Old Testament fetus fetishists who wish to remove any and all reproductive options for women failed in their bid to de-fund Planned Parenthood via their political influence within the Susan G. Komen Foundation for the Cure.
A hostile backlash erupted after it became known the foundation would cease funding breast screenings offered by Planned Parenthood, an organization which promotes reproductive rights in addition to providing general health care information and services for women.
As a result, the foundation announced Friday it would reverse its policy on funding groups under congressional investigation, even when those “investigations” are manufactured by radical, right-wing congressmen like Cliff Stearns and meant only to incite an extremist minority.
At the core of conservative dislike for reproductive rights (a.k.a. abortion) is that it removes from their control the lives they would otherwise destroy via poverty, unemployment, denial of health care and long-term marginalization.
A statement by the Komen Foundation said it was "distressed" by the notion funding changes were made for "political reasons."
Imagine how the rest of us felt.
Score one for the silent majority.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Hat Trick
A hat trick is a trick not performed by guys in tuxedos with sexy assistants, but by heavily-padded, sweaty dudes on ice skates looking to knock the crap out of each other.
It means they’ve scored three goals in a game.
This is typically celebrated with hats being tossed upon the ice by the paying customers in attendance.
While I haven’t scored three goals, I have attempted (and perhaps succeeded) to make three points.
And whether you agree or disagree, you are free to, in the words of Randy Newman, leave your hat on.
In countries more-committed to maintaining at least the appearance of equality than the United States of America, people who brazenly and recklessly steal from the public are punished, not protected.
Case in point is the former head of the Royal Bank of Scotland, Fred Goodwin.
After making disastrous financial decisions which necessitated a 45 billion-pound bail-out by UK taxpayers, and the subsequent loss of thousands of jobs, Goodwin was stripped of his knighthood on Monday by the Queen of England.
His 650,000 pounds-per-year pension was reduced to 342,500.
I applaud his royal title being forcibly removed and his extravagant pension cut. But let’s be clear—this is only a beginning, not an end.
You or I wouldn’t receive so much as a lukewarm reference after such a performance, yet financial atrocities far-worse than Goodwin’s remained virtually unpunished, especially in the U.S.
Last I checked, prison cells remain fully functional throughout this once-great nation of ours. How about it, Mr. Congressman? Does this give you any ideas?
Any ideas at all?
Think it might resonate with a sour electorate devastated by an ongoing recession that shows no signs of abating? Especially in an election year when congressional approval ratings struggle to stay north of those posted for sexual predators?
**********************************************************************************
The very profitable Susan G. Komen Foundation, which has become ubiquitous through its savvy marketing and corporate partnerships for heightening awareness of breast cancer recently had its own awareness of the far-right’s relentless campaign to strip women of their reproductive rights heightened when funding for breast cancer screenings was cut.
The screenings, funded by a Komen grant to Planned Parenthood, were part of a larger effort to provide low-cost reproductive and sexual health services to women who could not otherwise afford them.
The Foundation defended itself by saying that owing to recently-adopted policies, it could no longer provide funding to any group currently under congressional investigation.
That would be Cliff Stearns, a Republican from Florida hell-bent on preventing abortion rights from destroying whatever parts of America Citizens United and unmitigated corporate greed haven’t already decimated.
Komen spokesmen maintained the decision “wasn’t political.”
Yeah, and I'm not really offended.
**********************************************************************************
Finally, in the latest example of Republican marketing genius, legislation which allows non-union employees to receive the same benefits as dues-paying members recently passed in Indiana. This parasitic bill, sure to sap unions of their financial reserves, is cheerily entitled Right To Work.
Isn’t that pretty? Gosh. Don’t we all believe in the right to work? I mean, who doesn’t?
Of course, we already possess it. But who's asking?
It’s another Republican sleight-of-hand passed on an unsuspecting populace kept blind-angry by incessant conservative yammering about transfers of wealth and high taxes and creeping socialism.
In other words, teachers are killing us!
It is my hope the folks who lap this swill up are allergic to wool in their orbital regions. For that would be their best chance at realizing they’ve again had the wool pulled over their eyes by the Republican noise machine.
What this represents is the removal of one more speed bump on the road to slave labor and one-hundred percent profit margins for our overtaxed, overregulated and overburdened corporation.
When oh when are we going to stop penalizing success?
Sniff.
Looks like I'm not the only one who scored three times...
It means they’ve scored three goals in a game.
This is typically celebrated with hats being tossed upon the ice by the paying customers in attendance.
While I haven’t scored three goals, I have attempted (and perhaps succeeded) to make three points.
And whether you agree or disagree, you are free to, in the words of Randy Newman, leave your hat on.
In countries more-committed to maintaining at least the appearance of equality than the United States of America, people who brazenly and recklessly steal from the public are punished, not protected.
Case in point is the former head of the Royal Bank of Scotland, Fred Goodwin.
After making disastrous financial decisions which necessitated a 45 billion-pound bail-out by UK taxpayers, and the subsequent loss of thousands of jobs, Goodwin was stripped of his knighthood on Monday by the Queen of England.
His 650,000 pounds-per-year pension was reduced to 342,500.
I applaud his royal title being forcibly removed and his extravagant pension cut. But let’s be clear—this is only a beginning, not an end.
You or I wouldn’t receive so much as a lukewarm reference after such a performance, yet financial atrocities far-worse than Goodwin’s remained virtually unpunished, especially in the U.S.
Last I checked, prison cells remain fully functional throughout this once-great nation of ours. How about it, Mr. Congressman? Does this give you any ideas?
Any ideas at all?
Think it might resonate with a sour electorate devastated by an ongoing recession that shows no signs of abating? Especially in an election year when congressional approval ratings struggle to stay north of those posted for sexual predators?
**********************************************************************************
The very profitable Susan G. Komen Foundation, which has become ubiquitous through its savvy marketing and corporate partnerships for heightening awareness of breast cancer recently had its own awareness of the far-right’s relentless campaign to strip women of their reproductive rights heightened when funding for breast cancer screenings was cut.
The screenings, funded by a Komen grant to Planned Parenthood, were part of a larger effort to provide low-cost reproductive and sexual health services to women who could not otherwise afford them.
The Foundation defended itself by saying that owing to recently-adopted policies, it could no longer provide funding to any group currently under congressional investigation.
That would be Cliff Stearns, a Republican from Florida hell-bent on preventing abortion rights from destroying whatever parts of America Citizens United and unmitigated corporate greed haven’t already decimated.
Komen spokesmen maintained the decision “wasn’t political.”
Yeah, and I'm not really offended.
**********************************************************************************
Finally, in the latest example of Republican marketing genius, legislation which allows non-union employees to receive the same benefits as dues-paying members recently passed in Indiana. This parasitic bill, sure to sap unions of their financial reserves, is cheerily entitled Right To Work.
Isn’t that pretty? Gosh. Don’t we all believe in the right to work? I mean, who doesn’t?
Of course, we already possess it. But who's asking?
It’s another Republican sleight-of-hand passed on an unsuspecting populace kept blind-angry by incessant conservative yammering about transfers of wealth and high taxes and creeping socialism.
In other words, teachers are killing us!
It is my hope the folks who lap this swill up are allergic to wool in their orbital regions. For that would be their best chance at realizing they’ve again had the wool pulled over their eyes by the Republican noise machine.
What this represents is the removal of one more speed bump on the road to slave labor and one-hundred percent profit margins for our overtaxed, overregulated and overburdened corporation.
When oh when are we going to stop penalizing success?
Sniff.
Looks like I'm not the only one who scored three times...
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Oops!...I Did It Again
It’s never a good day when you look in the mirror and realize it’s not only possible—but probable—you are insane.
You’ve heard insanity defined as the continual repetition of an act with the expectation of a different outcome. And while you’re not sure where this leaves the scientific community, in the context of a job hunt this means you're certifiable.
Worse is the realization you may also be a masochist. The American Heritage Dictionary defines ‘masochism’ thusly:
• A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.
Regrettably, this definition also fits you like an Anne Claiborne dress shirt. In this lottery of emotional impairments, you're a grand prize winner—only you don’t get to meet Linda Kollmeyer.
Because these conditions remove the shield of impulse control, you apply to Kohl’s Department stores a second time. A notice arrived in the mail informing you they are opening a new store in your area, and are staffing it now.
It says to expect great things. You make a note of it.
Because you have a lingering hangover from previous cashiering and customer service positions, you opt for an opening under Replenishment. The word provokes pleasant images of fragrant rain falling on and nurturing parched earth.
This opening likely requires the ability to place consumer goods on store fixtures in a neat and attractive way.
Since you recently shaved and successfully returned the can of shaving gel and a razor to their rightful place on a shelf in the bathroom, you feel reasonably qualified to perform this job.
This doesn’t even begin to take into account the innumerable household items you regularly restore to their proper place on shelves throughout the home. Yes, you have this putting-stuff-on-shelves thing down cold.
As instructed, you arrive at the hotel meeting room twenty-minutes early to fill-out the same forms you filled-out online. You sign sworn affidavits attesting to the fact that if hired, yes, these are the hours you are available, so help you God.
You agree to drug tests and credit checks and criminal history checks and past employment checks. Every conceivable type of check but the ones beginning with 'pay'.
To your chagrin, the first question on the application asks if you have applied to Kohl’s before. Ignoring persistent images of a guillotine blade in free fall, you answer ‘yes’ because you are an indomitable force of nature. You will not be denied a second time.
The room is then informed by a harried twenty-something that these jobs are temporary. The applicants within collectively deflate like a punctured tire. You are positive the word ‘temporary’ did not appear on the flier. You are correct.
You wrestle with the fact you are auditioning for a twelve-hour a week, near minimum-wage job. Then you wrestle with the fact you have no choice. The fact wins.
Returning your attention to the form, you attempt to fit the name of previous employers, their addresses and telephone numbers in boxes similar to the ones coupons use to list their expiration date.
The form then asks you to explain all periods of unemployment. Rage wells up inside your chest. You sigh.
You want to answer that you are unemployed because you used the preceding months to burn through your inheritance while on a meth binge in the Caribbean, accompanied by a dozen Las Vegas strippers.
But that would be snotty. Or disrespectful. Or both. And we wouldn’t want that.
Thankfully, you are not asked why you want to work at Kohl’s. You wonder if you could find a job designing job applications. But then, you have an IQ.
The same twenty-something is now reading names off a list, which are followed by a number. You are assigned to group one. Group one then listlessly trudges off to a meeting room.
At the group interview, you introduce yourself and attempt to put a positive spin on things. You try to sound youthful and vibrant. You want to impart the idea that yes, you are amazing. And if not that, perhaps employable.
But if you could do that, you’d be earning a bundle doing PR for Francesco Schettino, captain of the Costa Concordia.
When asked about recognition from previous employers, you respond that you hit speed and accuracy targets as a scorer of educational assessments and received multiple performance bonuses.
One of the women sitting at the table in the front of the room hears this and scribbles furiously. You allow yourself to believe you have made an impression.
Silly you.
A sharp knock on the door startles everyone. The interviewer announces they will have to abort the interview because they are running behind schedule. She reminds you to submit your completed applications before leaving.
As you walk through the vacant lobby past the darkened gift shop, you cannot shake the feeling that you were at a dress rehearsal for an interview. You cannot imagine what kind of meaningful insight Kohl’s could have received from this exercise.
A week later, you find out.
Despite demonstrating “many qualities”, Kohl’s is unable to offer you a position at this time. You smile to yourself because you know what qualities were demonstrated, and you are relieved.
This is insanity, and you would be a masochist to pursue it. It is time for something different.
You have only to figure out what that is.
You’ve heard insanity defined as the continual repetition of an act with the expectation of a different outcome. And while you’re not sure where this leaves the scientific community, in the context of a job hunt this means you're certifiable.
Worse is the realization you may also be a masochist. The American Heritage Dictionary defines ‘masochism’ thusly:
• A willingness or tendency to subject oneself to unpleasant or trying experiences.
Regrettably, this definition also fits you like an Anne Claiborne dress shirt. In this lottery of emotional impairments, you're a grand prize winner—only you don’t get to meet Linda Kollmeyer.
Because these conditions remove the shield of impulse control, you apply to Kohl’s Department stores a second time. A notice arrived in the mail informing you they are opening a new store in your area, and are staffing it now.
It says to expect great things. You make a note of it.
Because you have a lingering hangover from previous cashiering and customer service positions, you opt for an opening under Replenishment. The word provokes pleasant images of fragrant rain falling on and nurturing parched earth.
This opening likely requires the ability to place consumer goods on store fixtures in a neat and attractive way.
Since you recently shaved and successfully returned the can of shaving gel and a razor to their rightful place on a shelf in the bathroom, you feel reasonably qualified to perform this job.
This doesn’t even begin to take into account the innumerable household items you regularly restore to their proper place on shelves throughout the home. Yes, you have this putting-stuff-on-shelves thing down cold.
As instructed, you arrive at the hotel meeting room twenty-minutes early to fill-out the same forms you filled-out online. You sign sworn affidavits attesting to the fact that if hired, yes, these are the hours you are available, so help you God.
You agree to drug tests and credit checks and criminal history checks and past employment checks. Every conceivable type of check but the ones beginning with 'pay'.
To your chagrin, the first question on the application asks if you have applied to Kohl’s before. Ignoring persistent images of a guillotine blade in free fall, you answer ‘yes’ because you are an indomitable force of nature. You will not be denied a second time.
The room is then informed by a harried twenty-something that these jobs are temporary. The applicants within collectively deflate like a punctured tire. You are positive the word ‘temporary’ did not appear on the flier. You are correct.
You wrestle with the fact you are auditioning for a twelve-hour a week, near minimum-wage job. Then you wrestle with the fact you have no choice. The fact wins.
Returning your attention to the form, you attempt to fit the name of previous employers, their addresses and telephone numbers in boxes similar to the ones coupons use to list their expiration date.
The form then asks you to explain all periods of unemployment. Rage wells up inside your chest. You sigh.
You want to answer that you are unemployed because you used the preceding months to burn through your inheritance while on a meth binge in the Caribbean, accompanied by a dozen Las Vegas strippers.
But that would be snotty. Or disrespectful. Or both. And we wouldn’t want that.
Thankfully, you are not asked why you want to work at Kohl’s. You wonder if you could find a job designing job applications. But then, you have an IQ.
The same twenty-something is now reading names off a list, which are followed by a number. You are assigned to group one. Group one then listlessly trudges off to a meeting room.
At the group interview, you introduce yourself and attempt to put a positive spin on things. You try to sound youthful and vibrant. You want to impart the idea that yes, you are amazing. And if not that, perhaps employable.
But if you could do that, you’d be earning a bundle doing PR for Francesco Schettino, captain of the Costa Concordia.
When asked about recognition from previous employers, you respond that you hit speed and accuracy targets as a scorer of educational assessments and received multiple performance bonuses.
One of the women sitting at the table in the front of the room hears this and scribbles furiously. You allow yourself to believe you have made an impression.
Silly you.
A sharp knock on the door startles everyone. The interviewer announces they will have to abort the interview because they are running behind schedule. She reminds you to submit your completed applications before leaving.
As you walk through the vacant lobby past the darkened gift shop, you cannot shake the feeling that you were at a dress rehearsal for an interview. You cannot imagine what kind of meaningful insight Kohl’s could have received from this exercise.
A week later, you find out.
Despite demonstrating “many qualities”, Kohl’s is unable to offer you a position at this time. You smile to yourself because you know what qualities were demonstrated, and you are relieved.
This is insanity, and you would be a masochist to pursue it. It is time for something different.
You have only to figure out what that is.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
My Favorite CDs of 2011
Like its predecessor, 2011 finds its top ten evenly divided between industry veterans and fresh-faced newbies.
But before I delve into new releases, heaps of archival live albums appeared last year. Neil Young, Pink Floyd, Fairport Convention, Pearl Jam and the Rolling Stones uncorked vintage shows either as stand-alone releases or to round out expanded and remastered packages.
And there were some important re-issues, as U2, the Kinks, Frankie Miller, the Rolling Stones and the Beach Boys had landmark material re-visited and re-released.
I’ll attempt to sort-out this mess o’ product and, in the best-case scenario, provide a guide for the year just ended. Displaying the impeccable manners that are the hallmark of this blog, I’ll start with the old stuff first.
Were it not such a widespread and well-known bootleg, the Rolling Stones’ Brussels Affair would be the hands-down favorite of the vintage concert releases. It’s a resounding and unforgettable show. But it’s hard to get newly worked-up over something you’ve been listening to since the Carter administration.
Which is why I’m naming Fairport Convention’s Ebbets Field 1974 as the year’s best. Snobs may decry the absence of Richard Thompson, but only until they hear it. If you’re lucky, songs like “John the Gun” and “Matty Groves” will act as gateway drugs to what could become a full-blown addiction.
Picking the year’s best re-issue is a little more-difficult. The two-disc Kinks’ re-releases were powerful candidates, especially Face To Face and Arthur. But by the slimmest of margins, I’m picking the Frankie Miller box set, if only because his material has been unavailable in the United States for so long.
While not a box set in the traditional sense (there’s only a couple of B-sides and no previously unreleased material, demos or one-off concert recordings), it presents the entirety of his output for Chrysalis in his seventies prime plus an alternate version of High Life.
For all intent and purposes, Miller should’ve been rocking arenas throughout the late-seventies and into the eighties. But commercial success is a nebulous thing, dependent on many things utterly unrelated to music. At least the catalog of one of rock’s great voices has been restored.
Now to 2011.
1. PJ Harvey – Let England Shake
This isn’t the howling vocalist of yore, but one that uses marimbas, autoharp and muted brass to sculpt striking songs of war and mortality. The inspired "Call to the Post" sample on "The Glorious Land" suggests war is a horse race, and just as consequential.
Check "The Glorious Land" and "Written on the Forehead".
2. TV on the Radio – Nine Types of Light
No one writes intricate melodies (complete with counter melodies) that coalesce into sublimely funky pop overtures the way TV on the Radio does. If Nine Types of Light appears to tail off in the second half, that’s only because four of the album’s first five tracks are absolutely brilliant.
Check "You" and "Killer Crane".
3. Raphael Saadiq – Stone Rollin’
The former Tony! Toni! Tone! front man finds his voice on this towering fusion of rhythm and blues, soul, pop and blues. From the razor-edged strut of the title track to the smooth soul of "Movin’ Down the Line", Stone Rollin’ is all good, all the time.
Check "Go To Hell" and the title track.
4. The Black Keys – El Camino
This is the album I wanted Brothers to be; fuzz-toned stomp that is as habit-forming as Spicy Nacho Doritos. And unlike its forebearer, Messrs. Auerbach and Carney have herewith worked-up eleven indelible and indestructable melodies on El Camino for your listening pleasure.
Check "Dead and Gone" and "Gold on the Ceiling".
5. David Kilgour and the Heavy Eights – Left by Soft
The Clean’s David Kilgour has received much belated recognition for his singular guitar-playing, and it’s duly highlighted on the six-minute epic "Diamond Mine". But it’s Left by Soft’s more-modest pleasures that land the album here.
Check "Pop Song" and "Diamond Mine".
6. Fairport Convention – Ebbets Field 1974
Along with the Move, Fairport Convention were one of the most unjustly ignored (in the U.S., anyway) bands of the late-sixties and early-seventies. This 1974 concert proves that ultimately, the strength of any band is its songs. For even sans RT, they cast a haunting, unforgettable spell.
Check both tracks listed above.
7. Nicki Bluhm – Driftwood
This album really shines when Bluhm and husband Tim pair-up for their plaintive and heartfelt harmonizing. Even when they don’t, its country-ish Americana is fine. But in the tradition of George Jones and Tammy Wynette, it’s best when they do.
Check "Women’s Prison" and "Wall of Early Morning Light".
8. The Feelies – Here Before
Reunion tours and reunion albums usually make me squeamish. But leave it to the Feelies to upend convention. Here Before sounds like a year or two passed since their last, and not a couple of decades. Does this mean the Feelies are timeless? Probably.
Check "Should Be Gone" and "Way Down".
9. James Walbourne – Drugs and Money EP
While his earlier full-length was completely competent, Drugs and Money raises Walbourne’s craft to a whole new level. Be it the weathered Americana of "Drugs and Money" or the highland hoedown that is "Hillbilly Crack", this EP reeks of soul and fire.
Check both of the aforementioned tracks.
10. Tune-Yards – Whokill
The jagged jump-cut musicality of Whokill can be as startling as it is fractured, but when it works, it’s as bracing a breath of fresh air as was heard in 2011. And the buoyant undercurrent of Afro-Pop that holds it all together is just a bonus.
Check "My Country" and "Powa".
Honorable Mentions:
Admiral Fallow - Boots Met My Face
The Bats – Free All the Monsters
REM – Collapse Into Now
Neil Young – A Treasure
But before I delve into new releases, heaps of archival live albums appeared last year. Neil Young, Pink Floyd, Fairport Convention, Pearl Jam and the Rolling Stones uncorked vintage shows either as stand-alone releases or to round out expanded and remastered packages.
And there were some important re-issues, as U2, the Kinks, Frankie Miller, the Rolling Stones and the Beach Boys had landmark material re-visited and re-released.
I’ll attempt to sort-out this mess o’ product and, in the best-case scenario, provide a guide for the year just ended. Displaying the impeccable manners that are the hallmark of this blog, I’ll start with the old stuff first.
Were it not such a widespread and well-known bootleg, the Rolling Stones’ Brussels Affair would be the hands-down favorite of the vintage concert releases. It’s a resounding and unforgettable show. But it’s hard to get newly worked-up over something you’ve been listening to since the Carter administration.
Which is why I’m naming Fairport Convention’s Ebbets Field 1974 as the year’s best. Snobs may decry the absence of Richard Thompson, but only until they hear it. If you’re lucky, songs like “John the Gun” and “Matty Groves” will act as gateway drugs to what could become a full-blown addiction.
Picking the year’s best re-issue is a little more-difficult. The two-disc Kinks’ re-releases were powerful candidates, especially Face To Face and Arthur. But by the slimmest of margins, I’m picking the Frankie Miller box set, if only because his material has been unavailable in the United States for so long.
While not a box set in the traditional sense (there’s only a couple of B-sides and no previously unreleased material, demos or one-off concert recordings), it presents the entirety of his output for Chrysalis in his seventies prime plus an alternate version of High Life.
For all intent and purposes, Miller should’ve been rocking arenas throughout the late-seventies and into the eighties. But commercial success is a nebulous thing, dependent on many things utterly unrelated to music. At least the catalog of one of rock’s great voices has been restored.
Now to 2011.
1. PJ Harvey – Let England Shake
This isn’t the howling vocalist of yore, but one that uses marimbas, autoharp and muted brass to sculpt striking songs of war and mortality. The inspired "Call to the Post" sample on "The Glorious Land" suggests war is a horse race, and just as consequential.
Check "The Glorious Land" and "Written on the Forehead".
2. TV on the Radio – Nine Types of Light
No one writes intricate melodies (complete with counter melodies) that coalesce into sublimely funky pop overtures the way TV on the Radio does. If Nine Types of Light appears to tail off in the second half, that’s only because four of the album’s first five tracks are absolutely brilliant.
Check "You" and "Killer Crane".
3. Raphael Saadiq – Stone Rollin’
The former Tony! Toni! Tone! front man finds his voice on this towering fusion of rhythm and blues, soul, pop and blues. From the razor-edged strut of the title track to the smooth soul of "Movin’ Down the Line", Stone Rollin’ is all good, all the time.
Check "Go To Hell" and the title track.
4. The Black Keys – El Camino
This is the album I wanted Brothers to be; fuzz-toned stomp that is as habit-forming as Spicy Nacho Doritos. And unlike its forebearer, Messrs. Auerbach and Carney have herewith worked-up eleven indelible and indestructable melodies on El Camino for your listening pleasure.
Check "Dead and Gone" and "Gold on the Ceiling".
5. David Kilgour and the Heavy Eights – Left by Soft
The Clean’s David Kilgour has received much belated recognition for his singular guitar-playing, and it’s duly highlighted on the six-minute epic "Diamond Mine". But it’s Left by Soft’s more-modest pleasures that land the album here.
Check "Pop Song" and "Diamond Mine".
6. Fairport Convention – Ebbets Field 1974
Along with the Move, Fairport Convention were one of the most unjustly ignored (in the U.S., anyway) bands of the late-sixties and early-seventies. This 1974 concert proves that ultimately, the strength of any band is its songs. For even sans RT, they cast a haunting, unforgettable spell.
Check both tracks listed above.
7. Nicki Bluhm – Driftwood
This album really shines when Bluhm and husband Tim pair-up for their plaintive and heartfelt harmonizing. Even when they don’t, its country-ish Americana is fine. But in the tradition of George Jones and Tammy Wynette, it’s best when they do.
Check "Women’s Prison" and "Wall of Early Morning Light".
8. The Feelies – Here Before
Reunion tours and reunion albums usually make me squeamish. But leave it to the Feelies to upend convention. Here Before sounds like a year or two passed since their last, and not a couple of decades. Does this mean the Feelies are timeless? Probably.
Check "Should Be Gone" and "Way Down".
9. James Walbourne – Drugs and Money EP
While his earlier full-length was completely competent, Drugs and Money raises Walbourne’s craft to a whole new level. Be it the weathered Americana of "Drugs and Money" or the highland hoedown that is "Hillbilly Crack", this EP reeks of soul and fire.
Check both of the aforementioned tracks.
10. Tune-Yards – Whokill
The jagged jump-cut musicality of Whokill can be as startling as it is fractured, but when it works, it’s as bracing a breath of fresh air as was heard in 2011. And the buoyant undercurrent of Afro-Pop that holds it all together is just a bonus.
Check "My Country" and "Powa".
Honorable Mentions:
Admiral Fallow - Boots Met My Face
The Bats – Free All the Monsters
REM – Collapse Into Now
Neil Young – A Treasure
Monday, January 2, 2012
To the Unemployed...
...who understand that fifty is the new seventy.
...who understand deeply and resolutely that, yes, it can happen to you.
...who, just for a change, would like to hear the phrase ‘stay positive’ from someone who is actually unemployed.
...who are able to withstand being judged by that supreme arbitrator of worth known as Corporate America.
...who understand that America’s labor force consists of just two groups: the unemployed and hostages.
...who understand that ‘unemployed' means in 2012 what 'colored' did a hundred years earlier.
...who understand the purpose of the question "Are you currently employed?" and answer yes with the specific intent of accomplishing what the question was expressly created to avoid, which is the wasting of an employer’s valuable time on an unemployed candidate.
(Don’t you feel horrible?)
May you always possess the faith of Mother Teresa and the persistence of Sisyphus.
You are my heroes.
...who understand deeply and resolutely that, yes, it can happen to you.
...who, just for a change, would like to hear the phrase ‘stay positive’ from someone who is actually unemployed.
...who are able to withstand being judged by that supreme arbitrator of worth known as Corporate America.
...who understand that America’s labor force consists of just two groups: the unemployed and hostages.
...who understand that ‘unemployed' means in 2012 what 'colored' did a hundred years earlier.
...who understand the purpose of the question "Are you currently employed?" and answer yes with the specific intent of accomplishing what the question was expressly created to avoid, which is the wasting of an employer’s valuable time on an unemployed candidate.
(Don’t you feel horrible?)
May you always possess the faith of Mother Teresa and the persistence of Sisyphus.
You are my heroes.
Friday, December 30, 2011
An Appreciation of the X-Files
TV is an easy target for social critics like me. Too easy. Which is why I usually refrain from ranting about it here. But every once in a while, something goes wrong. The lowest common denominator filters that usually guard against this sort of thing fail and we the people end up with something new and different.
Such is the case with The X-Files.
For four seasons and most of a fifth, The X-Files provided some of the best, most-compelling television of the twentieth century. Episodes stuffed with government conspiracies and unspeakable monsters terrorized our imaginations when they weren’t provoking double takes with their wry, left-of-center humor.
It was new and unique and reliably disturbing.
Not so unique were the problems that plagued it: the spiraling demands of newly-famous actors, writers, producers and directors, in addition to a dearth of fresh storylines.
Tired of the weekly commutes between his home in Los Angeles and the show’s set in Vancouver, David Duchovny successfully lobbied for filming to be moved to L.A. While not always sufficiently camouflaged to resemble Iowa or New Jersey, British Columbia nevertheless provided X-Files with just the backdrop its scripts demanded.
The moody, dank clime was ideal for spawning Fluke Man or the crazed victim of one too many alien abductions. The shadowy light acted as a metaphor, underscoring the morally-ambivalent world Scully and Mulder inhabited. Despite the convenience, sunny SoCal just wasn’t the same.
And it was probably inevitable that there would one day be a lack of original scripts. If producing one for a movie is difficult, imagine the demands of two-dozen a season for a TV series. Season five revealed the first signs of full-blown fatigue, and where a reliance on soap opera plots reared its ugly head.
Scully is abducted. Scully has cancer. Scully can’t have babies. While the first two of these developments actually came to light near the end of the fourth season, they are taken to their melodramatic extremes in season five. One has only to watch the insufferable two-parter Christmas Carol and Emily to see the depths to which X-Files could fall.
But I come to praise X-Files, not bury it.
The X-Files was Star Trek and Night Gallery and CSI all rolled into one. No other series had ever fused such disparate genres so successfully. And when it chose to be funny, its humor was as sharp as it was unexpected. Sure, some of the conspiracy plots were more labyrinthine than The Big Sleep. But it scared us and challenged us and made us laugh.
And if that moment in Unruhe when Scully realizes she is confronting the suspect in a series of gruesome murders while alone in a gutted building undergoing rehab isn’t the most chilling in television history, I don’t know what is.
These days, X-Files would air on a premium cable channel, and not network TV. Only those with hundreds of dollars to spend on TV each month would be privileged enough to enjoy its compelling scripts, distinctive look and appealing cast. I am forever grateful it was not.
What follows is a highly-subjective list of my favorite episodes. They appear in order of broadcast because attempting to order them any other way would cause my hair to fall out. Not surprisingly, they also skew heavily to the first four seasons, since those had first crack at my imagination.
Comments welcome.
Top Ten:
Beyond the Sea
Irresistible
Dod Calm
Humbug
Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose
Grotesque
Pusher
Wetwired
Unruhe
Small Potatoes
Honorable Mentions:
Miracle Man
Duane Barry/Ascension
Excelsis Dei
Aubrey
Die Hand Die Verletzt
War of the Coprophages
Syzygy
Hell Money
Quagmire
Bad Blood
Such is the case with The X-Files.
For four seasons and most of a fifth, The X-Files provided some of the best, most-compelling television of the twentieth century. Episodes stuffed with government conspiracies and unspeakable monsters terrorized our imaginations when they weren’t provoking double takes with their wry, left-of-center humor.
It was new and unique and reliably disturbing.
Not so unique were the problems that plagued it: the spiraling demands of newly-famous actors, writers, producers and directors, in addition to a dearth of fresh storylines.
Tired of the weekly commutes between his home in Los Angeles and the show’s set in Vancouver, David Duchovny successfully lobbied for filming to be moved to L.A. While not always sufficiently camouflaged to resemble Iowa or New Jersey, British Columbia nevertheless provided X-Files with just the backdrop its scripts demanded.
The moody, dank clime was ideal for spawning Fluke Man or the crazed victim of one too many alien abductions. The shadowy light acted as a metaphor, underscoring the morally-ambivalent world Scully and Mulder inhabited. Despite the convenience, sunny SoCal just wasn’t the same.
And it was probably inevitable that there would one day be a lack of original scripts. If producing one for a movie is difficult, imagine the demands of two-dozen a season for a TV series. Season five revealed the first signs of full-blown fatigue, and where a reliance on soap opera plots reared its ugly head.
Scully is abducted. Scully has cancer. Scully can’t have babies. While the first two of these developments actually came to light near the end of the fourth season, they are taken to their melodramatic extremes in season five. One has only to watch the insufferable two-parter Christmas Carol and Emily to see the depths to which X-Files could fall.
But I come to praise X-Files, not bury it.
The X-Files was Star Trek and Night Gallery and CSI all rolled into one. No other series had ever fused such disparate genres so successfully. And when it chose to be funny, its humor was as sharp as it was unexpected. Sure, some of the conspiracy plots were more labyrinthine than The Big Sleep. But it scared us and challenged us and made us laugh.
And if that moment in Unruhe when Scully realizes she is confronting the suspect in a series of gruesome murders while alone in a gutted building undergoing rehab isn’t the most chilling in television history, I don’t know what is.
These days, X-Files would air on a premium cable channel, and not network TV. Only those with hundreds of dollars to spend on TV each month would be privileged enough to enjoy its compelling scripts, distinctive look and appealing cast. I am forever grateful it was not.
What follows is a highly-subjective list of my favorite episodes. They appear in order of broadcast because attempting to order them any other way would cause my hair to fall out. Not surprisingly, they also skew heavily to the first four seasons, since those had first crack at my imagination.
Comments welcome.
Top Ten:
Beyond the Sea
Irresistible
Dod Calm
Humbug
Clyde Bruckman’s Final Repose
Grotesque
Pusher
Wetwired
Unruhe
Small Potatoes
Honorable Mentions:
Miracle Man
Duane Barry/Ascension
Excelsis Dei
Aubrey
Die Hand Die Verletzt
War of the Coprophages
Syzygy
Hell Money
Quagmire
Bad Blood
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
Giving It Away
Silly me. I thought my employer paid me because I enhanced their profitability. By providing a skill, I enabled them to bring a product or service to market better or faster or more-efficiently.
Now I find that business is actually performing a public service by employing me. Who knew employment was a charitable act, done to protect America's labor force from the horrors of daytime TV?
What else to think after seeing so many of Illinois’ corporate citizens approach our bankrupt state government and request tax relief and deferments and subsidies? To hear them tell it, the employment they offer is a radiant act of selflessness equal to anything Mother Teresa ever did in India.
Employees aren’t the drop of oil or bit of grease that expedites the profit-making machinery. No. Employees are the ungrateful beneficiaries of really nice guys just trying to do the right thing.
According to our newly emboldened business class, they should be subsidized because they employ people. (Kindly ignore the fact they benefit enormously from this employment.) And pay them. And because they pay people, they themselves should be paid—even though they already are.
Confused? Me, too. But not to worry. This makes perfect sense in executive suites and in the GOP national headquarters.
If gigantic multi-national corporations aren’t our biggest parasites, who is? Is there anyone who finds something even a little objectionable about billion-dollar corporations extorting bankrupt state governments for whatever spare change might be lying around?
Do the words necrophilia or rape spring to mind? Leech? How about entitlement? They should.
Struggling telecommunications giant Motorola got $100 million from the state of Illinois for not leaving. Struggling retail giant Sears yesterday received $150 million in tax credits and will receive another $125 million in property tax relief for, again, not leaving.
The CME Group, which owns the Chicago Mercantile Exchange and the Board of Trade has also received welfare, the exact nature of which is unknown. CME also threatened to leave.
Sniff.
And those are just the most-recent cases. My manners would be showing if I neglected to mention Navistar, Chrysler, Continental Tire and U.S. Cellular.
As consumers, our options are limited. The governor is also in a spot. Call the guilty parties out in public and you risk ruffling their feathers and having these Vito Corleone wanna-bes make good on their threats.
Pay the scumbags and you outrage the public, especially when cuts to public transit, health care and education are deep and widespread. And don't forget, the public still votes.
The best response is a public boycott. Let consumer-dependent companies like Motorola and Sears know how the tax-paying public feels about extortion. Especially for an entity that has received the bounty of government largesse our corporations have.
While we’re sensitive to the fact it costs a lot of money to make a lot of money, it’s not all gravy, all the time. In other words, the one-hundred percent profit margin will remain a fantasy—at least until the next Republican president signs the slave labor mandate.
Besides, whatever happened to the small government ideal, anyway? Oh that’s right—that’s unless it can shovel a mountain of public cash into your sweaty, clutching hands. Got it.
It’s Christmas, folks. Companies like Motorola and Sears are never more vulnerable than now. We should strenuously and obstreperously not be okay with this.
Ever.
Now I find that business is actually performing a public service by employing me. Who knew employment was a charitable act, done to protect America's labor force from the horrors of daytime TV?
What else to think after seeing so many of Illinois’ corporate citizens approach our bankrupt state government and request tax relief and deferments and subsidies? To hear them tell it, the employment they offer is a radiant act of selflessness equal to anything Mother Teresa ever did in India.
Employees aren’t the drop of oil or bit of grease that expedites the profit-making machinery. No. Employees are the ungrateful beneficiaries of really nice guys just trying to do the right thing.
According to our newly emboldened business class, they should be subsidized because they employ people. (Kindly ignore the fact they benefit enormously from this employment.) And pay them. And because they pay people, they themselves should be paid—even though they already are.
Confused? Me, too. But not to worry. This makes perfect sense in executive suites and in the GOP national headquarters.
If gigantic multi-national corporations aren’t our biggest parasites, who is? Is there anyone who finds something even a little objectionable about billion-dollar corporations extorting bankrupt state governments for whatever spare change might be lying around?
Do the words necrophilia or rape spring to mind? Leech? How about entitlement? They should.
Struggling telecommunications giant Motorola got $100 million from the state of Illinois for not leaving. Struggling retail giant Sears yesterday received $150 million in tax credits and will receive another $125 million in property tax relief for, again, not leaving.
The CME Group, which owns the Chicago Mercantile Exchange and the Board of Trade has also received welfare, the exact nature of which is unknown. CME also threatened to leave.
Sniff.
And those are just the most-recent cases. My manners would be showing if I neglected to mention Navistar, Chrysler, Continental Tire and U.S. Cellular.
As consumers, our options are limited. The governor is also in a spot. Call the guilty parties out in public and you risk ruffling their feathers and having these Vito Corleone wanna-bes make good on their threats.
Pay the scumbags and you outrage the public, especially when cuts to public transit, health care and education are deep and widespread. And don't forget, the public still votes.
The best response is a public boycott. Let consumer-dependent companies like Motorola and Sears know how the tax-paying public feels about extortion. Especially for an entity that has received the bounty of government largesse our corporations have.
While we’re sensitive to the fact it costs a lot of money to make a lot of money, it’s not all gravy, all the time. In other words, the one-hundred percent profit margin will remain a fantasy—at least until the next Republican president signs the slave labor mandate.
Besides, whatever happened to the small government ideal, anyway? Oh that’s right—that’s unless it can shovel a mountain of public cash into your sweaty, clutching hands. Got it.
It’s Christmas, folks. Companies like Motorola and Sears are never more vulnerable than now. We should strenuously and obstreperously not be okay with this.
Ever.
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