we are today, and it’s been a real trip. Every day is a new adventure in the land of matrimony and I am grateful that Sarah is the one here to experience it with me. And if teaming together to raise the super-force that is Mitchell isn’t enough to forge our bonds even stronger then I can’t even comprehend what could - Man, this kid is crazy.

Really, I could go into this huge psychology discourse to explain why it is Sarah and I totally rule together. But, the fundamental reasons for our awesomeness are that our hearts are in the right place and tightly knit together. We share the same long-term and long-long-long-long term goals. She’s a wonderful person who feels deeply for others. She works very hard and doesn’t gripe about it. She loves her little boy. She loves her family. She loves her in-laws (I know, right!?) Her smile makes me smile. She is the strong arm.

She’s lucky to have me - HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

The Air in Meager Valley - February 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-02-01T10:36:00.007-05:00

Feb 16, 1908

Our hope is frail, now. Be there any sound louder than a whisper and it will dissipate, swirl away right before our eyes. It is gray all around. This curtain of snow masks the detail of anything that is ahead. The surrounding ranges continue to exist; their outlines rising and sliding, dancing as if in mockery. Or is it encouragement? Puzzling. The unbroken trail before us will prove challenging. But, oh, what a place, this valley.

Our supplies are dwindling, gear worn and weathered, grub almost gone. We’ve ceased lunching altogether. Set mealtimes only encourage eating more than what is essential to sustain. Roseblood is skittish, but continues to bob her head to the rhythm of unheard ‘ol timey ditties.

Indeed, there is something queer about this valley.

The wooden sign before the broken town two days past read “Meager Valley.” Its abandoned structures were in shambles. Windows were shattered, the roofs collecting and spilling snow drifts. Rusted store signs dangled haplessly, sheltered wooden walkways gray and splintered with age. And yet, the place did not feel vacant. I dare say haunted, though I haven’t the morale to entertain such idiocy; Ernie would certainly lose his head at the very mention. I find it necessary to conclude that this town grew very quickly and then vanished like fingers pinching out a candle’s flame.

There is an air here in Meager Valley. Intoxicating, almost. The wind that blows on our backs, coming from the abandoned town, carries more than wintry chill; it carries the echoed wills and ambitions of all of those that have ever passed through. Even the ranges that now surround us seem to be carrying us onward. Not like the sirens of Homer’s Odyssey. No. The mystery is not before us, it is already here. The air carries strange vibrations, undercurrents, unseen ribbons of influence. As if the souls that once lived in that ramshackle town followed us out and now inhabit these very peaks, and in blissful solitude sing out with strength and salve, smeared somewhat by distance and wind, but still ring true.

Yes.

We can make the journey.

New Blog Post

2010-01-29T09:38:00.002-05:00

*Apology for not updating more frequently*
*Excessively long narrative on the mundane stuff that's been happening*
*Excitement at finding a new recipe:*
*Recipe for some gross dinner-log thing that includes mushrooms and olives*
*Picture of own and/or hubby's feet/shoes*
*Pictures taken yesterday that are self-proclaimed as "artsy" though not outwardly declared*
*Pictures of kids doing adorable kid stuff accompanied by witty captions*
*Gratitude to friends, family*
*Web link to some cheesy inspirational poem or blog*
[/Blog post]

*Check back multiple times a day to see if anyone has left a comment pertaining to said post*

I was wrong.

2010-01-20T14:55:00.002-05:00

Don't be alarmed! It happens sometimes.

Mitchell's daycare had a Holiday ditty last month for all of the parents. Each age group had their own show planned and practiced. Mitchell is in the toddler group. There are about eight or nine toddlers. The plan was to march them down through the aisle - past all the parents, mind you - and keep these toddler's in one place and, as a single adorable little troupe, sing two songs complete with props and hand gestures. Every bullet point to this presentation posed the possibility of the entire thing crashing and burning; A spectacle that myths are made of.

Mitchell was Mr. Crabbypants the night of the show. Actually, he was being a b*#$%y little prima donna - forgive me, but it's true. From getting him dressed to trying to get him into the car seat he fought us every step of the way. I was frazzled, Sarah was frazzled. And to the added pressure Gramma and Grampa and Mitchell's aunties were driving across town to come witness this sure-to-be Epic Failure.

The following empirical evidence proves otherwise. Thanks to Grandpa J for the stellar cinematography and interwebs know how.

The walls are laughing at you.

2010-01-13T10:20:00.002-05:00

Our new place is legit. It's still classified as an apartment, yes, but the extra 400 sq. feet is totally awesome and gives Mitchell the much-needed space to romp around like he owns the joint. The apartment also comes with a huge balcony, of which - weather permitting - I do intend to sit upon and read every word and twisted idea ever written by Alistair Reynolds. It is also on this very balcony that I will lock in my family, face the cool evening breeze and muse, ponder and fill every inch of the blank notebook I just bought with chicken scratch, jibberjabber and nonsense. It will be glorious.

But that is then - this is now. It's time for more pressing matters. Part of the appeal of the new apartment is the vaulted ceiling in the living room and the extra sense of space it gives. Oh, baby, it's great.

The only downside is that our back living room wall is enormous - ENORMOUS! The dimensions of this flatland come to 22 feet long and 12 feet high. These numbers have been rounded up to the nearest foot for the purpose of slightly exaggerating just how big of a beast we're dealing with. While this may not be a big deal to some, the Jonses see it as a daunting blank canvas; something that taunts us, giggles at us saying "find a creative and stylish way to decorate me! MWA HA HA HA!!" Indeed, to just leave the wall naked would drive me batty. Batty I tell you!

So what's the solution? With a surface area this huge we're going to have to think outside of the box.

Sarah speaks of buying groovy fabric patterns to mount onto plywood or something thereof, thus creating big mural-type wall hangings. This is a good idea because it would definitely spice up the room and would also serve as an acoustic dampener.

My boyfriend Chrismack had the totally awesome idea that totally blew my mind. He suggested that we should turn the wall into a floor. Like, mount furniture in a way that it gives the sense that you're looking from the top down. Immediately, I thought it would be super sweet to make a bowling alley. Or maybe an oldskool arcade. Or maybe a disco dance floor. Or maybe a reversed and mirror image of our living room!! How far down the rabbit hole can this go?

Here's my idea. It's awesome and the best one yet. Take the following picture and enlarge it to the appropriate dimensions:

Now, one may be compelled to ask: Why? Is this really necessary?

Why? WHY!? I'll tell you why! Because it's frikkin CREEDENCE, that's why! Of course it's necessary - DUH! When something is as vital to your existence as the very blood that flows through your veins it only makes sense to spend the hundreds of dollars to see the task through, right? Weeeeeeeee!!! Sarah can get used to it.

Muck. - January 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2010-01-05T16:05:00.006-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=72VMI4MV

The composition, intent, and, ultimately, late arrival of this month's mixtape is as timely and complex as it is ironic.

Muck. is the soundtrack to your already-failed new years resolutions.

It's my bitter antagonistic view towards the universal folly that the new year is some kind of clear distinction, clean break, and threshold to a new and better lifestyle; as if all the dumb decisions, laziness, and failed ambitions of the past year have vanished. *POOF* Gone! It's a new year. A new decade, even! Make it a good one! yay! :=)

Nuts to that. New Years resolutions are lame. They are initiated by the weak-willed. Muck. is intentionally dense, grimy and forty-frikkin-fathoms to keep you from making shallow benchmarks and convincing yourself that you can "make it through this tough time." Hey, you know what, Nancy? Quit whining. It's all hard, all the time. So, buck up, utilize time more effectively and, above all, realize that you've got an entire year - nay- an entire lifetime to make sense of it all, and not just when advertisers say so.

Indeed, Muck. is here to help you develop your sea-legs, to be able to roll with this crazy and exciting thing called life. It's not always pretty, but, hot diggitydog it's a slammin' good time - and I wouldn't want it any other way.

"Hey, where do these stairs go?"
"They go up."

To whom it may concern:

2009-12-22T10:17:00.003-05:00

Retired drummer - now willing and available - to provide backbone for the dense musical narrative of a band of Norse Godmen and the souls they mercilessly reap. Mounted upon unholy iron steeds, armed with war hammers and charged with the electricity pulsing through their veins, these barbarians, with ambiguous alignments, vanquish all those who obstruct their fervid march. Hordes of opposition try to stand in the way, and yet wave upon broken wave collapse at the their might. One Godman, still part-mortal, becomes weary of crushing skulls to which he passes off his hammer to a comrade saying, "My arms fail me. Go on with the work. I have done pretty well."

Skufka, I'm looking in you're direction...

(*Y$h9d9@WD-_@dndn)E)@)#1~!~!!

2009-12-19T22:05:00.001-05:00

Holy crap we have a lot of crap. Or maybe it just seems like there’s a lot of crap because not all of our crap is stored away in closets or storage spaces – where crap belongs. Instead, crap is lying anywhere there was empty floor space - where crap does not belong - because all the closets and storage spaces – where crap belongs – are already full of crap.

So, I gather a pile crap and pack it away into moving bins, but then have nowhere to put this bin of crap because there are still piles of crap anywhere there was empty floor space – where crap does not belong. Vexed, I leave this bin of crap where it is in hopes that I can pack away some other pile of crap and, in turn, make some empty floor space to put this other bin of crap.

So, in theory, we want to have a stack of bins full of crap over there in the corner. But there are so many layers of unpacked crap that it is necessary to shuffle the bins already stuffed with crap more than once because the floor space needed to store these bins that are full of crap are already occupied by massive, heaping piles of crap! Holy crap we have a lot of crap!

The Jones legacy

2009-12-16T11:31:00.008-05:00

This is a picture of me 'n my bruhdder, Brad. Yep, check us out. It's actually a pretty good picture - surprising, even - given how neither of us fully cooperates when it comes to saying cheese. We have differing, yet agonizingly obstinate approaches.

Brad is too busy doing crap like this:

And I'm too busy being all elusive and mysterious because I hate frikkin posing for pictures:

So, all things considered, the first picture posted is, in essence, a miracle. Sarah must have sensed that the planets were aligned when she spun around, camera in hand, and didn't even give us the chance to pull our usual stunts. Props to you, Mrs. Jones!

But, it is this representation I want to instill upon the minds of all when I officially declare that these two sterling gentlemen are the ones who will be continuing to build the Jones dynasty. Awww yeah! An exhilarating yet troublesome thought, I know: Exhilarating in that we're both geniuses and exemplars in our own capacity; Troublesome in that when we're together it's like listening in on a pair of 7 year-olds giggle about poop and farts and boobs and video games. Regardless, it takes well-rounded leadership to rule the world... Just be mindful of that when elections roll around in a couple of years.

Brad's birthday is tomorrow. He's gonna be 20... or 21; whichever, I don't remember. He'll be celebrating on the other side of the continent from me. Y'see, Brad's faithfully serving a mission in the great state of California. He's committed to something that's right and true, and I'm proud of him for it. I know and feel that his selfless service has blessed, and will continue to bless, our little family.

His absence is surely felt. To me, the din of family powwows has witnessed a steady decline in recent months. In part, it's because newly formed family units have gradually splintered off to nest elsewhere and are unable to make it to every gathering. And that makes sense, yes? Fewer loudmouths in one place equals less raucous. But something still felt off, something is still amiss. Indeed. The slight lack of enthusiasm I feel at family gatherings is due to the fact that I really, really miss my brother.

BUT, ALAS!Brad is involved in a worldwide effort to bring about the greater good. An effort and message that can only be successful if carried and accepted by people who strive to do the right thing. You go, Brad!

Happy Birthday, Mr. President!

Seeing as how things will be...

2009-12-09T12:15:00.008-05:00

December is gonna be crazy for us. C-I-Z-Z-R-A-Z-A-Y!

Despite all the planning and social engagements that is inherent in living through the month of December, and with the impending logistical headaches of pulling up stakes and moving the Jones camp ten minutes to the west, The Music spoke to me these past two nights. In doing so, January's mixtape basically sequenced itself. Here's a picture preview of where the vibe sits now:

gets all fidgety with anticipation

2009-12-08T10:21:00.001-05:00

Chew on this

2009-12-03T10:32:00.003-05:00

Once the game is over,
the King and the Pawn go back into the same box

- Italian Proverb

Nukes and Good News - December '09 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2009-12-01T18:55:00.004-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=M7ZI696I

"Still the calm continued...

We ate dinner, a hurried and anxious meal for me with eighteen men abroad on the sea and beyond the bulge of the earth and with that heaven-rolling mountain range of clouds moving slowly down upon us.

Wolf Larson did not seem affected, however... His face was stern, the lines of it had grown hard, and yet in his eyes, - blue, clear blue this day, - there was a strange brilliancy, a bright scintillating light. It struck me that he was glad there was an impending struggle; that he was thrilled and upborne with knowledge that one of the great moments of living, when the tide of life surges up in flood, was upon him...

He was daring destiny, and he was unafraid."

- Jack London

He's doing it on purpose!

2009-11-19T09:52:00.003-05:00

Jack London is great.

In 1904 London published The Sea-Wolf. I'm about a third of the way through reading it and am thoroughly enjoying the way London describes his philosophical views of life. Man oh man, he is great.

The Sea-Wolf takes place on a seal-hunting Schooner; a smaller boat but well-equipped for speed during long hauls. Wolf Larson is the notorious, callous and surprisingly well-read captain with some twenty men under his command, one of which is the novel's protagonist the soft and domesticated "gentleman" Humphrey Van Weyden. "Hump" dictates the story in 1st person past tense (though sometimes London will slip into present tense just because he can, I guess... Man, he is great) and gives us the contrasting philosophical view of Altruism to Wolf Larson's Materialistic Monism. Behold! A base-line philosophical conflict that writers/thinkers like Jack London lusted over.

These are the fundamental questions that have been probing humanity since the history of recorded thought. This is some serious stuff, man!

But, Jack London foolishly overlooked one critical aspect of his composition. The Sea-Wolf takes place on a sailing vessel. Sailing vessel's have poop decks. "poop deck" has the word "poop" in it. Indeed, London failed to take into account that I think the word poop is funny.

Giggling like a 9-year old every time my eyes grace upon the word poop totally disrupts my reading experience. It distracts from my pondering the deeper philosophical meanings behind what London is trying to convey. And the fact that the boat is named "Ghost" kills me even more. GHOST POOP! BWAAAA HA AHA HA AHAHA!!!!1111

And I quote:

Occasional light airs were felt, however, and Wolf Larson patrolled the poop constantly, his eyes ever searching the sea...

He abruptly turned on his heel and started forward. He stopped at the break of the poop and called me to him.

The Wolf Larsen shouted from the poop: "Grab Hold of something, you - you Hump!"

Do you see? It's hard to take this infamous character seriously if he's just hanging out on his poop all day. Likewise, it's difficult to process all the philosophical goings on when the debate is taking place on a giant Ghost turd. Man, Jack London is great.

And you don't even know how giddy I am now just in typing this post about why I think poop is funny. I could read more of The Sea-Wolf right now, but instead I'm gonna go eat beef jerky and watch Ren & Stimpy.

A petty rant

2009-11-17T11:31:00.002-05:00

Dear people who take the elevator up or down a single level,

Why do this? Why? Why are you going to delay the progress of my day just because you're too lazy to collapse your dumb schoolbag on wheels and carry it down the stairs? Buy a backpack! This way you can carry all the overpriced nursing and accounting tomes you need by using the solid strength of your humanoid physique. It'll surprise you how much your shoulders and back can support, give it a shot!

And double-shame on you who don't have dumb school bags on wheels but still take the elevator up or down a single level. Seriously? Take the stairs, fatty!

^^^^^^^^^ USE THEM! ^^^^^^^^^

Your monkey might need feeding!

2009-11-12T17:25:00.002-05:00

Dave was right in the middle of watching this video when I walked into the room the other day. I dig it. Big fun!

The unifying force of The Universe

2009-11-10T11:02:00.010-05:00

Modern-day scientists have been tripping themselves up trying to figure out the deeper mysteries of what's keeping The Universe together and just how reality - as we know and perceive "it" - is enmeshed with it all.

On the macrocosmic scale it is widely agreed that gravity is dominant force. Gravity and spacetime work hand-in-hand as they carryout the theater of the cosmos. There are several rogue scientist who dispute this and have their own little pet-theories about how the universe is leaking gravity or how radio transmitions from remnants of the big bang aren't telling us what they want us to or how blackholes are just fantastical concoctions of humanoid imagination. Generally, we have a basic understanding, albeit fascinating, but still don't really have a clue.

And then there's the quantum level - the very, very, very small. Oh, man; talk about not having a clue! This is still a new field of study that is just advancing beyond the stage of ideas and crazy, googly-eyed theories. Scientists now know enough about the microcosmic that it is widely agreed and accepted that the macrocosmic vista of the cosmos function on completely different set of natural laws - of which are mutually exclusive.

*gasp* Where's the solidarity? Where's the unification?

And what about us? Humans and our history? There is a natural tendency towards discord. We can see all throughout history and across cultures and civilizations that we're missing something. Some "thing" that can bind us all together in peace and harmony. Some "thing" that can unify and bring together all the levels of existence.

So, I did some homework. And after much reasearched, pondering and soulsearching I found it! I FOUND IT! The unifying force of The Universe is: Utz Pub Mix.

BEHOLD!

I mean, it was so obvious! Within the generous cylindrical container Utz Pub Mix contains all the necessary ingredients for a mass Utopian society! It's been here all along! The evidence is everywhere! Here, the proof is in the pudding:

Is Gravity really the shared force between these two galaxies, or is it the scrumptious Rye chips that are aplenty within each container of Utz Pub Mix?

And look at this! When observed through a powerful microscope we can clearly see that Utz Pub Mix is the binding force of even those most basic - and essential, mind you - of elements.

Ok, our natural surroundings, both big and small, have been accounted for. Our observations yield definite empirical evidence that Utz Pub Mix is on our side! Now, let us turn our attention inwards; let us examine our own history. With the benefit of hindsight it seems so silly that we are always mired in conflict when the answer to a peaceful existence has always been right in front of us! I mean, look:

Look at this Classical Roman mosaic. If this gladiator would've just looked down he would've seen a container of Utz Pub Mix - and all the crunchy, delicious rye chips, cheddar chips, pretzel rods - he would've shared them with his fellow combatants and all would've been well.

Utz Pub Mix is a requirement for Shamanistic rituals. If the early American cowboys and Calvary would've just stopped for one frikkin second, got off their horses and hung out with these dudes everything would be totally copacetic.

Oh look, this friendly bull wants to share his heaping helping of honey roasted sesame chips and oriental rice crackers with is friend. If this bullfighter wasn't such a pompus jerk he could've clearly seen the peace offering. This explains the escalating number of goredings, doesn't it.

Yeah, dude, these chicks get it! Party On!

I'm convinced! Now if someone could please .pdf me the application for the Nobel Peace Prize I'd be much obliged.

Sufficient for our Needs - November '09 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2009-11-03T10:39:00.005-05:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=783MWZM0

HAIL! Fellow denizens, the time for scraping, drudgery and grinding our weary bones has come to an end! We know not from whence this parcel has come, but gratefully engage in it's nourishing properties. Indeed! Spacious, capable and fully amplified sonic soundscapes that are sure to wax strong in even the most timid of persons. This winter will be formidable, that much is certain. We are but a simple people, and need only the modest of sustenance. We are now armed with the necessities and power to overcome all adversity. PRAISE BE!

Where's this going?

2009-10-21T10:15:00.001-04:00

Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Balloon Boy Hoax
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Balloon Boy Hoax
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Balloon Boy Hoax
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Swine Flu Swine Flu
H1N1
Balloon Boy Hoax

And I quote:

2009-10-17T21:20:00.003-04:00

I've found my new hero, role model, and all-around BFF.

"At the start of the eleventh century Byzantium enjoyed something of a resurgence of wealth and power under the ferocious despot Basil II (976-1025), also known as Basil the Bulgar-Slayer. He earned this epithet through an act of unparalleled ruthlessness.

Facing renewed Bulgar agression in 1014, he outmanoeuvered and trapped their army, capturing 14,000 prisoners. The Bulgar Prince Samuel escaped, so Basil decided to send him a clear message about the dangers of threatening the empire. He chose to release reather than execute his prisoners, but had ninety-nine out of every hundred blidned, leaving the hundredth man one eye with which to guide his mutilated companions back into Bulgar territory. The sight of this train of broken wretches crushed Samuel's spirit and he died of shock two days later."
Taken from Thomas Asbridge's book The First Crusade.

X infinity

Your world is not ready for this

2009-10-15T09:56:00.008-04:00

Here is a pictorial preview of November's mixtape.

Sauntering About - Oct 09 BRR Mixtape Brigade

2009-10-01T08:49:00.004-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=3OSACWVA

October is my favorite month ever. EVAR!

This is the time when the scourge of Cleveland summers begins to wane and the cool breath of God flows down from the Great White North. This is the onset of the harvest; when the fruits of labors are rewarded. This is the season of Fall Festivals, hoodies, hay rides, antique fairs, skyscapes. The scent of autumn is pronounced, exciting and far surpasses the shallow whiffs that spring can only manage to blow about.

This is peak foliage season, folks. This is when earth colors are both vibrant and muted. Light takes on a different attitude. The chilly morning air now has that certain bite that only occurs during the days of October. Indeed, mornings in general are palpable, divine, sober.

Combine these feelings of contentment with the nip in the air, the theater of deciduous forests and wandering paths within, and these twelve rustic tunes and you will only kind of glimpse how enriching I find this time of year. Dig it.

Sure, why not...

2009-09-26T09:23:00.003-04:00

While we're on the topic of music videos...

It's like they told The Edge, "Ok, just sit here in front of the camera and let people do stuff to you."

It's like they told Bryan Adams, "Ok, lets get together and make the most epic music video ever."

Whatever bubbles, bubbles up!

2009-09-24T09:23:00.007-04:00

Remember this video? It's awesome on so.many.LEVELS! Watch it! JUST WATCH IT! I dare you to deny it's awesomeness. It's like M.C. Escher free flowing with swingin' hip hop. I remember buying the cassette single and romping around with my walkman. Shucks, I'd do the same now if I cared enough to carry around an iPod.

Awesome tune, Awesome video - Good stuff, man. Good Stuff. Defying physics, defying musical genres. Proof positive that one thing can appeal to everyone. Sure to put a smile on your face and get your foot a'tappin'. Dig it.

The yin & yang of it all

2009-09-22T10:48:00.003-04:00

Me 'n Pelican have had a bit of a rough past. No, not rough - I take that back. Misunderstanding, perhaps? That sounds better; Yes, an askewed relationship that continues to this day. Even now as I listen to their latest album, "City of Echoes."

The band is an instrumental quartet that... well... here's what Hyrdahead Records has to say:
When the quartet's first full length, Australasia, came out in late 2003, it was an experiment in crushing heaviness, albeit melodic and compositionally a breed apart from their contemporaries.

And I can, and do, appreciate this kind of sound. But, during the physical act of listening to Pelican it always feels like we're not quite on the same frequency: I should be enjoy this; I applaud their solid compositions and guitar work/tones, but I just can't sink my teeth into this! I.JUST.CAN'T! I've inquired with several longtime Pelican fans about what it is I'm overlooking, what misunderstanding that's obstructing that longed-for Eureka! moment when one can officially declare, "OH! Ok, I get it now." All of the answers were pretty much in the same vein of praising the guitar work and song-writing skills.

I've always likened listening to HELMET to being force-fed a stale loaf of bread. The sound is right there in your face, filling and obvious, but very little actual nourishment is gained by its consumption. Part of me wants to write off Pelican with this same description. Time and time again while listening I feel.... meh....

Sure, the theory is something to take note of, but I would rather sacrifice unusual chord progressions and/or off-beat time signatures for some good 'ol fashioned FEELING! You've got three guitars and a solid drummer! Quit sounding like you're taking yourselves too seriously. JAM OUT A LITTLE BIT! Lock into a wicked groove and see where it takes you! Your music feels like you're site reading. I feel like I need to keep looking for the "Quantize" button on my media player but can't seem to find it. Come on, guys!

I want to enjoy Pelican. I really do. I don't know why, but I'm holding to the instinct that one day - someday - we can enjoy a fulfilling relationship. I will casually continue my psychological and academic investigation into this band.

But, for now, Karma to Burn and their bouncing 4/4 grooves are sustaining me just fine.

Mitchell looooooves corn on the cob

2009-09-14T13:47:00.005-04:00

Dude, corn on the cob Mitchell! Try it! It's good.

Atta boy, You've got the idea! What do you think?

Sweeeeeeeeet.

You can admire my Pandora station now

2009-09-10T10:39:00.004-04:00

Pandora is fickle and fun. It's got the excitement of not knowing what song the station will play next, but the comfort in knowing it'll stay in tune with what genre(s) you're trying to mingle together. While listening you've sometimes gotta nudge Pandora back in line. Sometimes it is of more benefit to let a song go without giving it a thumbs up or down.

Example: If you say you like a particular Foo Figthers or Weezer song Pandora will play a song by them once every 45 minutes - depending on the station's mood this statement may or may not be an exaggeration. But, if you give it a thumbs down Pandora will deny you other great tunes that share the same vein as these bands. But, this is the kind of spontaneity I embrace when in the mood. Sure, little 10 seconds ads will sometimes creep in in between songs but it's easy to dismiss them. Sure, free accounts are only limited to 40 hours a month now, but, y'know what, that's fine. A little Pandora goes a long way.

- Anyways, to the topic at hand -

It's through the methods described above that... Dude, I think I've been able to sculpt pretty much the greatest station in the history of Pandora Internet Radio, the Internet, and the Radio - oh yeah, this is serious business. It's taken some time but I think I've got the station locked into the vibe I'm going for.

"Gritty and Good For You" is an irreverent romp in celebration of Orange fullstacks and clouded judgment - a sound that I get the itch for and indulge heavily upon. Here's an abbreviated playlist of the past hour or so:

My Wave - Soundgarden
Ghosts Along the Mississippi - Down
World of Fire - C.O.C
Malfunction - Don The Reader
Let's Lynch the Landlord - L7
Won't Tell - Babes in Toyland
Thirty Nine - Karma To Burn
Plush - Stone Temple Pilots
Shake it Loose - Fu Manchu
Undertow - Tool
Rats (Live) - Clutch
In The Meantime - Helmet
Descent - Knut
Bifter - Staring Problem
*currently playing* Riddles are Abound Tonight - Les Claypool's Frog Brigade

*sigh* It's a beautiful thing, it is.

A neat Pandora feature is that a user can share stations with friends. I could email this to you, very easily, but I won't. This is my personal stash. Git yer own.

Twitter is dumb

2009-09-04T11:05:00.002-04:00

So, it was Thursday night, 9PM, top of the hour. I’m plopped down on the couch indulging in some good ‘ol fashioned channel surfing. Seeing as how we have the uber-basic cable plan my options are extremely limited, but nonetheless…

*click* I come to channel 8…

There’s a young lady sitting in the window seat of a city bus. She looks somewhat fidgety and distressed. Oh dear, what ever could be the problem? It becomes quickly apparent that something is terribly amiss with this character. She tugs away at her scarf like it’s a boa robbing her of breath. Regardless, her breathing then becomes rapid and shallow. Panic attack, perhaps? Her face blushes a deep, painful hue. Heart attack, perhaps? She leans against the window in growing despair. Condensation begins to form around her head. She glances feverishly to newspaper sitting in the seat in front her, which looks to be slowly catching fire! What the?? The lady starts totally freaking out and forces her way off the bus. She darts out in front of the bus, shrieking and flailing, and crosses the street with no awareness of her surroundings. Pedestrians are caught in the same state of alarm that I share: What is wrong with this chick?! Acid Flashback? Wicked cramps? Appendicitis? WHAT!?! Then what happens? Right there, broad daylight in the middle of a busy metropolitan area this young lady frikkin SPONTANIOUSLY COMBUSTS!!!!! BOOM!!

*cue: FRINGE opening credits*

Okey dokey! So, THIS is Fringe. I’ve heard good things. Many good things. Well, the opening scene has sure as you-know-what earned my attention! I shall continue watching…

Doopty doo watching Fringe doopty doopty doo… I know this actor, I’ve seen him is something else – I wanna say Into The Wild but I know that’s not right. And this older guy, he looks really familiar too. Anyways. Doopty doo watching Fringe… Ok, clearly I’m watching a story that is well into itself. Is this season one or two? Or three? How long has this show been on the air? Dylan would know, probably. Well, hey, this seems pretty cool so far. I’m diggin’ it….

Wait, what the…

WTF is this? “Twitter chat”? Huh? This…This is annoying. Get this crap outta here. Ok, these little chat bubbles are taking up half the screen. Are these, like, the producers or something? Is all this behind-the-scenes information really necessary RIGHT NOW; y’know WHILE the show is broadcasting? I can’t… I can’t see what’s happening. Wait! What was that? Something happened on the show! Was it important? What was it? I couldn’t tell because the people in these little twitter tweeter bubbles are talking about BooBerry cereal! Why won’t this stop? Shut up, all of you! How much more distracting could this possibly be? Whichever FOX executive approved of this idea should be shot in the foot. This is not POPUP VIDEO! If I cared so deeply about the production of the show I’d visit the website or something! Wow! This is dumb. My attention is quickly fleeting. What an unfortunate turn of events! Three minutes ago I was all hyped up to see what this show was about. But now...

No, I’m done. I think This Old House is on PBS right now.

*click*

Epic Ambient Rock

2009-09-03T09:34:00.002-04:00

Just what does Epic Ambient Rock sound like? Click the cover to download Kelbach's new album "The Last Sunset" and experience it first hand. Blow-your-mind-stuff, man. Check out his commentary at http://quasiimado.blogspot.com/

These Guys - Sept 09 Monthly Mixtape Brigade

2009-09-01T09:26:00.003-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=0L3OKT0X

Perhaps it's a pang of guilt? Perhaps that ain't hunger gnawin atchoo belly. If you succeed at failing are you a success or a failure? STOP! Who stole my lighter!? It's the one with a grizzly bear catching a trout. That's it, everybody uses their own lighters from here on out. No, Harold is fine, I'm not using barbed wire this time. No, really! I must be going soft in my old age. Gangly, gnarled, salty. Maggots will clean the wound. Remember that part in Fantastic Planet? When they...Ugh, Just why are flashlights black, that never made sense to me. This is taking too long... oh wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait... yeah, this is taking too long... oh wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, wait, w -w-w -w-w -w-w-w-w-w---w-w -w-w-w -w- w-w-www.icanhascheezburger. That's it, I'm calling Gregg. Why? Because. Because Why? He's upstream and doesn't like the shenanigans. Did you just say "pods of grilled bananas?"

Howie Mandel likes to point at you

2009-08-14T10:46:00.011-04:00

I dig it

2009-08-03T12:42:00.002-04:00

R.A.T. v 2.0

Badass Boss Battles - Aug '09 BRR Monthly Mix Brigade

2009-08-01T11:04:00.005-04:00

http://www.megaupload.com/?d=VBZ4A02Y

The idea for this mix came suddenly. Here I was polishing off what was originally intended to be August’s mix, and then – BAM! It was an itch that wouldn’t subside until I indulged in scratching it. When promptings are this strong and this sudden you run with it!

“Badass Boss Battles” is the soundtrack to the hypothetical METROID: The Movie – the greatest movie never created. Oh yes!! I’ve ALWAYS - always always always - thought that the Metroid series would prove to be a solid foundation for a slammin movie. And thanks to modern advancements in cinematic production the feasaability for a movie this huge and this awesome is now all too real. Think about it:

- A foxy protagonist who is like a cross between Laura Croft and Lt. Ripley. Indeed! An interstellar amazon warrior woman sealed within a wicked cool space suit fitted with all the fixins to capture her bounty.

- Flying neon energy-sucking parasites that, once they’ve latched on, only get angrier and more vicious the more you struggle to shake them loose;

- Teams of technologically advanced space pirates who are addicted to a rare radioactive mineral and will do anything necessary to obtain it;

- Huge, ominous caverns, lit by winged luminescent octopods, that undoubtedly house little alcoves and nooks in where powerups are attained;

- Ruins of an extinct noble alien civilization situated in a snowy canyon under a sapphire sky

- Haunted spaceships, eons after crash landing, that are home to indigenous creatures and flora both beautiful and deadly…

Basically, the game has an overall perfect melding of futuristic technology, extraterrestrial geography, and alien biology. Put in the right hands, the cinematic production of these locations and characters would catch the attention of anybody with a set of eyeballs and even a rudimentary understanding of what makes stuff awesome.

But, to get to the main point: I adore the musical element in all of the Metorid titles. They convey space and atmosphere in each of the massive levels like the ones described above – Hence, the overall goal of this mix.

It’s critical to acknowledge that Metroid is not just a shoot-‘em-up-with-everything-you’ve-got type of game; There are rarely waves upon waves of cracked out aliens fuming to get at you. NAY! 75% of the game is spent EXPLORING! And through it all, the music is appropriately composed and non-intrusive. These locations are included in this months mix.

On the flip side: I’ve played other games with a constant trancey/techno soundtrack and after a while it just sounds repetitive; totally ineffective when the time calls for a hard, driving beat… Like during a Badass Boss Battle!

The bosses in Metroid are awesome! They come in all shapes and sizes. From a single massive spherical entity with pustules that birth tentacles intended to whip around and knock you off into the pool of acidic excrement, to the mother of all mother brains who will eventually morph into a slobbering 50 ft. steel skeletal figure. I love the initial panic that’s felt when the boss battle begins because chances are you’re not exactly sure how to take this monstrosity down; what is it’s head and what is it’s rear end? What are these swooping flashing neon rings spewing out of that one orifice on it’s… I guess it’s abdomen??? Why are my super-missles completely ineffective?!!? AND IS THERE SERIOUSLY NO WAY OUT OF THE BATTLE ARENA?! Ah, well then… It’s time to jump in headfirst! Indeed. And during it all, a pulsating 140BPM track is much needed to enhance the experience of fighting a Badass Boss Battle. These tracks are also included in this month’s mix.

So, to bring this back around to the legitimacy of becoming a movie… Taking all of this into consideration how awesome would this be in a fully equipped cinematic environment? Yeah, that’s what I thought. To deny the movie’s plausible awesomeness is to deny the very existence of the universe itself.

The tracks in this month’s mix CD would be mixed in surround, with more a little more emphasis on volume in the side and rear speakers. A cinematic production can get as CGI-intensive and 3D as it frikkin wants, but it is bupkis – BUPKIS! B-U-P-K-I-S- without surround sound.

But, until then (if ever) trip to these tracks and create your own Metroid experience.

My new desktop wallpaper...

2009-07-29T13:10:00.002-04:00

And will remain so for a great while:

New banner

2009-07-27T10:50:00.002-04:00

Ewww.

It's comical how abruptly I realized that the old ManCalledSun banner was butt-ugly. It shot down my spine like a jolt of electricity. I'm almost embarrassed that it stayed there to so long. So, I made another one. It's serving more as a place setter right now and is an idea that may get built upon. Something, anything than that previous atrocity. I'm currently going for a different look; something that doesn't scream, "HEY CHECK IT OUT I'M USING PHOTOSHOP WEEEEEEEEE!!!!! DISTORT IMAGE DISTORT TEXT DISTORT DISTORT DISTORT"

In all honesty one of the main motives behind creating this blog was to give me a reason to finally learn Photoshop. The covers for the Monthly Mix Brigade are also good practice. It's all in good fun.

p.s. I cannot get enough of the new MELVINS album.

Doctor Jones - "This Happened"

Stuff That Falls Out of Books I Flip Through at Half-Priced Books

One Foot in Babylon - Doctor Jones Mix Sequence #23

This Happened

My Kids in Essence

Opeth - "The Devil's Orchard"

Yesterday's Corn

The Killingfields of Parenthood; or, How I Cope - Part 1 of n

Bad Dream - "Black Blizzard", Yawining Man - "Digital Smoke Signal"

The Calvin Paradox

I'm Already There

Oddments-Turned-Bookmarks

This Happened

One-Thousand Gospels - Doctor Jones Mix Sequence #23

From the Hills

A Pictoral Preview of Next Month's Mixtape

An Absurdly Over-Ambitious-and-Lofty Term Paper Prospectus

A Plethora of Pesky Mr. Popper's Penguins Poster

...exerpt of a High School graduation speech

Blood and Whispers and the Balance Therein

This Happened

The Story So Far...

Fear and Loathing in Sentence Diagramming

Paul is Barefoot

I'm a (unaware) Copycat

Laughing at Laughing

Notes from Contemporary Non-Fiction workshop

As the London Lamps Do - March 2011 BRR Mixtape Brigade

This video has ruined my life

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

...and Suchlike Wonders - February 2011 Mixtape Brigade

Mitchell in the Mornings: Scenario #2 of 2

Pictorial Preview of Febuary's Mixtape

Stuff That Falls Out of Books I Flip Through at Half-Priced Books

Mitchell in the Mornings: Scenario #1 of 2

Basilisk Stare - January 2011 BRR Mixtape Brigade

Because I'm struggling to use my own words...

Life Altering Conversation

All The Happy Accidents - September 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

Worthy Surrogate Videos

Grandpa Makes Noises - August 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

Phaseplane Differential - July 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

A Hodgepodge of Images

Weapon Of Choice

Under the Entry Roar - June 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

Buy the Ticket, Take the Ride

EUIII Muscowy Chapter 2 - The Barbed Web of Diplomacy

Dear Brad Copeland,

Drudgery - May 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

Two Awesome Quotes

This Happened

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

Yes, Max, those are geeks.

Everything you do is a balloon!

Slightly Embellished for Dramatic Effect - April 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

The Ultimate Solution

Fictional Characters I'd Hang Out With

The Beach at Night

Inuit Throat Singing

OH, MY MY MY! - March 2010 Mixtape Brigade

This man is my blood.

soda.

Crack for kids

EUIII Muscowy Chapter 1 - In medias res

The Grand Campaign

For those buried under snow this day:

Three down, eternity more to go!

The Air in Meager Valley - February 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

*New Blog Post*

I was wrong.

The walls are laughing at you.

Muck. - January 2010 BRR Mixtape Brigade

To whom it may concern:

(*Y$h9d9@WD-_@dndn)E)@)#1~!~!!

The Jones legacy

Seeing as how things will be...

*gets all fidgety with anticipation*

Chew on this

Nukes and Good News - December '09 BRR Mixtape Brigade

He's doing it on purpose!

New Blog Post

gets all fidgety with anticipation