Himalountain

Ok, so bear with me for a minute here. I made a Ferris Beuller’s Day Off image the other day. And it is (in my opinion) pretty awesome and something I would proudly wear on my shirt.

But what if… what if I took Cameron, and placed him not in front of Sunday in the Park, but other iconic paintings? Would it be anything more than another Ironic T-Shirt? I have nothing against irony in my clothing, in fact, I usually like a heavy dose of it. But it seems that, if I’m to do this, it needs to be something beyond ironic. So I need help. Is this just a terrible idea? One that shouldn’t see the light of day, but for whatever reason my brain has latched on to and won’t let go?

I’m not trying to make a statement or anything (how could I?), but think about it… for all the focus on Ferris, Cameron is obviously the more complex, tortured character. Trampled upon by everyone, including his best friend, marginalized by his father, drifting, aimless… I always thought that once you got past the ha-ha appeal (and awesome racing/jumping scene) of Ferris, the movie was more about Cameron finally standing up for himself, against everyone (including Ferris). This was a movie watched many times during my formative years, and while Ferris taught me to relax, do what makes you happy, and everything will be fine… Cameron taught me that sometimes you just have to draw a line in the sand, and dare the world to cross it.

So perhaps I’m over analyzing the movie, perhaps I’m putting too much emphasis on Cameron in what is, in reality, a comedy. But I still think him staring at other iconic images (not even just art, but serious, historically important images) would be amazing.

Then again… I’m pretty sure I don’t have the artistic ability to pull it off.

Rad.

There, I said what we are all thinking. Rad is quite definitely the preeminent BMX Teen Movie of the eighties. If you’ve never seen the movie before, go watch it. Now. But if that is too much trouble for you (it is hard to find, I understand… but that didn’t stop me from finding it again), then just watch this clip. It sums up the entire movie in one beautiful, ludicrous scene.

Some highlights:

• 0:00 - Yes, that is Aunt Becky. And she is hot with shoulder pads.
• 0:45 - The appearance of the Evil Lacky Twins, quickly cut to… the Badass Teen-Villain (why were the jerks always blonde in the eighties?), and he is clearly not impressed.
• 0:56 - Drunk Corporate Asshole! Yes, he is the true villain here, accompanied by his own slick, Mustachioed Lacky
• 1:50 - Wha? The Evil Lacky Twins are enjoying the show? Blonde Badass will have none of it!
• 2:08 - Quite clearly, a man in sequined, be-shoulder padded blouse. Apparently, Aunt Becky can only do tricks when the bike is fixed to a track
• 2:41 - Sooo… do the Evil Lacky Twins share the Zebra Girl? I’ve never been clear on that particular fact.
• 3:43 - Wow, we were so easily impressed back then…

Interesting side note, the movie is loosely based on the life of Eddie Fiola, who is actually in the movie… as Cru Jones’ stunt double.

I can’t count the number of times I watched this movie as a kid. A few years ago I finally managed to turn up a (bootlegged) copy on DVD. And you know what? I like it even more now than I did then. Perhaps if all you are nice enough, one of these days I’ll host a Rad movie night, and we can all bask in the warming glow of the eighties.

And in case you are wondering what that awesome song is, “Send Me an Angel” by Real Life. Thrice does a half-decent cover.

Yes yes, I know I said that I would make shirts of 80’s movie stars, and I did. Unfortunately, that particular shirt apparently violates copyright… so only one was made before I got shut down by the man. It’s cool though, cause one is all I need.

But while I lay low until the heat is off, here is my new shirt. It’s origins lay in a dark, sordid tale of youthful rebellion, fatherly love, shadowy government agencies, and Cuba.

I considered many variations of this shirt, but in the end, this one was the cleanest and got the point across the best. For the two people who understand this, let me know your preferred size, and I’ll get some printed up.

First up, Lloyd Dobler. Who is Lloyd Dobler? Well, if you don’t know, this image should help:

And if you still don’t know, then I don’t want to know you. But this should help you out.

Also, there is apparently a band… they’re alright, but a little too pop-indie for me. Pindie, if you will.

Some days you have to remember why you started down whatever path you are going. For me, it had a lot to do with reading Carl Sagan. I stumbled upon this Pale Blue Dot video today and thought I’d share the love. Listen to the famous essay narrated by Sagan in all its glory (with mildly cheesy video montage):

The Pale Blue Dot

Look again at that dot. That’s here. That’s home. That’s us. On it everyone you love, everyone you know, everyone you ever heard of, every human being who ever was, lived out their lives. The aggregate of our joy and suffering, thousands of confident religions, ideologies, and economic doctrines, every hunter and forager, every hero and coward, every creator and destroyer of civilization, every king and peasant, every young couple in love, every mother and father, hopeful child, inventor and explorer, every teacher of morals, every corrupt politician, every “supreme leader”, every “superstar,” every saint and sinner in the history of our species lived there-on a mote of dust suspended in a sunbeam.

The Earth is a very small stage in a vast cosmic arena. Think of the endless cruelties visited by the inhabitants of one corner of this pixel on the scarcely distinguishable inhabitants of some other corner, how frequent their misunderstandings, how eager they are to kill one another, how fervent their hatreds. Think of the rivers of blood spilled by all those generals and emperors so that, in glory and triumph, they could become the momentary masters of a fraction of a dot.

Our posturings, our imagined self-importance, the delusion that we have some privileged position in the Universe, are challenged by this point of pale light. Our planet is a lonely speck in the great enveloping cosmic dark. In our obscurity, in all this vastness, there is no hint that help will come from elsewhere to save us from ourselves.

The Earth is the only world known so far to harbor life. There is nowhere else, at least in the near future, to which our species could migrate. Visit, yes. Settle, not yet. Like it or not, for the moment the Earth is where we make our stand.

It has been said that astronomy is a humbling and character-building experience. There is perhaps no better demonstration of the folly of human conceits than this distant image of our tiny world. To me, it underscores our responsibility to deal more kindly with one another, and to preserve and cherish the only home we’ve ever known, the pale blue dot.

and go read Contact. I’d lend you my copy but I never got it back the last time I lent it out.

(Can’t just call it a motorcycle gang if half the members don’t have motorcycles…)

This weekend juuulia gets her Vespa, which means the group will consist of one Ducati, one Harley, one Vespa, and one as-yet-to-be-determined. Probably another scooter.

So I’m going to go on record right now and say that I’m expecting this out of you, juuulia:

I will accept nothing less.

His real name is David Jones but used David Bowie (after the bowie knife) so as to not be confused with Davy Jones of the Monkees.

His eyes are two different colors because he was punched in the face when he was 15 by his friend wearing a ring in a fight over a girl.

Throughout his career, Bowie has been constantly transforming his music and image. Somehow, it always seems to work. There are very few artists who can pull that off - they either get stuck in the same dated sound or fail to evolve. The original transformation from Ziggy Stardust - the androgynous alien glam-rock persona that made Bowie famous to the stripped-down “thin white duke” of Diamond Dogs is, in my opinion, the most impressive. I think at that point most people thought of him as a one-trick pony. This is where the quasi-biopic “Velvet Goldmine” diverges from Bowie’s actual life. In the movie, the Bowie character fakes his own death while in reality, he reinvented himself.

Not only do David Bowie cameos improve any storyline (Zoolander, Venture Brothers), the man can act. It’s interesting that he often plays other historical icons such as Andy Warhol in “Basquiat” and Nikola Tesla in “The Presige”

Bowie has a seriously impressive vocal range. Just listen to “Heroes”. The way that song was recorded is actually pretty cool. They had 3 microphones set up at different distances because he sings so quietly in the verses and belts it out during the chorus.

I like the fact that he never takes himself too seriously. Check out his version of “Dancing in the Street” with Mick Jagger sometime, or even better Labyrinth:

You tell me if you think he’s picking his nose at around 3:30.

And, yes, David Bowie wrote all the songs in that movie.

David Bowie is married to supermodel Iman who banged Captain Kirk in Star Trek VI. Therefore DB is 1 degree away from Star Trek:

He has collaborated with everyone: John Lennon for “Fame”, Trent Reznor for “I’m Afraid of Americans”, Queen for “Under Pressure”, and the aforementioned Mick Jagger duet. He also produced Lou Reed’s fantastic Transformer album.

Finally, covers of Bowie songs also kick some serious ass. Have you seen Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou? Throughout the move Seu Jorge - an amazing Brazilian musician in his own right - is performing acoustic Portuguese covers of Bowie classics. I’m a particular fan of “Queen Bitch” for obvious reasons. Pick up the soundtrack or the extended “Life Aquatic Studio Sessions”

Well that’s it for my Bowie rant/lesson. If you don’t like Bowie by now, listen to “Young Americans”. After that I give up.

The wikipedia entry is a pretty good read but it’s a bit scary how much of it I already knew…

Had to wake up early for work today… far too early… same as every other day this week.  Damn emergencies.

Don’t drink coffee that often, when I need to wake up my goto is Red Bull… or, as I like to refer to it, the Elixir of the Gods… unfortunately my red bull stash at work has gone unmonitored for the past month, and thus has disappeared.  Damn co-workers.  So I had to make some coffee.  Don’t make coffee usually… made it strong… drank the whole pot… jittery as all hell, and can’t think in complete sentences at the moment.  Never twitched this much before while typing.  Makes it hard to do it correctly.

I know my limits with Red Bull (hint: when your skin starts to smell like Red Bull, you’ve gone to far).  But since I don’t usually make coffee, let alone drink it in large amounts, I have no idea where/when to stop.

Probably shoulda stopped after 1 cup, seeing as how I made it waaaay stronger (as I just found out, 3x the recommended limit on scoops)… but now I’m finishing my fourth, and strangely I can’t stop.  Probably gonna go make another pot shortly.

At a slight lull in the days activities, maybe I’ll run some laps… I should probably never drink coffee again… at least, not coffee that I brew.  Damn coffee.

Reminds me of the Futurama episode where Fry drinks 100 cups off coffee, and enters into an expanded, sped up state of mind… of course, I think my heart will probably give out before I achieve hyper-awareness.  Damn reality.

Update: It’s now 3:30PM.  And I have crashed, and crashed hard.  Having trouble just keeping my eyes open.  Sooooo glad I drove in instead of riding in today, probaly be fine moving, but it’d be pretty embarrassing to tip over at a stop light.

Or, perhaps that should be so little posting, so much time. Drove back home for Mother’s Day over the weekend (ain’t I just the bestest son in the whoooole world?). Then, as one would logically assume, I drove back. Thirteen total hours of driving for twenty four hours of being back home. Sleeping on a far too small air mattress, braving dirt roads chock full of treacherously large pot holes, overzealous highway patrol officers trying to fill their quotas… all for Mom.

Something I learned on this trip, my Dad may have gone ’round the bend, so to speak. It was bad enough when he started stringing up hummingbird feeders like there was no tomorrow (cause if today was your last day on earth, wouldn’t you want to feed as many hummingbirds as you can?). He put up so many of them that there are now swarms of hummingbirds at my parents place. Yeah, you read that right, swarms. Imagine hitting a bee-hive with a baseball bat. See all those bees? Now replace them with hummingbirds, and that’s what their front porch looks like.

But he didn’t stop there. He started hanging ‘regular’ bird feeders, but the squirrels were eating all the bird seed. So how did he solve this problem? Not with my ingenious invention (to be posted at a later date), but rather by feeding the squirrels peanuts. So now picture the flocks of birds, swarms of hummingbirds, and army of squirrels. Got all that? Now add these two little guys:

More to post, but still recovering from the long drive… also, I gotta go to work at 5am tomorrow, so that bed is looking pretty damn enticing right now.

I’d admit it: I’m a late adopter. As in, I started listening to Belle & Sebastian this year. After having grown up a stone’s throw away from a really kick ass Chinatown I just discovered Sriracha Sauce (aka Cock Sauce per the bottle illustration). I’d had it before but not my very own bottle, recently purchased at Marukai 98. It’s kind of my new mustard. Whoa brilliant idea: Sriracha mustard! (A quick Google search tells me it’s a known but not heavily marketed combination)

That’s going on my next, um, turkey dog.

Seriously though, I’m putting it on everything. I’m totes addicted. I wonder how quickly I can go through this thing.