A Schizotypal Review of Moneyball
Posted by Keith Spillett in Articles I Probably Shouldn't Have Bothered Writing, Blithering Sports Fan Prattle on January 17, 2012
(Middle-aged woman with red hair walks on the elevator. I am pacing back and forth. My facial muscles are twitching. I begin saying “Vermont” over and over in a loud voice for no particular reason)
Me: Vermont….vermontvermontvermont…..VERMONT!!!!
Woman: (frightened) Sir, are you okay?
Me: No. No. I’m not okay. I’m NOT okay. I’m not OKAY ALRIGHT!!!!
You know why? Do you? Moneyball. That’s the problem. Moneyball. I stayed up all night watching that film. Over and over. I read the book. I mean, I loved the book. It fueled my deep and undying passion for baseball stats. It was fascinating. VERMONT! I mean, Michael Lewis is a heck of a writer. But….THE MOVIE!!!! Ehhhhh!!!! Vermont!
Woman: (staring straight ahead in utter terror) The….movie?
Me: It’s absurd. Absurd! They turned the thing into a Merchant-Ivory picture! All the edge of a five-year-old butter knife. All the dullness of Out of Africa with the “fight the system”, Occupy Someplace message that Americans love. Mr. Smith Goes To Oakland. Blah blah blah. Of course, the big climax is the film is the main character turning down a whale’s colon full of money for “the love of the game”. If there was ever a part of me that didn’t want so see Hollywood attacked by human eating vultures it died in that moment. VERMONT!!!!!!
Woman: Buh…
Me: Good lord! How many shots of that stupid “Awwww shucks”, wax-lipped expression on Brad Pitt’s stupid face can one man handle? Who wants to watch this guy do a 2-hour impression of the offensive line coach at Auburn? And the fat kid? What’s his deal!!?!! If I was Paul DePodesta I’d rather them got Anthony Perkins to play me. They even put hipsters in baseball movies now for godsakes. VERMONT!!!!!! And his daughter?!? Good lord! They put her in the movie twice for the sole purpose of playing that god-awful song. TWICE!!! Awful! Those noises she makes. She sounds like a porpoise giving birth…
Woman: (reaching into her purse for either a whistle or pepper spray) Sir, please…….
Me: Look! You asked me what I thought about the film! I hated it. Vermont! If you watched the film you’d think the A’s only had Scott Hatteberg, Chad Bradford and David Justice. They had Zito! Mulder! Hudson! Dye! Tejada! Harang! Ramon Hernandez! Not a one of those guys were Moneyballers. And their division sucked! Those were also factors….don’t you think??????
Woman: Uhmmmm….
Me: You’d think Billy Beane had a blind second baseman and 9-year-old playing catcher. You’d think Billy Beane climbed Mount Mariah and talked the good lord out of making Abraham sacrifice his son. You’d think he cured smallpox by dialing a few numbers into his computer. VER—–MONT!!!!!
Woman: Sir!
Me: And another thing, what did Art Howe ever do to become the worst movie villain since Jack Nicholson put on face paint? Sure, he wasn’t exactly a great manager, but watching this film you’d think he had Frank Menechino’s liver with some fava beans and a nice Chianti. He’s an American League manager! Of course, he’s cold and disinterested! You would be too if you had to watch 162 games a year without even getting to call one double switch. Let’s face it, it’s the most mind-numbing job this side of being Underwear Inspector Number 8 at the Hanes Factory.
Woman: (angrily) Are you finished?
Me: Am I finished?!? Am I finished?!? VermontvermontVERMONT! You know what stings the worst. The reviews! Reading reviewer after reviewer practically break their collective arms trying to heap praise on this piece of garbage because the director “gets out of the way and let’s the film tell it’s story.” According to most of the Gatekeepers of Good Taste, the best thing an American director can aspire to be is irrelevant. Where are the 12-minute tracking shots? Where is the juxtaposition between Billy Beane and a Chicago Slaughterhouse in the 1890s? No homage to Eisenstein’s Odessa Step Sequence? Only two films get made in Hollywood anymore, the one about the likeable but eccentric character triumphing over some overblown problem or the one about the co-ed trapped in an elevator who can only survive by gnawing off her own leg. America used to stand for something! Is this really the best we can do? VERMONT!!!!
(Elevator Dings)
Woman: (finally looking at me with a deeply concerned expression)This is my floor. I’m going to go now.
Me: Thanks for listening.
Woman: You bet.
Four Of A Perfect Kind: An Exercise in Platonic Horror
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on January 11, 2012
“Death is not the worst that can happen to men.” -Plato
There aren’t many things that scare me. I’ve been around a time or two and have seen some awful things. Sure, I’m afraid of death, just like everyone else. But, I think I’ve made my peace with it. There are things far worse than death out there. When I wake up in the middle of the night, in a cold sweat, filled with pure panic, it’s not death that’s staring back at me. It is something far more hideous. It is the number four.
You’ve seen a thousand fours in your life. They are everywhere. Four noble truths, four great elements, four horseman of the apocalypse, four letter words, the number four Bobby Orr, the list goes on and on. What they are used for is not important. It is what those fours ARE that is lurking behind every door, just behind the shadows, just out of reach. It is what those fours ARE that is haunting me. No matter how hard I try I cannot escape.
Because, you see, there are plenty of uses for the number four, but there is only truly one four. It is indivisible, it is unstoppable, it is perfect, it is irreducible and it is after me. I try to tell people what’s going on, but they don’t believe me. I explained my predicament friend the other day about my problem and he laughed. He drew the number four on a piece of paper and ripped it up. “Now you’re safe,” he chuckled.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Fool! He doesn’t understand. It’s not some absurd, half-witted drawing of the number four that strikes fear into my heart. I’m not scared of what can be done with four; I am utterly terrified of what it is. The perfect platonic form of four. Four in all its grotesque fourness. The ideal four. The world is filled with four imitators, trying to fake fournesss, trying to be useful, trying to help us count all of the pointless presences around us. But, I have SEEN four. The real one. The root of all fourness. And, worse, it knows I have seen it.
Oh platonic four, if I could take back that one time my eyes shot open in the middle of the night and I saw you hovering above my bed, I would. Everything was fine before that night. I wandered through this odd fantasy world of illusion that we call life with full belief in the forms that surrounded me. Then, I saw you and was forever changed. I had seen a lifetime of fours, but never any as perfect as this one. In that moment, I understood all other fours to be impostors. They did not have your straightness, they did not have your smoothness, they could not measure up.
What my eyes witnessed forever corrupted my being. At first, I looked for the perfect four everywhere. I needed to see it once more. I needed to know it and be connected with its truth. I wanted to be by its side. I wanted it to show me that there was more to this life than incompleteness and wandering. I longed for one more fleeting glimpse of its timeless perfection.
A horrible thing began to dawn on me. What if I wasn’t meant to see it? What if my accidental encounter had doomed me? What if the perfect four was looking for me with the same fury that I searched for it? All at once, I knew. I began to sense its presence everywhere I went. It was stalking me. Waiting for me to let my guard down. Hunting me.
I was at the supermarket looking at the oranges and suddenly; I saw it out of the corner of my eye. It was hiding behind the walnuts and almonds. Waiting to consume me whole. It sensed my glance and began to move towards me. I dropped my grocery basket and ran out of the store screaming. I didn’t stop until I got to my car. Which was the right key? There it was dashing across the parking lot like a rabid dog. No one saw it but me. It raced towards me. Finally, I pushed the key into the lock, got in the car and sped away.
I have been hiding from it ever since. Held up in a dingy motel room passing my final hours. I have this lingering sense that it knows where I am and is toying with me. Enjoying my suffering. Laughing at me. I went through a day or two thinking I could destroy it. I repeated 3 plus 1 equals 5 for hours on end. I figured if I denied the truth of its inevitability I could make it go away. However, my mind is no match for the perfection of its form. A mere string of thoughts could not slow its terrible, astonishing inertia for even a second.
I prepared for my final showdown with four. I would wait for it. I would catch it by surprise and break it into a million pieces. I would hit it with a hammer. Shoot it with a gun. Cut it up with a chainsaw. Melt it with a blowtorch. Something. Anything.
All resistance is absurd. I know this. Four is indestructible. It has no parts. It is endless and deathless. It wasn’t created and cannot be destroyed. It was here before we were and will be here forever after. If I dropped a million nuclear bombs on the world the number four sustain as much as a dent. It is beyond law, beyond meaning, beyond understanding. Unstoppable.
I feel its presence getting closer now. Through the trees. Into the parking lot. Past the couple putting luggage in their trunk. Up the back stairs. Past the ice machine. Outside the door. Inside the door. Across the room from me. Next to me. Inside of me. Finally….
Dickey Eaten By Mountain Lions, Mets Sign Christian Knuckleballer Tebow
Posted by Keith Spillett in Blithering Sports Fan Prattle on January 9, 2012
(Editors Note: The following was written during Mr. Spillett’s regular Saturday journey to Quarg, a parallel dimension located in the Glyming Galaxy. In this dimension, fortunately, Tebow Time and Tebow Mania do not exist)
Betsy, The Mountain Lion That Consumed Dickey's Pitching Hand
Things keep getting worse for the New York Mets. Following a dreadful 2011 campaign, the Mets most reliable starter, R.A. Dickey, was consumed this week by a pack of snarling mountain loins on his quest to climb Mount Kilimanjaro. Dickey, who finished 2011 with a sterling 3.28 ERA, was ripped to shreds only moments before he reached the top of the mountain leaving the Mets 2012 playoff hopes in tatters.
However, things might be starting to look up. The Mets today signed knuckleballer and former NFL quarterback Tim Tebow. Tebow, who was released by the Broncos yesterday after throwing 12 interceptions in the first quarter against a Pittsburgh Steeler defense that was using 11 defensive linemen, was snapped up immediately by the pitching starved Mets.
Tebow, who hasn’t pitched a baseball game since he was an 11-year-old little leaguer, was shocked at first by the offer. He had counted on spending a good portion of his adult life underthrowing open receivers in the NFL. But, a chance to pitch for an organization poised on the brink of greatness, like the Mets, was too much to refuse.
The question is, can Tebow pitch in the majors? Sandy Alderson certainly thinks so. After watching Tebow throw wobbly, erratic passes to no one in particular, the Mets GM began to believe that he is a natural knuckleball pitcher. Scientists have studied the motion of the ball leaving Tebow’s hand and are at a loss to explain it. “It’s as if the ball is being guided by a drunken stumbling vagrant,” said NASA Chief Physicist Aaron Bowles. Alderson, however, believes its trajectory is reminiscent of how the ball used to leave Phil Niekro’s hand.
Alderson believes that if Tebow could make a baseball do what he does with a football, he could be virtually unhittable. Beyond his potential, Alderson was impressed by Tebow’s willingness to pitch for free. The Mets, who project their payroll to be somewhere around 150 dollars next season were looking for a low risk, low reward signing to eat innings for them. Tebow seemed to fit the mold perfectly.
Alderson also admitted he was excited about the idea of Tebow bringing positive attention to a franchise that has spent the better part of the last five years being treated like a leper colony. “Who wouldn’t be moved by the story of a kid from an upper middle class family, who represents the most popular religion in the United States defying the odds and becoming successful? The chances were one in a million. He’s an underdog in every sense of the word,” said a teary-eyed Alderson.
Ralph Waldo Emerson Quotes That Are So Great People Repeat Them Over And Over
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on January 1, 2012
I wanted to start the New Year off with some valuable, insightful nuggets of wisdom from the most quoted man in American history, Ralph Waldo Emerson. Here are a few particularly brilliant ones that have touched me at nearly every level of my being. Hopefully, you can carry these words with you as we embark on a journey into another year of wonder and beauty. This is my gift to you, dear reader. May they fill your days with sunshine and your nights with endless darkness.
“A dreamer is a person who is asleep and is thinking about things.”
“A man of genius is a man who can find a way to make large amounts of money in a short period of time without going to federal prison.”
“If you follow the path, you will eventually find the thing you were looking for. Unless that thing is at the beginning of the path. Then, you’ve missed it. But, you can always go back. Unless there is a gate that automatically closes when you go through it. Or guards. With rifles.”
“Make sure that you live each and every day as if you were going to be hit by a bus at any second.”
“Live your dreams, except for the one where you are trapped in a cow’s stomach.”
“Thoreau spent a night in jail and a few years in the woods and suddenly he has something to say. No one has ever gotten more out of less suffering. Y’all act like he was Job or something.”
“As we grow old, we tend to wrinkle more. Like a shirt.”
“Democracy is a good way to get people to go along with absurd rules and even believe they had some role in their creation. If that doesn’t work, tell them they are going to hell if they don’t obey.”
“Children are vile. Except in soup.”
“Don’t waste your life on useless things like going to work, personal hygiene or repairing misunderstandings. Live as if you are going to die and you don’t really want anyone at your funeral.”
“Finish each day as if it’s 11:59 PM.”
“A confident man is someone who catches fire and asks for a cigarette.”
“Live in the sunshine every moment of the day or night. Drink water directly from the ocean. Eat poorly prepared, undercooked meat. Pretend no rules apply to you.”
“Nothing can bring you peace except for the extinction of the other 7 billion parasites around you.”
“Nothing great was ever achieved without a fawning and deluded public.”
“Shallow men believe that getting hair restoration will make them attractive to 22-year-old women. Smart men know that it’s better to pay them directly.”
“The world belongs to those who have lots of money. Or an army.”
“Tis a good person who would be willing to give up a kidney to save a friend. Tis an idiot who would give up a lung.”
“We all boil rice differently.”
“Whoso would begin a quote with the term “whoso” is probably trying to say something that is pretty simple but might appear to be more complex due to the use of arcane language.”
“It’s easy to be misunderstood when you mumble.”
“For every genius, there are 100 men smarter than him who have bad breath.”
“When times are difficult, buy gold and help no one.”
“The reward of doing something well is watching someone come along and carelessly screw things up.”
“Remember that guy who sat behind you in health class in 10th grade and stuck a paperclip up his nose and had to have surgery. He now runs a bank.”
Exclusive Interview With Megadeth’s Dave Mustaine
Posted by Keith Spillett in People Who Were Willing To Speak To Me on December 30, 2011
Metal Legend Dave Mustaine
Last week, while I was at the Hot Topic in the North Dekalb Mall buying my four year old son a “Blessthefall” hoodie, the most improbable thing took place. I started talking about heavy metal music with the guy in front of me and he mentioned that he was Dave Mustaine from the band Megadeth. I was blown away! I’ve been a huge fan of them for years. I couldn’t let an opportunity of a lifetime go away, so I asked Mr. Mustaine if he was willing to do an interview with me. In exchange for a large Orange Julius, he agreed to sit down with me in the Food Court and answer some questions.
Tyranny: Mr. Mustaine, it’s an honor to meet you. Thanks so much for your time.
Mustaine: (slurping at his drink) It’s your dime, pal.
Tyranny: Well, first let’s get through the tough stuff. You were kicked out of Metallica a long time ago. Do you still have any anger towards them?
Mustaine: Don’t try to trip me up, buddy. I am in the band Megadeth. M-E-G-A-D-E-A-T-H! The Julius is going fast. Hurry up.
Tyranny: Okay, uhmm, well you have talked about aliens a lot in your music. Do you really believe the government is hiding their existence from us?
Mustaine: Look bro (looking around suspiciously and lowering his voice). I can tell you for sure they are real. And not just in that Hangar 13 in Arkansas. I see a guy in here all the time. He always pretends he’s going to buy a Build-A-Bear. Everyday he’s in here. You know why, man? He’s studying us. Sizing us up. Looking to make his move. One day, he’s gonna bug out and start eating mall goths and babies and stuff.
Know what? I’m not afraid of him. Know why? I drink half a bottle of hand sanitizer everyday. Stings a bit going down but he can’t see my heat trails because of that. So, when things get crazy, Old Dave will be just fine. Don’t worry about me, bro.
Tyranny: Sounds like you know too much….
(Silence)
Tyranny: So, you’re Christian?
Mustaine: No dude, I told you. I’m Dave. What is this….a test?
Tyranny: Have you recovered fully from your injury yet?
Mustaine: Oh, you mean that thing that happened during the war. Yeah, I’m mostly better. The spine eating lizards put a device in my head that causes me to feel burning sensations whenever someone turns on a microwave, but beyond that, I’m totally cool.
Tyranny: What is the thing that you have written that you are most proud of?
Mustaine: About 30 years ago, when I was Jane Austen, I wrote a book called Persuasion. It’s your basic story of love lost and love found. In many ways, it’s a metaphor for the sadness at the root of the human condition. There is a passage in the book where Captain Wentworth takes a hammer and beats a squirrel to death. When I wrote that, I understood truly what it means to be a woman.
Tyranny: Uhm, okay….
Mustaine: SHHHHHHHH!!!! You see that.
Tyranny: What?!?!?!
Mustaine: Shhhhh…shut up! Pretend we are not talking. You don’t know me and my name is Marvin.
Tyranny: Uhmmmm…..
(A horrifically awkward silence of about two minutes)
Mustaine: Okay…it’s cool.
Tyranny: What just happened?
Mustaine: Did you ever see that movie “They Live”?
Tyranny: Yeah.
(Mustaine stares at me nodding with a knowing smile)
Tyranny: Where do you see your music progressing over the last 10 years?
Mustaine: You know how bands always say their music is either going to get heavier or that they are going to begin to hold strangers down and pour mouthwash in their eyes until the demons in their soul are vanquished to the Land of The Mog or that they are sorry that they randomly kicked and beat that vagrant on the side of the road in Phoenix all those years ago or that time I started cutting pictures of men with mustaches out of fashion magazines and pasting them up on the front door of local daycare centers or that they should know better and that they should beg forgiveness from a gila monster that won’t get off my front porch…..
Tyranny: (waiting for the thought to be completed) Uhmmmmm…….uh-huh.
Mustaine: (snapping back from a brief moment of staring staring blankly into space) Did I turn my iron off at home? It’s important. I don’t want there to be a fire.
Tyranny: I’m not really sure what….
Mustaine: (suddenly filled with rage) Look, I need to let you know that the world is going to end on February 29th, 2017. I need you to understand that. Because we are all fragile beings. Because we are delicate people. Dreamers. Dreaming. Alone. Bewildered. Facing demons of our own creation and of the creation of so many others. Facing eternalness. Everywhere we look. Besieged by creatures that call our names but disappear when we turn around.
Tyranny: But…2017 isn’t a leap year?!?!
Mustaine: Exactly! See what I’m saying. You see!!!
Tyranny: But…..
Mustaine: Nah! That’s it. I’m on to you, Gropius. I see you in there! You can’t fool me. My Julius is finished! You’ve nibbled at the toes of eternal truth long enough. Peace!
And with a flash of light, he was gone…..
Ohio State Coach Urban Meyer Denies Interest In Ohio State Coaching Job
Posted by Keith Spillett in Blithering Sports Fan Prattle on December 22, 2011
This Never Happened
Tired of being hounded by the press about his interest in the Ohio State head football coaching position, Ohio State coach Urban Meyer today unequivocally denied any interest in taking the Ohio State job. Meyer, who only weeks ago signed a contract to coach at Ohio State, denied that he has had contact with AD Gene Smith or that he was even aware that Ohio State existed. Meyer claims that the recent press conference where he was introduced as the Head Coach was “a complete and total fabrication.”
Earlier today outside of his office in the Ohio State football complex, Meyer decried the media’s rampant speculation about his plans and willingness to report rumors instead of solid facts. “They just take a few pieces of information and run wild with them,” said Meyer decked out in his brand new Ohio State coaching jacket. After a Buckeye Booster Club Luncheon and a long day of preparing for next year’s home opener against Miami of Ohio, Meyer declared that he was looking forward to taking the next year to spend time with his family.
Ohio State University, already reeling from NCAA imposed sanctions for 2012, now faces the unenviable task of hiring a new coach even though they have already hired one who is currently coaching the team. In a press release issued by the University, the Athletics Department stated definitively that they are “Looking forward to celebrating several championships in the Urban Meyer Ohio State era even though it will not be taking place.”
Meyer reacted frostily to the claims of some reporters that he has been wavering in his commitment to Buckeye football. “I have been very clear about my intentions of not not not not not not coaching at Ohio State next season. I’m not sure what else I can say.”
ESPN, which is already inundated with several major stories about pre-season NBA basketball and reports of Tim Tebow drinking a glass of water, led their SportsCenter broadcast with 55 minutes of coverage of Meyer’s denial. In an interview with ESPN’s Shelley Smith, Coach Meyer denied ever issuing a denial. “I am obviously currently the Ohio State Head football coach. I am not,” said Meyer in an attempt to clarify the news reports about his interest in the Ohio State job that he took last month.
The 657th Republican Debate of The 2012 Presidential Campaign in the State of Iowa as Told By Franz Kafka
Posted by Keith Spillett in Existential Rambings on December 15, 2011
“Nansen saw the monks of the eastern and western halls fighting over a cat. He seized the cat and told the monks: “If any of you say a good word, you can save the cat.”
No one answered. So Nansen boldly cut the cat in two pieces.
That evening Joshu returned and Nansen told him about this. Joshu removed his sandals and, placing them on his head, walked out.
Nansen said: “If you had been there, you could have saved the cat.”
-From The Gateless Gate
Announcer: Now, presenting tonight’s debate between the leading candidates for the Republican nomination for the presidency of the United States. Today’s event is sponsored by Big Vern’s Preowned Buicks an independent, freedom-loving outlet for the finest in preowned vehicles in all of suburban Waterloo, Iowa. Here is tonight’s host, former All-American right tackle from the 1978 Sugar Bowl Champion Iowa Hawkeyes, the man who can put you in a Buick for under 10,000 dollars, Big Vern Walters.
Big Vern: Yeah, uhm, thanks. Tonight we are going to talk to some great Americans who may be President if the good lord wills it and chooses to not rain fire and brimstone down on the people of Iowa for embracing Satan and for buying cars made in Japan and other communist countries. So, I digress, here’s the candidates. If you don’t know them by now it’s probably because you’ve been watching CNN, otherwise known as the Commie News Network. (audience laughs on cue) Anyways, lets give a big Iowa welcome to the candidates.
(Audience applauds thunderously in response to the promise made by Big Vern before the debate that if they make the “Applause-O-Meter” reach 10 at least twice, they would get a dollar off coupon that can be used at the local Applebee’s)
(At this point, the candidates paste a big “gosh I hope you can look at me and think I’m the type of guy (or gal) you can sit down and have a beer with” smile on their makeup plastered faces)
Big Vern: As for my first question, here it is. Mitt Romney, Do you think that Obama is a Muslim? If not, why are you protecting him?
Mitt: Americans are were very hardworking them those who hate freedom well twelve Obamacare the enemies of the West those who hate us Obamacare Obamacare measured balanced approach our boys in Afghanistan Reagan them rock and roll is a bunch of mindless noise small businesses tax breaks Reagan fourteen insert joke here experienced leadership.
Gingrich: Let me just interject for a minute. Massachusetts Ted Kennedy liberal noise crickets my plan tax breaks Obamacare job creators those who hate freedom. I have a plan that allows the 29th Amendment to use the Federal Reserve to make bacon. Liberalism I’m an outsider Osama Bin Laden fear tax breaks Obamacare smarter than your average 4th grader thinking man’s conservative values welfare death cheaters awake after three. Obamacare. Liberal. Brain Science. Eliminate the Capital Gains Tax. Reagan.
Big Vern: That’s quite interesting, but Mr. Paul, how would you address the issue of people who make over 250 thousand dollars a year having to give away 3 quarters of their income to people on welfare who don’t want to work for a living?
Paul: Let me first say, Obamacare (audience boos wildly). Founding fathers spinning in graves to the tune of 7 trillion dollars in money spent on welfare in the past 10 seconds Federal Reserve Lizard People death no more taxes Obamacare….
Audience Member: KILL THE HERETIC!!!!!
(Rest of Audience Laughs)
(Applause for no apparent reason)
Paul: Federal Reserve buying cocaine or cannabis shouldn’t be a crime if you happen to drive Mercedes oppression taxation Department of Education selling crack to unwed mothers. And that’s fine. This is America. Rights, Freedom, Liberty. Some obscure historical example Republicans typically don’t use. Freedom. Liberty. Liberty. Reagan. Liberty. Atlas Shrugged. Reagan. Liberty.
Big Vern: I just want to complement you, Mr. Paul, on being the only straight talker on this here stage. Mr. Santorum, do you feel the media has been ignoring you?
Santorum: Abortion….
Big Vern (cuts off Santorum): And Ms. Bachmann, it’s been said that you believe strongly in values. Is this true?
Bachmann: Curing homosexuality welfare Obamacare (audience boos) good hardworking Americans freedom liberty Christ values Christ Tim Tebow (audience applauds wildly). Freedom I’m from where the real people live liberty godless heathens cities children puppies apple pie godless communism Christ Tim Tebow Reagan. Reagan. Reagan.
Obamacare! (audience lets loose bloodthirsty shouts) Our soldiers are brave. Socialism welfare dead values my opponents people underestimate me because I’m not paying attention.
Big Vern: And Mr. Perry, how would you change America if elected President?
Perry: (Unintelligible noises that somewhat resemble English)
Big Vern: And Mr. Huntsman, clearly with a haircut like yours you are an establishment liberal from Massachusetts who can’t win. A question for you Mr. Gingrich, now that you are the frontrunner in the field, how likely is it that your past ties to communist organizations like The Heritage Foundation hurt your campaign?
Gingrich: (while wearing a giant squid on his head) Fifty four forty or fight!!!!!
(Editors note: How much sadness, how much horror, how much shame can one nation be subjected to before they see the entire sick, twisted carnival as being too much to bear? Tell me what can be done….please. Because this actually does matter. Because this is not just simply a sideshow for the amusement of a bunch of uninvolved spectators. Because really important things hang in the balance. Because we are desperate for people who can help us make sense of the world we live in. Because this is not entertainment, this is our lives they are talking about. Because the civic arena was once where we exhibited the best of who we were. Because there have to be better people who can lead us. Because there simply has to be more than this. Right? Right??!)
Free Market Anatomy
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on December 6, 2011
The Silent Majority
Right Lung, you work hard everyday to move oxygen into the blood stream. I often find myself thinking that right lungs are the hardest working organs in the body. What you do is a thankless job. You are one of the good, hardworking organs. Many of the other “piker” organs like the liver, the pancreas and the embarrassingly lazy appendix spend their days lollygagging around and benefiting from all the sweat and toil you put in. They reap the same benefits as you for one tenth of the work. Now I ask you, is that fair?
What do you get for all your labor….nothing. Bossed around all day by the Brain. Sure, the Brain sits up there enjoying the good life while you pump oxygen 24 hours a day without a break. Only like 10 percent of the Brain even does anything, Lung. But it feels entitled to tell you what to do? Who gives it the right? The Brain thinks it knows everything, but let it spend ten minutes trying to convert angiotensin I to angiotensin II. Puh-lease!
The Brain wastes all this time consulting with different useless departments like the cerebellum, the parietal lobe and the frontal lobe all the while using the precious oxygen that you generously provide it with. Sipping coffee and making policy decisions while you pump away. Enforcing its sadistic code of anatomical correctness. They redistribute your oxygen to every organ regardless of how hard they work and you get nothing but the short end of the trachea. What is your reward for all of your effort? Nothing but lectures on how you should produce more oxygen just because the body is running or underwater. You go underappreciated while the other organs bask in the rewards of your effort.
Right Lung, I want you to know that there is another way to live. I’m not sure if you are aware of this but the body is essentially a communistic system. All the organs benefit equally, no matter how important their contribution is. What is your incentive to work harder than say, the Left Lung?
As we all know, human nature clearly shows us that we can only be happy if we are pitted against each other in bloodthirsty competition for control of all of the vital resources of the body. Cooperation between the organs has left the lazy viscera sitting pretty while the diligent, enterprising ones do all the work. Instead of allowing this madness to continue, I propose we move towards an “every organ for itself” system.
If one lung produces oxygen really well, I say why punish it for being good at its job? It should be allowed to keep as much of the oxygen as it makes. This way all of the weaker organs will die off and the strong ones will be left to create a better body, without free-riding, parasitic entrails. Let’s face it, you will not be free until the body stops coddling the slothful and the shiftless.
A truly free market anatomy promises each organ will be judged on its merit as an individual and not held back from producing and consuming anything it wants. When the body stops forcing all of the organs to work together in some socialistic form of “harmony” and begins to compensate organs for what they contribute and no more, then, and only then will we be free.
Interview With A Mad Artist
Posted by Keith Spillett in People Who Were Willing To Speak To Me on December 5, 2011
Last week, I got a chance to catch up with one of my favorite artists, Michelle E. Fusco (aka Libertina Grimm). She has a unique talent for creating enchanting visions of enigmatic musicians. Her subjects in the past have included Alice Cooper, King Diamond, Jim Morrison and Dani Filth. She manages to capture the magniloquent beauty of these artists in a way that is both memorable and uncanny. Recently, she has turned her attention towards rendering the image of Michael Jackson in a respectful and deeply loving manner.
What was the moment you discovered you had artistic talent like for you?
I was about 11 or 12 & mostly I remember being happy to have made my father proud of something I did, because he was very hard to please.
Why do you choose to create art?
Once I discovered I could do it, it became my strongest mode of self-expression, and a very effective escape from troubles, stress and reality.
What artist or artists do you feel the deepest connection to?
I feel the deepest connection(s) to Mozart, Michelangelo, Rene Magritte, Michael Jackson, and Stephen King.
You have created art based on many well-known musicians over the years. What makes you settle on a certain subject to work on?
I am only truly inspired by performers that are “outside the box” and seem to have something speaking through them. Like they’re mad to create or something… I’ve explored music in search of these true artists, to whom creating their music is truly an extension of themselves and their lives. Once I find someone who seems to be REAL in that fashion, I feel I must portray them in some paintings, as if somehow to express my appreciation for their efforts in being real artists.
What about Michael Jackson, your current subject, do you most connect to?
My first thought on this one was ‘what DON’T I connect to?’ . I had a difficult childhood and this leaves one feeling like it was stolen away. I identify with Michael’s eternal child-like qualities and attempts to create his own dream world around himself, and stubbornly (needed to) live there, despite the ‘real’ world’s repeated attempts to tear it down. He had to live in his own reality because no one really understood him. I definitely connect to that. The feeling of isolation, creativity needing to be shared with the world, but yet no one truly understanding it.
Have you ever felt as if you created something that was perfect?
I have never created something perfect. I sometimes have thought I was working on a perfect drawing or painting, or at least one I would be satisfied with, but invariably, somewhere along the way, I end up feeling like I let myself down yet again, didn’t do as well as I had hoped to, & must set my sights on the next project, because apparently the next one is always the best one.
What is beauty?
To me it is some sort of otherworldly aura or essence that is shocking in it’s perfection, whether it’s Dani Filth as a flawless Gothic vampire, or Michael aspiring to the heavens, the wish to create something with a perfect effect is there and is beautiful. Like Michelangelo’s “David”. Perfection of form and grace, but also with a deeper meaning.
What environment are you most comfortable creating in?
I always work at the same old work-desk with a great stereo so I can hear my subjects. I always must create a music program to accompany each project, to create an appropriate ambience/atmosphere. I’ve been doing that since childhood and I’m pretty sure I couldn’t draw anything without the accompanying soundtrack.
If you could no longer create art, what would you do?
If things were as they are now and I could no longer create art, I would die. But if I could have any career as a replacement, like if I had a genie or something? Then I would be a dancer.
What about raising chickens appeals to you?
Chickens are great! They’re funny and sweet, and generally misunderstood. Probably my favorite thing about them is that if you raised them from babies, they’re your friends for life. I have full grown hens that still insist I’m their mother. They bond for life if treated right, which of course makes them excellent pets! I also like to rescue them from bad situations with people who don’t understand and give them proper shelter. It can be very rewarding. One of my older hens, Ivy, was left without food when her owners moved and couldn’t take chickens to their new place. They just abandoned her. I found her wandering in the road. I took her home and now she’s one of the family. Chickens need more people who understand that they are intelligent, compassionate creatures worthy of respect and love.
For a look at more of Michelle’s art, check out on her Facebook page or her website www.doors-of-perception.com.
The Curious Case of Tommy James and The Shondells
Posted by Keith Spillett in General Weirdness on November 25, 2011
Tommy James and The Shondells After Teaching The Dalai Lama To Play Good Golly Miss Molly on Guitar in 1964
One of the great, but somewhat forgotten bands in the history of American pop music was Tommy James and the Shondells. Chances are, if you’ve spent more than an hour of your life with the radio on, you’ve heard one of their hits. They were responsible for chart topping classics that ran the gamut from the #1 hit and rock anthem “Crimson and Clover” to the sundrenched, psychedelic classic “Crystal Blue Persuasion”. They had hits like “Mony, Mony” and “I Think We’re Alone Now” which were made into even bigger in the 1980s by Billy Idol and Tiffany respectively. They were responsible for writing the theme song to the television show “Bonanza” and created the entire soundtrack to the Wes Craven’s horror standard “Last House on The Left”. Yet, miraculously, few people know the mind-blowing story of their bizarre careers.
Tommy James (born Thomas Gregory Jackson) came into the world on April 29th, 1927 in Kalamazoo, Michigan. From an early age, Tommy, as his friends called him, overcame great adversity. Tommy was born with several additional limbs, including an arm that jutted out of his back and two additional legs that sprouted from slightly below his right knee. James lived in this awkward and uncomfortable state until he had the additional limbs removed at age 16. By that time, James had become somewhat of a music prodigy. Before the removal of his extra arm, 8-year-old Tommy wowed the elementary school talent show crowd with his ability to play all of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” on guitar while doing a full handstand.
Music was Tommy’s first passion, but it was his skills as a twirler and football player were legendary in the state of Michigan by the time he began considering college. Tommy was a dual threat quarterback who was known for his majestic playmaking ability, as well as the fact that he is the only football player in modern memory to also do the halftime shows for his school. After passing for 427 yards and 8 touchdowns in the first half of a game against rival Warren G. Harding High School, James came out and did a flaming baton routine that is still talked about locals today. Tommy was offered football scholarships to Ohio State, Michigan, UCLA and Notre Dame, but decided to dedicate himself to music fulltime when he turned 18.
Tommy played with several bands but quickly became frustrated with the music industry. On his 26th birthday, Tommy made a decision that would forever change the course of world history. After reading a newspaper article the corrupt dictatorship of Cuban strongman Fulgencio Batista, Tommy decided that the cause of freedom was more important then his music career. He packed up his backpack and got on a boat for Cuba that very day. While he was there he quickly became close friends with several revolutionaries, including future leader Fidel Castro. Tommy spent the next ten years working with Castro and an Argentinian doctor by the name of Ernesto “Che” Guevara to overthrow the dictatorship and to bring economic equality to the Cuban people.
Tommy became disillusioned with the Castro regime in the early 1960s and eventually had a falling out with Fidel over Cuba’s alignment with the Soviet Union. He was expelled from Cuba and told he would be executed if he ever attempted to return. Tommy decided he needed to find himself spiritually and moved to Tibet. After spending a year of his life herding yak, he met a group of four American expatriate musicians who lived in the mountain village of Shondelli. While sitting at the foot of Mount Everest and discussing the path to enlightenment, these five men together wrote the song “Hanky Panky”. Knowing it would certainly become a hit, they returned to America with stars in their eyes. Sure enough, Tommy James and the Shondells scored a number one single with the song in 1966.
From 1966 to 1970, the band produced a string of Top 40 hits and became a regular on such shows as American Bandstand. One morning in 1971, Tommy woke up and decided that the craziness and excesses of the music industry were too much for him. He left the scene and opened an exotic pet store in Los Alamos, New Mexico. The Shondells, left leaderless by Tommy’s disappearance, knew they needed to take action in order to stay famous. Using a strand of Tommy James’ hair, the band, who had each received PhD degrees in Biology from Harvard University, attempted to clone him. At first, the clone of Tommy James performed well. However, before a concert in Cleveland, Ohio in 1973 the clone went berserk and consumed four Girl Scouts who attempted to sell him cookies backstage. The clone was destroyed and the Shondells were sentenced to life in prison without the possibility of parole until 1998.
After receiving several letters from the Shondells, James, racked with guilt, closed up his pet store and broke the band out of Leavenworth Federal Prison in Kansas with support from 3 members of the Oakland Branch of The Symbionese Liberation Army (who were later known for kidnapping heiress Patty Hearst). The band hid in the mountains of Colorado for 15 years only occasionally returning to cities to sign copies of their Greatest Hits album. Eventually, the band surrendered to Federal Authorities in 1987. However, lady luck smiled upon the band when outgoing President Ronald Reagan pardoned them in 1989 because he errantly believed they had helped smuggle guns and money to the Contras in Nicaragua.
The band relocated to Seattle and began playing slowed down, “grungy” (as they called it) versions of their earlier songs. A song they had created in honor of their good friend actor Martin Sheen called “Smells Like Sheen’s Spirit” was borrowed by a young musician named Kurt Cobain for his band Nirvana. Nirvana changed a few words around and the rest was history. James, who had accidently signed away the rights to the song during a late night card game with Nirvana drummer Dave Grohl, never got over his rage about losing the song. Weeks before Cobain’s death, James threatened to “feed Cobain to a pride of lions at The Olympia Zoo”. However, James was never considered seriously as a suspect in the death of Cobain.
After the Seattle years, the band went on to various projects, occasionally reforming for short tours. However, they never recaptured the hit making ability that they flashed so prominently in the late 1960s. Sure, some bands have been able to write catchier pop songs. A few bands have even been able to capture the exciting, frenzied energy they were able to create on stage. However, as far as I know, there are no bands that have lived as surreal and extraordinary lives as Tommy James and The Shondells.
The Tyranny of Tradition 