Monday, October 24, 2005

The Wolverton Pack

I saw this in the paper this weekend; its credited to one Monte Wolverton. Monte is no doubt related to this guy. No one else draws Like That; furthermore, no one else has such an uncommon, memorable last name.

I really dig the Miers drawing. It works as caricature - that pointy nose! those wire-thin lips! - and as a kind of nifty-looking cartoon in its own right. But I'm especially impressed with the fact that Wolverton drew all those individual spaghetti-strands of her hair.

Surely I Can't Be the First to Have Thought of This

From The Independent:

Dead parrot did have killer strain of bird flu

"The first case of the H5N1 strain of bird flu, which has already killed 61 people in the Far East, has been identified in Britain.

"Scientists confirmed last night that a parrot, imported from Surinam in South America, contracted and died from the disease while in a quarantine unit in southern England. The parrot, which died on 16 October, was part of a consignment of 148 birds imported from Surinam that had been housed in a quarantine unit along with 216 exotic birds from Taiwan, where the virus has been found.

"The parrot's owner later attempted to return the deceased bird to the store from which it had been purchased, demanding a full refund. The success of this effort has yet to be determined; when asked to comment, the owner of the store in question insisted that the parrot was 'just resting' or possibly 'pining for the fjords.'"


Okay, the last paragraph was a joke, haw haw haw. But how can it be that I'm the first and, as far as I know, thus far the only person to make this joke? I mean, really, it came to me within seconds of hearing the words "dead parrot" and "Britain" in the same sentence. Is everyone else out there asleep at the wheel?

Oh, right, I forgot: this is the dreaded avian flu, which will infect everyone, wreck the economy, bring martial law to the US and reduce the population of the earth to just you and Charleton Heston and you'll have nothing to do but shoot at vampire zombies at night and watch an old fucked-up print of Woodstock during the day. Well. Sorry I spoiled your bad time.

Saturday, October 22, 2005

I Hope Tomorrow Comes...

...so I can see Wisconsin's first spaceport!

If built, it will be located in Sheboygan ("an ideal site, says one expert, because failed flights would fall harmlessly into Lake Michigan"). Until recently, my grandparents were located in Sheboygan, so I know the place pretty well. Currently, the best band in the world is located in Sheboygan; its from their 2002 CD ...Date Your Daughters that the title of this post comes. Clever, eh? While you're waiting for the space age to reach the hinterlands, you should check 'em out.

Andre the Giant May Have a Posse...

...but Samoa Joe has a MySpace page!! Holy shit!!

I smiled for ten minutes straight when I learned that his interests include "Music, Women, Martial Arts, Fine Dining, Eastern Philosphy, Social Awareness, Pro Wrestling."

Check out his blog while you're up.

Choke Your Chicken

No, really:

"Aussie animal lovers are up in arms about a dancing chicken toy which squawks and slaps his wings when strangled, slamming the Taiwanese novelty as 'grossly irresponsible', AP reports.

"The Choke-a-Chicken is imported into Oz by Jaycar Electronics, which pitches the electronic pet at kiddies over three. The blurb explains:

'The Choke-A-Chicken flaps and waddles around doing the Chicken Dance, clucking and flapping its wings in sync with the Chicken Dance melody. Grab him by the neck and he will squawk and cluck like mad, flapping his wings and feet wildly as if he is really being choked. Put him down and he will waddle off, singing and dancing as he goes.'"


You're always promising yourself that you'll get your Christmas shopping done early, right? Well, thank me later.

Friday, October 21, 2005

"A problem remained - lint and hair."

Behold! The CarpetFlick!

Sounds like a nifty device, but one thing doesn't seem quite right: the name. CarpetFlick? I dunno. "Flick" for some reason conjures up visions of something unpleasant and biological; this is something you'd think they'd wanna play down. (I mean, look at some of the great cleaning-product names of the past: Comet, Kleenex, Lux...) Plus, I would think that the Boys in Marketing would frown on anything that starts with "F" and ends with "CK"...

(hat tip: The Dynamist)

Madison Rock City

I have vast reserves of goodwill built up toward the Gore Gore Girls. Not only do they put out fun, loud records (both Strange Girls and Up All Night are well worth your sheckels), not only does their whole aesthetic appeal to me in a very primal sort of way, but I'm also touched by their seeming determination to visit every backwoods, out-of-the-way hamlet they can reasonably afford to. Not only have they dropped by Madison more than once, but a quick glance at their tour schedule shows that they didn't forget such rolling metropolii as Morgentown, WV or Las Cruces, NM or or Victor, ID or Bozeman, MT or Rock Island, IL. As a hick from the sticks myself, I appreciate it.

The unfortunate side of this is that sometimes you have dates like last night's show at the High Noon. Oh, the GGGs were good enough; certainly worth leaving the house for. And man, can that Amy Surdu ever sing or what? Watching someone who's got a real voice and isn't afraid to use it has been a pleasure that I've come to appreciate more and more in recent years. Most of the groups I go see aren't exactly famous for their overwhelming instrumental prowess; they can usually fake it well enough, which is more than enough for me (I mean, otherwise I may as well go see Dream Theater) (which I have no intention of doing) (ever). You can't fake a golden set of pipes, though, and the physical sensation you get from standing next to someone with a great, big voice is worth the admission price every time.

Sadly, not a lot of people seemed to care, as last night's show was one of the sparest, attendance-wise, that I've been to at the HN. I assume this is due to a combination of poor promotion, the fact that it was a weeknight show, competition in the form of another, more heavily-publicized and hipper show downtown (featuring these party animals; Dream Theater indeed) and the almost congenitally poor taste in music that Madison has collectively displayed since about 1966. Well, thanks anyway, Gore Gore Girls; I only hope that all the beat junkies in Rock Island can pick up our slack.

Wednesday, October 19, 2005

I Feel the Need...the Need...for SCREED!

Although I think that 70% of his politics are pure nonsense, I really enjoy reading James Lileks's Screedblog. I was skeptical at first when he spun it off from the regular ol' Daily Bleat, but now I think the whole scheme works great: it frees him up to go on about the dog and the back yard and the White Star Tuna ad from a 1932 issue of Look that he's obsessing over in the Bleat; later, after the kid's gone to bed, he can get all rudo. Its fun to read the distilled nastiness all there in one place, uncut by this or that random tale of domestic bliss.

So anyway, I suppose I ought ot make a note of it when I see something on there that I find both funny and right-on. So check it out. The bit about "le panique attaq" cracked me up.

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