Schrodinger killed the cat.

[On the other hand, there's no topping the awesome schmuckage that is Nickelback ripping themselves off. In case you're wondering, those are two different songs on the left/right channels]

Courtesy of this rather singular marketing strategy, you have five more hours to get yourself this, if you're so inclined (unless you're Slash or Buckethead apparently, which I grant you is unlikely, particularly since I'm Buckethead).

This.

How fantastically surreal. It's like one of those old Tim Conway sketches where the central character is the straight man and something bizarre plays out in the background.

If they ever make a movie out of all this, I want Steve Buscemi playing guy-who-stuffs-turkey-in-wood-chipper (what the hell is that thing anyway?)

This evening, I was on Wikipedia looking up JCVD (which, incidentally, seems like an oddly intriguing film), when I chanced upon this fabulous page.

Now, I don't know about the veracity of those 'unsourced' quotes, but man, there's some good stuff there. 

T'as pas besoin d'un flash quand tu photographies un lapin qui a déjà les yeux rouges.
Translation: You don't need a flash to photograph a rabbit that already has red eyes.

Si tu travailles avec un marteau-piqueur pendant un tremblement de terre, désynchronise-toi, sinon tu travailles pour rien.
Translation: If you work with a jackhammer during an earthquake, stop, otherwise you are working for nothing.

Un biscuit ça n'a pas de spirit, c'est juste un biscuit. Mais, avant c'était du lait, des oeufs. Et, dans les oeufs, il y a la vie potentielle.
Translation: A cookie has no soul, it's just a cookie. But before it was milk and eggs. And in eggs there's the potential for life.

These are the discoveries that make me happy.

Well, the album's out.

They're following the Radiohead 'pay what you want' principle, which seems to have worked out pretty well for Yorke and friends. I'm not sure how successful this will be for Motherjane, but for what it's worth, I would definitely recommend checking it out. I downloaded it this morning and having listened to it a few times, I quite like it. They've adopted a more fusiony angle on this album, which works reasonably well. While I'm probably still partial to their first record, Maktub is defintely growing on me. If anyone's looking for a song recommendation, I'd suggest using 'Mindstreet' as an entry point. It's a reworked version of a song from their first album, and will probably give you a good idea of what the album sounds like.

Take a listen.

[Edit, after a few more listens: Start with Chasing the Sun]

Did anybody catch this?

In the latest installment of the 'Watch David Blaine Do Retarded Shite' show, the vaguely annoying magician attempted to fly into the core of the Sun, returning to Earth bearing the secrets of the Sun People.

Actually, he attempted to hang upside down for three days. Or not.

Be that as it may, the fairly lame spectacle was supposed to end with the rather ominous 'Dive of Death'. Here's how the thing was billed.



And having set that up, here's what happened.



My favourite bit is at about the 3:00 mark. Respect to the announcer for resolutely sticking to his 'escape into the atmosphere' brief.

Watch this space.

I loved Insane Biography, and this new record sounds brilliant. I very highly recommend this.

Two things have greatly surprised me today.

(a) That one of the first members of Carcass was an individual known simply as 'Sanjiv'.

(b) That after years, I can actually get past Track #1 of a new Metallica album. I shall say no more, since it's entirely possible I'm giving them far too much credit merely for exceeding my embarrassingly low expectations. I'll just point out that, if nothing else, the album is worth listening to simply to hear the trademark 'adding-a-syllable-to-a-word Hetfield-isms'. "Waiting for the oooooonnnnneeee-AH!." Good stuff.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson. Mayor of London. A resounding victory for comedy. Huzzah!

(Psst)

Remember this post, kids?

(Just so you don't have to wade through the multitude of entries on this active and oft-updated journal, it's two posts below this one).

Well, having taken Garfield's thought bubbles out, I suppose it was only a matter of time before someone purged the strip of that damn cat. Here you go.

I'm really getting a kick out of all this, y'know.

So I was sitting around on the floor the other day, thumbing through my copy of the Legodeath fanzine, when it suddenly occurred to me that there was a sofa-shaped void in my life.

Consequently, my main mission over the past month - which no one gave me, but I nevertheless accepted, has been to find a couch on Craigslist. Not an easy task, considering that I have no means of transporting said couch aside from faking an old war injury and tricking the roommate into lugging it home (realistically, I doubt he would fall for it again).

Now, this Craigslist is a strange and funny place. There are posts that are sheer genius:


Rare Left-hand strung piano

This piano is one of only a handful (probably the left hand full) that were built with the high notes "al sinistra" (on the left end) and low notes "al rechta" (on right). These pianos were originally built to be sold in southern hemisphere countries where, because of the perceived "backward" spin of the earth, audio vibrations travel in a counter-clockwise direction.

The reversed placement of the treble and bass keys allows pianists from these southern nations to play northern European piano literature without having to relearn the notes. It does require that the score be transfered to onion skin vellum, laid in reverse on a copy machine and photocopied in reverse so that the music flows from right to left on the page. Several collections of reverse-hand piano literature might be found on yAbe (the southern hemisphere internet auction site, based in Australia.)


Others are surprisingly diabolic:

I have tickets to UNC vs Duke game. I want wood floors

I have 2 tickets to the UNC vs Duke game at UNC on Feb 6th.
I will trade them if you will provide and install wood floors for 3 rooms in my home - the kitchen, den and half bath with mudroom.


Some are impenetrable:

I will make a men/woman hair replacement for barder

15 year in business
$1 (Raleigh)


But none touched me quite like this one¹:

For sale

Brand new size 10 wedding dress. Never worn.
$350 (Durham)

¹ (Psst).

Perhaps there's nothing more inspirational than banality.

I can't think of another way to explain the unmitigated surreal lunacy that Jim Davis and Garfield inspire. And I continue to be amazed by the undying spirit that drives people to make this strip funnier (or, at the very least, suck less).

Can a feces machine be art, someone once asked. And by much the same coin, a more profound question - can Garfield be funny?

Apparently, yes.




First, there was the Garfield Randomizer. A student at U Wash cobbled together a webpage that fetched strips from the online Garfield archives, but combined and reorganized individual panels from different strips. An inspired idea, to be sure. The result? A truly surreal take on the life of the otherwise eminently predictable cartoon cat.



It's the same joke. But ah - this time, it's more subtle; an eminently forgettable punchline isn't forced down your throat. What remains is simply the expression on Garfield's face, which in turn leaves the last panel a wee bit more open-ended. The result - you bring your own interpretation to that quizzical look, and that makes the strip stronger.

A whole new dimension emerges by simply eliminating the redundant visual and textual underscoring of the punchlines. Garfield becomes oddly beautiful and surreal - and at times, almost poetic.



I suppose the moral of all this is that Jim Davis is so close to a good comic strip - but he just doesn't realise it. Or perhaps he does, and he doesn't care. Or perhaps, he's a true genius who has ingeniously cloaked a surreal and subversive comic within an admittedly formulaic one.

Who can tell?



And now, I find the fascinating Lasagna Cat (also here), where Garfield strips are recreated in truly bizarre fashion. The hilarious short live action reenactments are followed by a rimshot and laugh-track; there's then a "tribute to Jim Davis" music montage.

In turns creepy and surreal, the Lasagna Cat videos add yet another incredible dimension to what is undoubtedly a truly unremarkable comic strip.

Bravo.

...and in other news, Monkee has a blog. The interweb was not ready for this level of blade. 

There's a scene in François Truffaut's Day For Night where the aging actress Severine (played wonderfully by Valentina Cortese) is driven to tears by her utter ineptness on the set. Much like Marilyn Monroe's famous 'where's the bourbon' moment in Some Like it Hot, Severene repeatedly flubs her lines. And what's more, she insists on marching resolutely into a closet when the script requires her to exit the room. Driven to desperation, the director Ferrand (played by Truffaut himself) attempts to calm her down by having her lines written on pieces of paper which are then taped to various parts of the set.



There's a story that Frederico Fellini, during the filming of 8½, wrote himself a note, which he taped beneath the viewfinder of his camera. The note read 'Ricordati che è un film comico.' ('Remember, this is a comedy.').



Watching these two films back-to-back, I'm struck by how they explore very similar themes (the art of film-making itself), but are yet so vastly different. 8½ deals with the individual - a director who suffers from writer's block; a man struggling to find inspiration for his film whilst simultaneously harangued by the studio, his wife and his mistress. In what can only be described as 'Felliniesque', the narrative is a seamless blend of reality and fantasy, of comedy and tragedy - and it's sometimes difficult to tell all of them apart (much like my own life, I think). One of my favourite sequences appears right at the beginning of the film, where the hapless director Guido (played by the terrific Marcelo Mastroianni) is stuck in a traffic jam. He suddenly floats out of his car window, takes to the air and becomes a kite, and is finally pulled down to earth by some studio folk. This sets the tone for the rest of the film, which does more than live up to it.

Day For Night is not as introspective, and far less personal; Truffaut chooses to transport you behind the scenes, to make a movie as well as a movie-about-a-movie. This is by no means an easy task, but he pulls it off splendidly. Day For Night is about all aspects of film-making - the stars, the crew, the takes and retakes, the technical issues and their inventive solutions, the romances, the tantrums; and all of it feels real. There's a flashback sequence in the movie where the director dreams about himself as a little boy, walking down a dark street leading to a theater, slipping his hands past the locked grille to steal the posters for Citizen Kane. The parallels between the boy and Truffaut are obvious, his enthusiasm for the subject matter is genuine and infectious. And if all this wasn't motivation enough, Jacqueline Bisset (bad Wiki photos be damned!) is particularly stunning in this movie.

Both 8½ and Day For Night are definitely must-watch films - and a tip-of-the-hat to my dad, who vigorously insisted that I watch the latter.

How did I not know that Manowar had released a new slab of cheesy goodness album? I must be slipping in my old age.

Quit my job this morning said forever
I would hold my head up high
Cause I need metal in my life
Just like an eagle needs to fly

Now there's an away message if I ever saw one. But wait, it gets better.

So I walked outside into the street
From a hall I heard thunder and screams
I walked inside so I could hear
And the guy beside me gave me a beer

Wassat? You don't like beer? Them's fightin' words.

Brothers stand beside me, there's a battle on
Know my words are true
There's a battle for true metal
They're marching; they're marching on
Me and you

Ten thousand strong are here tonight
With twenty thousand fists up in the air
The power of true metal's calling you
It's everywhere

So, to sum up:

Hold your head up high
Raise your fist up in the air
Play metal louder than hell
Louder than hell

They can't stop us
Let 'em try
For heavy metal
We would die...

Here's the video link (also link, link)  Don't blame me if your head explodes.


Ah, which reminds me: I spent my first month in Chapel Hill as the mighty Theo's guest - he who spins fire when he has a couple of minutes to spare:

From Ron Jarzombek's website:

Blotted Science, the instrumental extreme metal triumvirate featuring guitarist Ron Jarzombek (Watchtower, Spastic Ink, Marty Friedman), bassist Alex Webster (Cannibal Corpse, Hate Eternal), and drummer Charlie Zeleny (Behold...The Arctopus, Jordan Rudess), have set a September 18 release date for their highly anticipated debut, 'The Machinations of Dementia.' The album was produced and mixed by Ron Jarzombek and mastered by Danish studio whiz Jacob Hansen (Volbeat, Destruction, Raunchy) at Hansen Studios; it will be issued through Jarzombek's EclecticElectric label.

Ron Jarzombek - guitars: The initiator of Blotted Science, Ron has long been hailed as one of the most singularly unique guitarists and brilliantly creative forces of the progressive vanguard. First coming to the world's attention via Watchtower's seminal 1989 tech thrash masterpiece, 'Control & Resistance', Ron further stunned prog connoisseurs with his abstract 90's outfit Spastic Ink, put his signature stamp on the acclaimed Gordian Knot debut album, and has toured the US, Europe, and Japan with fellow guitarist Marty Friedman of Megadeth fame.

Alex Webster - bass: Recognized as one of the premier bassists in extreme metal through his frenzied work with long running death metal icons Cannibal Corpse, Alex was immediately up for the challenge of what would shape into Blotted Science when first contacted by Ron in 2005. Not only did Mr. Hammer Smashed Bass turn out to be the perfect deathtoned counterpart to Ron's patented madness, resulting in a heavily collaborative effort during the writing stages, Alex also delivers a jawdropping performance and gets to stretch musically beyond what die-hard fans have come to expect.

Charlie Zeleny - drums: The last member to join the three-pronged alliance, Charlie was well prepared to claim the vacant Blotted Science drum throne following the departure of both original skinsman Chris Adler (Lamb of God) and then Derek Roddy (Hate Eternal, Nile). A member of fledgling experimental tech metal triumvirate Behold...The Arctopus and drummer-of-choice for Dream Theater keyboard whiz Jordan Rudess, Charlie came through under the gun and brings incredible dexterity as well as a fearless no-holds-barred approach to the project.

To pre-order CD send $15 cash, check or money order to:

Ron Jarzombek
PO Box 34772
San Antonio, TX 78265 - 4772
U. S. A.

I'm now at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill, where I shall inhabit the Department of Computer Science for the foreseeable future.

I have also been computer-less for the past seven months or so - which explains but does not excuse the lack of blog activity; however, that has since been remedied (huzzah!).

Regular programming shall indeed resume shortly. But for now, this post seems woefully incomplete. Perhaps a touch of the surreal would help? Yes.

I wonder where that fish has gone?

You did love it so, you looked after it like a son.

And it went wherever I did go.

Is it in the cub-ord?

"Yes, yes, check there!"

Wouldn't you like to know? It was a lovely little fish.

And it went, where ever, I, did go.

"Its behind the sofa!"

Where can that fish be?

"Have you thought of the drawer in the front room?"

It is a most elusive fish!

And it went, where ever, I, did go.

Oh fishie, fishie, fishie, fish!

A fish, a fish, a fish, a fishie, oh!

Oh fishie, fishie, fishie, fish!

And it went, where ever, I, did go.

Hullo.

I realise, in hindsight, that I really should have ended my last post with a cliffhanger. That hullo above would have been a lot more dramatic.

But shucks, folks - you know I'd never stoop to that level of gimmickry, don't you?

By the way, just so everyone's aware - next week, I'll be wearing a leather jacket, putting on some waterskis and jumping a shark. Heyyy.

So then.

I'm now also faced with the rather annoying task of explaining my extended absence. Though there have been many attempts to account for my 'great hiatus' (thrilling journeys and adventures in Tibet, rehabilitation treatment with Freud, seeking a cure for vampirism - to name but a few), I will skip over this trifling detail, assume that you all missed me terribly, and vault merrily into a discussion of things that have kept me amused over the past five months.

I call this segment: 'Things that have kept me amused over the past five months.'


Exhibit A: The Goon Show, BBC Radio 7.
As Brokentooth awoke in the lab one afternoon from uneasy dreams he found himself not only transformed into a gigantic insect, but also surrounded by a mysterious cackling noise which would repeat with a distinct periodicity. Upon a thorough investigation (standing up and looking around), the sound was traced to the wise and all-knowing Shashi, PhD student extraordinaire.

Based on Shashi's hearty recommendation, I spent the next half hour listening to the The Goon Show - starring Spike Milligan, Peter Sellers and Harry Secombe. Very Marx-brothers in their insanity (one sketch has them climbing Mount Everest from the inside), delightfully surreal, and puns aplenty - just my kind of humour.

Eccles: The wagon train with your wife on board has been attacked by the Indians!
Captain: My wife? Is she safe?
Eccles: Yeah.
Captain: I never did like them Indians.
Lt. Hern: Did they follow you?
Eccles: Yeah. They were shooting at me all the time. But I just stuck my tongue out at them.
Lt. Hern: Get wounded?
Eccles: Yeah.
Lt. Hern: Where?
Eccles: In the tongue.

Seagoon: Through the pigeonhole flew a carrier pigeon. There was something attached to its leg. It was a postman.

There are an incredible number of running jokes on the show - and here's my favourite. During the 1920s-1930s, radio shows used to simulate background noise for crowd scenes by having the extras rapidly mumble 'rhubarb' under their breath  - a more recent reference to this may be seen in South Park, where crowds mutter the word 'rabble' repeatedly. Since The Goon Show cast usually had only three people, this effect was parodied by having the Goons repeat 'rhubarb' very quickly, with outbreaks of 'custard!' for good measure.

Note that though I play favourites and dwell primarily on the Goon Show, BBC Radio 7 has an array of fine comedies to choose from - there's the groundbreaking Hancock's Half Hour, Dad's Army (the television version was voted into fourth place in a BBC poll for Britain's Best Sitcom) and the more contemporary Dead Ringers - amongst others.

Shet it and check it, I say.


Exhibit B: Eddie Izzard.
It has been said that if Graham Chapman were alive today, he would be clawing furiously at the inside of his coffin.

Now, upon reflection (if you're into that sort of thing), the above statement could be interpreted as a validation of the current state of comedy - that one of the legendary Pythons would be keen on seeing some of the great talents of the present. Alternatively (if you're in a pissy mood), you could see this as an indictment of comedy’s status quo - that Chapman would be urged to return from beyond the dead to teach these darn kids a thing or two.

Or, you could see that statement for what it was, a cheap gag pinched from a David Letterman Top Ten list.

But well.

If you subscribe to the first theory (only $21 a year) and believe that Chapman would indeed be keen on the present tense of comedy, it would not be a stretch to posit that one of the artists he’d be most eager to see would be one who John Cleese called 'The Lost Python'. Eddie Izzard. Not only because Izzard is at the forefront of today’s stand-up scene, but also because the comedian recently did a gig at the Coronet Theater in LA, and Chapman would like the opportunity to see whether he once left his wallet there.

Izzard's style is finely honed, and yet fantastically spontaneous - a mix of surrealism, inspired banality, surprisingly competent takes on religious and historical issues - all neatly wrapped up by his fantastic powers of free-association. A mime of Noah (with Sean Connery's voice), sawing wood for his Ark, mysteriously metamorphoses into a man punching a baboon in the face. A conversation between Robin Hood and a 'comfortable' man riding a horse (both sides played by Izzard) draws to a premature close when the latter's 'horse' is revealed to be a pogo-stick.

Ah. I should, perhaps, mention the cross-dressing.

Pipe down. Not me.

Izzard describes himself as an 'executive' transvestite (a male lesbian, apparently) - and frequently appears on stage wearing outrageous clothing. Being notoriously suspicious of the comedic 'shtick', I'm happy to inform you that this only adds to Izzard's character. Accept this on faith - you really have to see it to know what I'm talking about. To sum up - there's plenty of Eddie on Youtube, and I highly recommend checking it out (and for the folks in Bangalore - as if meeting me wasn't bonus enough, I'll be happy to bring my DVDs when I come down in a couple of months).

Now - in case you're already familiar with Izzard and have read this far out of sheer loyalty to me, here's Phil Jupitus' brilliant take on the Izz. For bonus points, see if you can identify a certain someone in the crowd throwing a water bottle at Jupitus towards the end of the clip.


Exhibit C: The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.

As the discerning reader might note (yes, I know that automatically excludes all of you), I love bad films.

Now Buckaroo Banzai is no bad film - but it may quite easily be mistaken for one. And that would be a grievous error in judgement, indeed.

In a fantastically directed opening sequence, Buckaroo (played by Peter Weller) sits at the helm of his jet car (played by a very souped-up Ford of the not-Harrison variety) — and throws countless switches with a sense of conviction. The customary sequence of beeps follow, and he then adjusts a device called the Oscillation Overthruster - one that he is about to test. At this point, the engines are beginning to roar - and with nothing but an empty horizon ahead, it is clear what is going to happen.

Buckaroo dons a banzai headband and is thrust into the Eighth Dimension. The sheer magnitude of this success overwhelms any necessity to explain, exactly, what this Eighth Dimension is.

The film also features John Lithgow (appropriately overdone mad scientist), Jeff Goldblum, Christopher Lloyd and a very mysterious watermelon. Throw in the Hong Kong Cavaliers ('the world’s most elite musical fighting group'), eminently quotable dialogue ('No matter where you go, there you are') and a barrage of gags (subtle and otherwise) - and you have a movie that defies conventional synopsis.

As director W. D. Richter put it - 'The most typical - and difficult - question people ask me is: What is Buckaroo Banzai about? If I could answer that in a single interview, I wouldn't have spent two years making the film.'

I can't recommend this one highly enough.


Well, that's it for this episode, kids. Stay tuned for regular programming.

A delightful mail we received on the ECE Department listserv this morning:

Date: Fri, 10 Nov 2006 17:56:49 -0060 [Sunday November 12, 2006 10:56:49 PM MST]
From: Loyd Swartz <rra@bookies.com>
To: all-grads@ece.arizona.edu
Subject: [All-grads] Just above the buttocks.

Hi!

He started smoking when he was five.

I know that it will bore me.
I wasted through the night.
He greets me at the door each day
If I don't get it off my chest
Glory, glory hallelujah!
Rocky Mountain spotted fever,
I think it's very mean!
I know that it will bore me.
I wasted through the night.
A kid who sat in front of me
Could I have done my homework?
Glory, glory hallelujah!
while munching cookies, cakes, and chips
so the teachers cannot write.
and all the lockers white.
I didn't turn the TV off.
I couldn't do my homework.
I didn't wash the dishes.
There won't be school no more.
and a full-blown case of rabies.
We have torn up all the math books
Could I have done my homework?
I think that's pretty cool.

Think of a number between one and ten.