Considering that I live in a town far removed from cosmopolitan taste, where 1970's rock and last year's Top 40 still rule the airwaves, my tastes are similarly outdated. The sounds I always come back to are what I heard as a kid, what I loved in my teens, when I first started playing guitar and realized there was this whole undiscovered world of music.
If the New York Times is to be believed, the hipsters have discovered Africa and while said hipsters tend to get a little pretentious about archaic musical forms, I'm honestly glad to see recognition of the amazing sounds coming out of other parts of the world.
The "world music" tag usually denotes some kind of Western sonic colonization and general cheesiness, usually with lots of synthesizers and terrible production, or something that inevitably involves Peter Gabriel or some other western dude who goes over and "discovers" some crazy new sound that inevitably gets overproduced and unbearable. The only world-ish stuff I could really get into was Dead Can Dance because it sounded ancient most of the time rather than something out of "The Lion King."
There's a part of me that's jealous of said boomer crackers because I'd love to be running around the desert with a tape recorder hanging out with electric guitar-wielding griots and Tuareg freedom fighters or going to the Festival in the Desert. This will probably never happen as I'm poor and vulnerable as a single white female.
Instead, I've spent a good deal of time downtown at Cleveland Public Library delving into their insanely huge international music section out of curiosity and playing this stuff at 5am on Tuesday mornings to those who may or may not be listening.
I'm glad that there's labels out there reissuing some amazing stuff from the 60's and 70's and also the more current musicians out there who will never get serious airtime over here because most lyrics aren't sung in English.
When I moved home from Kent, I was deeply depressed and feeling like my life was over (no friends, no car, dead end job, etc) and I listened to Amadou & Mariam's "Dimanche en Bamako" and painted nightly in the basement, seeking solace in the intricate guitars and mingling voices of a blind couple from Mali old enough to be my parents . I still play them almost every week on my show because it always does it for me and I hope it does it for other people too.
One of my college roommates was big into this stuff, and put this trip-hop remix of an Oumou Sangare track on a mix CD for me.
Rokia Traore has an incredible voice and shares a love for Gretsch electric guitars.
I'm still kicking myself for not seeing Tinariwen in Columbus last year. Most of these groups don't tour much, and if they do, they play festivals I'd never go to and major cities that aren't Cleveland.
This older stuff reminds me of my dad's garage rock 45's in all their fuzzed-out guitar-driven glory.
This one reminds of Cream.
Mulatu Astatke gets a lot of love for good reason. In all honesty, I don't know much about jazz, but I know I like trippy guitars, vibraphones, and things that sound like this.
Not to mention the sounds that came out of places we only know here in the western world as places where there's civil war and general craziness.
And I still really want a kora. These sound so beautiful, and I know it'd be hard to find one in these parts.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Monday, February 7, 2011
children shouldn't play with dead things
There were people protesting on the square about U.S. involvement in Egypt Friday night as I headed home and while I usually ignore everyone in a mad dash to catch the Rapid, I did stop to listen for a change. I get frustrated with conversations I have with people where they say "well at least Suleiman isn't an Islamist" and I wonder if it really matters sometimes, because it would suck to live under totalitarianism of any kind, whether it's religiously rooted or not.
But since I can't solve the world's problems, I resort to sculpting clay and subsequent dinner and ponderings and plans to go out into the winter snow for cultural enrichment.
We didn't get to the cemetery, as it was rainy and snowy, and since bicycles and skateboards are verboten, one would assume the same of plastic saucers.
But we did get to get our high culture on and be uncharacteristically snarky in the ancient art section of the Art Museum in regards to the defensive possibilities of solid gold reliquary purses, my assumption as a child that the Ancient Egyptians looked more Caucasian than African, the way that the headless Roman senator flanked by several busts reminds me way too much of Return To Oz...
We marveled at the workmanship in enamel, glass and metal, wondering why no one taught us about the Visigoths and the Scythians and the Bronze Age in history class, all this history and culture only hinted at in shards of pottery and intricate jewelry and the faces of those long gone.
Our favorite little sculpture is back on display as well, "The Stargazer" that's supposedly a woman but always looked a bit more alien.
The illuminated manuscripts were still on display and she observed in the middle of an exhibit about the art of bygone manuscripts, painstakingly copied onto vellum, ornamented profusely, and embossed with gold, there's a couple playing with their new Kindle and extolling its virtues.
We made a quick detour on the way back because my favorite Damien Hirst artwork of all time, a triptych of stained-glass looking designs made from hundreds of butterfly wings.
After that, we went to the pretty much deserted Natural History Museum to hang out in the 1970's decor with dinosaur bones and fossils. Since there were no school groups and hardly any kids, we had the museum to ourselves to get in touch with our "inner dinosaur."
The place hasn't changed in my lifetime and upon discussion with my elders, it looked more or less the same when they went there in their youth as well.
Also, the every conspiracy nerd's favorite world dominators have left their mark here.
Come and visit scenic and picturesque Archaic Ohio!
No one really knows why T-Rex's arms are so small, but supposedly someone thinks he's distantly related to the chicken:
We also learned that Disaster of Manly Manliness FutBol Americano proportions could occur as a result of climate change:
We went out to look at all the animals out back looking cold and cranky except for the otters, who thought we were there to feed them. Lindsay got kissed by a deer and we pondered the
possibilities of wooly mammoths and giant chickens going on all Jurassic Park on the planet.
Someone also thought that their mom loved birds way too much:
More terrible t-shirt slogans here...
It makes total sense that someone like me who loves living in a dying town would like old and and dead things and why when people visit, I recommend museums and cemeteries and old diners as destination options. Maybe that's kind of weird, but those kind of things do it for me. They always have. Something about living in a land of rust and snow can make you existential in a good way.
Sunday, of course, is the de facto national American holiday observed by almost everyone. Some friends from church that I enjoy immensely invited me over and it was good to watch the game with fellow hopeful cynics, as the snark was free-flowing, especially in regards to the presence of a certain former US president and the fratboy antics of a certain Pittsburgh quarterback.
Cowboys and aliens are evidently the newest zombies and vampires, not even Slash can save the Black Eyed Peas from total suckitude, maybe lip-synching isn't so bad when people can't sing especially when they name themselves after the Duchess of York and Suburban Shopping Malls, and The Fast and the Furious franchise is quickly becoming the Land Before Time of action movies. Tchaikovsky is rolling over is his grave at the abuse of the 1812 Overture, "And we wonder why other countries want to bomb us," one says.
At least the Packers won, I guess, and I got to laugh.
But since I can't solve the world's problems, I resort to sculpting clay and subsequent dinner and ponderings and plans to go out into the winter snow for cultural enrichment.
We didn't get to the cemetery, as it was rainy and snowy, and since bicycles and skateboards are verboten, one would assume the same of plastic saucers.
But we did get to get our high culture on and be uncharacteristically snarky in the ancient art section of the Art Museum in regards to the defensive possibilities of solid gold reliquary purses, my assumption as a child that the Ancient Egyptians looked more Caucasian than African, the way that the headless Roman senator flanked by several busts reminds me way too much of Return To Oz...
We marveled at the workmanship in enamel, glass and metal, wondering why no one taught us about the Visigoths and the Scythians and the Bronze Age in history class, all this history and culture only hinted at in shards of pottery and intricate jewelry and the faces of those long gone.
Our favorite little sculpture is back on display as well, "The Stargazer" that's supposedly a woman but always looked a bit more alien.
The illuminated manuscripts were still on display and she observed in the middle of an exhibit about the art of bygone manuscripts, painstakingly copied onto vellum, ornamented profusely, and embossed with gold, there's a couple playing with their new Kindle and extolling its virtues.
We made a quick detour on the way back because my favorite Damien Hirst artwork of all time, a triptych of stained-glass looking designs made from hundreds of butterfly wings.
After that, we went to the pretty much deserted Natural History Museum to hang out in the 1970's decor with dinosaur bones and fossils. Since there were no school groups and hardly any kids, we had the museum to ourselves to get in touch with our "inner dinosaur."
The place hasn't changed in my lifetime and upon discussion with my elders, it looked more or less the same when they went there in their youth as well.
Also, the every conspiracy nerd's favorite world dominators have left their mark here.
Come and visit scenic and picturesque Archaic Ohio!
No one really knows why T-Rex's arms are so small, but supposedly someone thinks he's distantly related to the chicken:
We also learned that Disaster of Manly Manliness FutBol Americano proportions could occur as a result of climate change:
We went out to look at all the animals out back looking cold and cranky except for the otters, who thought we were there to feed them. Lindsay got kissed by a deer and we pondered the
possibilities of wooly mammoths and giant chickens going on all Jurassic Park on the planet.
Someone also thought that their mom loved birds way too much:
More terrible t-shirt slogans here...
It makes total sense that someone like me who loves living in a dying town would like old and and dead things and why when people visit, I recommend museums and cemeteries and old diners as destination options. Maybe that's kind of weird, but those kind of things do it for me. They always have. Something about living in a land of rust and snow can make you existential in a good way.
Sunday, of course, is the de facto national American holiday observed by almost everyone. Some friends from church that I enjoy immensely invited me over and it was good to watch the game with fellow hopeful cynics, as the snark was free-flowing, especially in regards to the presence of a certain former US president and the fratboy antics of a certain Pittsburgh quarterback.
Cowboys and aliens are evidently the newest zombies and vampires, not even Slash can save the Black Eyed Peas from total suckitude, maybe lip-synching isn't so bad when people can't sing especially when they name themselves after the Duchess of York and Suburban Shopping Malls, and The Fast and the Furious franchise is quickly becoming the Land Before Time of action movies. Tchaikovsky is rolling over is his grave at the abuse of the 1812 Overture, "And we wonder why other countries want to bomb us," one says.
At least the Packers won, I guess, and I got to laugh.
Friday, February 4, 2011
another unread open letter
Dear Mr. President,
Haven't we had enough with this "At least he's our s.o.b." business? To send a billion dollars to a repressive regime because it's 'not as bad' as others? To send lots of guns and such to this guy in Yemen to boot? To champion democracy yet prop up leaders who know how to say the right thing to us to get the money? We've already enabled the existence of Pinochet, Stalin, Somoza, Trujillo, Batista, Pahlavi, Niyazov, pre-1991 Saddam, and yet we still do the same with the likes of Mubarak.
For all your high-minded words, Mr. President, you're suggesting that the new ruler of the country be our CIA spook who's done a lot of nasty torturing business, some of it in our name?
The more I see of you, the more I'm glad I voted third party and didn't buy into all these platitudes of high-minded bullshit and hope and change. How are you any better than your predecessor or anyone else before him?
Haven't we had enough with this "At least he's our s.o.b." business? To send a billion dollars to a repressive regime because it's 'not as bad' as others? To send lots of guns and such to this guy in Yemen to boot? To champion democracy yet prop up leaders who know how to say the right thing to us to get the money? We've already enabled the existence of Pinochet, Stalin, Somoza, Trujillo, Batista, Pahlavi, Niyazov, pre-1991 Saddam, and yet we still do the same with the likes of Mubarak.
For all your high-minded words, Mr. President, you're suggesting that the new ruler of the country be our CIA spook who's done a lot of nasty torturing business, some of it in our name?
The more I see of you, the more I'm glad I voted third party and didn't buy into all these platitudes of high-minded bullshit and hope and change. How are you any better than your predecessor or anyone else before him?
'battle dress'
...evidently has nothing to do with medieval warlike accoutrements or re-enactors but rather this whole thing called "Dress for Success."
My first dealing with this whole culture came at the Seasonal Holiday Retail Hell Job I had for three weeks when I was 19. At orientation, we learned how to run the cash register the lady who ran this was wearing a power suit and told us we were really special because we worked at Kaufmann's and were dressed much classier than those people at JCPenney's.
We had to carry on this tradition of looking really good so that when we went for lunch at the food court, everyone could tell that we worked at Kaufmann's. Honestly, I don't think anyone else in the rest of Parmatown Mall really gave a damn either way, but then again, there's a reason that I'm not the manager of anything.
So now I'm in the world of grown-up-ness where I have to maintain a modicum of respectability and negotiate the precarious terms of business casual and read these articles about careerwear with some bemusement.
What do my legs say about me as a barely creative individual? What kind of authority do I want to project? Being that I'm often told I'm young enough to be their children by my superiors, I get the feeling that I'm not taken terribly seriously as it is.
Evidently knee-high boots and the color purple are okay, which is ironically what I'm wearing today, not because it's a "Power Color" but more because I got it for free from someone, as I did the accompanying skinny black pants and the dangling heavy glass earrings. At least Eugene Hutz & Co. would be proud of me.
Thrift and comfort over fashion, but I'm getting better at this whole thing, since I have to. Our Industrial Sociology overlords claim that one should not express oneself especially as a female, but since I have no ambition and work in the non-corporate realm, I'll continue to indulge in my love of dangly earrings (de-gauging my ears was a good thing) and dark colors. So far it hasn't gotten me in any trouble, so I guess I'm okay.
I'm thankful I live in an unfashionable rustbelt city in a run-down part of town so that I can get away with old jeans and an endless array of black t-shirts, where a winter wardrobe means putting thermals under and a hoodie/cardigan over said previous items, and I get mistaken for a record store clerk every time I'm shopping in said establishment. It's not entirely a bad thing.
My first dealing with this whole culture came at the Seasonal Holiday Retail Hell Job I had for three weeks when I was 19. At orientation, we learned how to run the cash register the lady who ran this was wearing a power suit and told us we were really special because we worked at Kaufmann's and were dressed much classier than those people at JCPenney's.
We had to carry on this tradition of looking really good so that when we went for lunch at the food court, everyone could tell that we worked at Kaufmann's. Honestly, I don't think anyone else in the rest of Parmatown Mall really gave a damn either way, but then again, there's a reason that I'm not the manager of anything.
So now I'm in the world of grown-up-ness where I have to maintain a modicum of respectability and negotiate the precarious terms of business casual and read these articles about careerwear with some bemusement.
What do my legs say about me as a barely creative individual? What kind of authority do I want to project? Being that I'm often told I'm young enough to be their children by my superiors, I get the feeling that I'm not taken terribly seriously as it is.
Evidently knee-high boots and the color purple are okay, which is ironically what I'm wearing today, not because it's a "Power Color" but more because I got it for free from someone, as I did the accompanying skinny black pants and the dangling heavy glass earrings. At least Eugene Hutz & Co. would be proud of me.
Thrift and comfort over fashion, but I'm getting better at this whole thing, since I have to. Our Industrial Sociology overlords claim that one should not express oneself especially as a female, but since I have no ambition and work in the non-corporate realm, I'll continue to indulge in my love of dangly earrings (de-gauging my ears was a good thing) and dark colors. So far it hasn't gotten me in any trouble, so I guess I'm okay.
I'm thankful I live in an unfashionable rustbelt city in a run-down part of town so that I can get away with old jeans and an endless array of black t-shirts, where a winter wardrobe means putting thermals under and a hoodie/cardigan over said previous items, and I get mistaken for a record store clerk every time I'm shopping in said establishment. It's not entirely a bad thing.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
best of the blotter 33: Slim Jims, Tuna, and Ho-Hos
SUSPICION, DETROIT AVENUE: A woman called police at 3:18 p.m. Jan. 26 and said a group of juveniles were sniffing something out of a brown paper bag. The juveniles were tracked down and the contents of the bag turned out to be tuna fish sandwiches. Officers advised the hungry kids and sent them on their way.
POSESSION OF MARIJUANA, MORTON AVENUE: On Jan. 28 tenants complained to police about a strong smell of marijuana emanating from one of the apartments. Upon arrival police were immediately struck by the smell in the hallway. They were able to locate the apartment. A male answered the door and without hesitation gave the police his marijuana. He told police he only buys the best. The 21-year-old male and his roommate were cited for misdemeanor possession of marijuana.
SCREAMING, BRYNMAR: Police responded to a Brynmar Lane home after a report that a woman could be heard screaming inside the residence. An officer spoke with the woman, who said she was upset because she could not remember the passwords for her computer. No charges were filed.
DISORDERLY CONDUCT, MAPLECREST AVENUE: A Parma boy, 17, was arrested at 10:22 p.m. Saturday after he was seen jumping repeatedly off the roof of an attached garage.
When police arrived, the boy was lying on the garage roof. He told police he had been playing a game of “manhunt.”
Police said the boy had been drinking.
SUSPICIOUS PERSON, CHAGRIN RIVER ROAD: At 1:05 p.m. Jan. 6, police received a call about a suspicious person looking through the recycle bin at the post office, 1500 Chagrin River Road. Police arrived to find a woman, 82, of Chesterland, looking in the bin. The woman told police she was looking for a bill she had mistakenly discarded.
NO TAIL LIGHTS: A driver was pulled over Jan. 19 on Medina Road for not having tail lights. He then lied to the officer several times, giving them a false first name and misspelling it, and claiming he did not know his birthday or Social Security number because he was “bad at math.”
THEFT, CHAGRIN BOULEVARD: The C.E.O. of Perfusion Solution, Inc. reported on Jan. 20 the theft of a $20,000 artificial heart and various blood pump parts valued at $10,000.
THEFT, LORAIN ROAD: A Speedway gas station employee contacted police on Jan. 18 when someone stole $67 worth of Slim Jims.
DISORDERLY CONDUCT, EAST WASHINGTON STREET: Moreland Hills police reported at 2:40 a.m. Sunday that a “highly intoxicated male” was walking from the BP Station. When Chagrin Falls police caught up with him, “he appeared to have an entire package of beef jerky in his mouth,” and was reluctant to give his name and address. When police told him he needed to cooperate or face charges he said he was hungry and his mother was “Martha Washington.” The South Russell man, 24, was later picked up at the police station by his parents.
HO HO BROUHAHA, BRANDYWINE: A 37-year-old male and his 30-year-old niece, who lived with their mother and grandmother, respectively, began arguing over a box of Ho Hos on Jan. 25. The homeowner became annoyed with the two adults and called police to the Brandywine Drive home. An officer responded around 10:55 p.m. and told both offenders to start acting like adults.
IDENTITY FRAUD, MARKS ROAD: A woman reported being the victim of an Internet scam at 6:38 p.m. Jan. 15. According to the victim, after posting her resume on careerbuilder.com, she began receiving e-mails from a “Jane Wilson” from a company called “International Commodity Trading.” The victim was promised a job as a purchasing manager with the company, allegedly based out of Switzerland.
The victim was instructed to wire money for advertising materials to an address in Ukraine, then was allegedly threatened by “Wilson” when she failed to do so. “Wilson” reportedly told the victim to find a way to wire the money or “a couple guys from eastern Europe Mafia” would visit her at her home address.
POSESSION OF MARIJUANA, MORTON AVENUE: On Jan. 28 tenants complained to police about a strong smell of marijuana emanating from one of the apartments. Upon arrival police were immediately struck by the smell in the hallway. They were able to locate the apartment. A male answered the door and without hesitation gave the police his marijuana. He told police he only buys the best. The 21-year-old male and his roommate were cited for misdemeanor possession of marijuana.
SCREAMING, BRYNMAR: Police responded to a Brynmar Lane home after a report that a woman could be heard screaming inside the residence. An officer spoke with the woman, who said she was upset because she could not remember the passwords for her computer. No charges were filed.
DISORDERLY CONDUCT, MAPLECREST AVENUE: A Parma boy, 17, was arrested at 10:22 p.m. Saturday after he was seen jumping repeatedly off the roof of an attached garage.
When police arrived, the boy was lying on the garage roof. He told police he had been playing a game of “manhunt.”
Police said the boy had been drinking.
SUSPICIOUS PERSON, CHAGRIN RIVER ROAD: At 1:05 p.m. Jan. 6, police received a call about a suspicious person looking through the recycle bin at the post office, 1500 Chagrin River Road. Police arrived to find a woman, 82, of Chesterland, looking in the bin. The woman told police she was looking for a bill she had mistakenly discarded.
NO TAIL LIGHTS: A driver was pulled over Jan. 19 on Medina Road for not having tail lights. He then lied to the officer several times, giving them a false first name and misspelling it, and claiming he did not know his birthday or Social Security number because he was “bad at math.”
THEFT, CHAGRIN BOULEVARD: The C.E.O. of Perfusion Solution, Inc. reported on Jan. 20 the theft of a $20,000 artificial heart and various blood pump parts valued at $10,000.
THEFT, LORAIN ROAD: A Speedway gas station employee contacted police on Jan. 18 when someone stole $67 worth of Slim Jims.
DISORDERLY CONDUCT, EAST WASHINGTON STREET: Moreland Hills police reported at 2:40 a.m. Sunday that a “highly intoxicated male” was walking from the BP Station. When Chagrin Falls police caught up with him, “he appeared to have an entire package of beef jerky in his mouth,” and was reluctant to give his name and address. When police told him he needed to cooperate or face charges he said he was hungry and his mother was “Martha Washington.” The South Russell man, 24, was later picked up at the police station by his parents.
HO HO BROUHAHA, BRANDYWINE: A 37-year-old male and his 30-year-old niece, who lived with their mother and grandmother, respectively, began arguing over a box of Ho Hos on Jan. 25. The homeowner became annoyed with the two adults and called police to the Brandywine Drive home. An officer responded around 10:55 p.m. and told both offenders to start acting like adults.
IDENTITY FRAUD, MARKS ROAD: A woman reported being the victim of an Internet scam at 6:38 p.m. Jan. 15. According to the victim, after posting her resume on careerbuilder.com, she began receiving e-mails from a “Jane Wilson” from a company called “International Commodity Trading.” The victim was promised a job as a purchasing manager with the company, allegedly based out of Switzerland.
The victim was instructed to wire money for advertising materials to an address in Ukraine, then was allegedly threatened by “Wilson” when she failed to do so. “Wilson” reportedly told the victim to find a way to wire the money or “a couple guys from eastern Europe Mafia” would visit her at her home address.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
songs for cold weather
I keep hearing about these epic snow storms but haven't seen much. Supposedly the big one is coming in tonight, and while I drove down due to being at the station, I'll probably be taking public transit and/or walking home.
We peons always seem to make it in, while the Powers That Be claim they can't get out of their driveways and it's just too much! to get downtown.
Despite the lack of playlist posting, I am still on the air, but decided this morning to theme it with sundry wintry songs. The sweet sounds of Africa/Thailand/the Middle East/Latin America just wouldn't cut it on a morning where my car is rolling over piles of snow and I'm crawling through the dark downtown streets.
I left my playlist in the car, but here's what can be recalled....
Mogwai - 2 rights make 1 wrong
Agalloch - the Hawthorne Passage: Song for a Gray City
Siouxsie & the Banshees - the Sweetest Chill
The Clash - London Calling
John Frusciante - This Cold
Curve - Frozen
My Bloody Valentine - Soft as Snow
Radiohead - Morning Bell
Gil Scott-Heron - Winter In America
Morphine - Let's Take a Trip Together
The Chills - Pink Frost
The Pixies - Winterlong
The Cure - Winter
The White Stripes - In the Cold Cold Night
Cave In - Seafrost
Massive Attack - Weather Storm
Team Sleep - Ever Since WWI
Kristin Hersh - Winter
Dead Can Dance - American Dreams
Husker Du - Back From Somewhere / Ice Cold Ice
the XX - Crystalised
Mazzy Star - Still Cold
Queens of the Stone Age - Long Slow Goodbye
Next time, there will be more planning...
We peons always seem to make it in, while the Powers That Be claim they can't get out of their driveways and it's just too much! to get downtown.
Despite the lack of playlist posting, I am still on the air, but decided this morning to theme it with sundry wintry songs. The sweet sounds of Africa/Thailand/the Middle East/Latin America just wouldn't cut it on a morning where my car is rolling over piles of snow and I'm crawling through the dark downtown streets.
I left my playlist in the car, but here's what can be recalled....
Mogwai - 2 rights make 1 wrong
Agalloch - the Hawthorne Passage: Song for a Gray City
Siouxsie & the Banshees - the Sweetest Chill
The Clash - London Calling
John Frusciante - This Cold
Curve - Frozen
My Bloody Valentine - Soft as Snow
Radiohead - Morning Bell
Gil Scott-Heron - Winter In America
Morphine - Let's Take a Trip Together
The Chills - Pink Frost
The Pixies - Winterlong
The Cure - Winter
The White Stripes - In the Cold Cold Night
Cave In - Seafrost
Massive Attack - Weather Storm
Team Sleep - Ever Since WWI
Kristin Hersh - Winter
Dead Can Dance - American Dreams
Husker Du - Back From Somewhere / Ice Cold Ice
the XX - Crystalised
Mazzy Star - Still Cold
Queens of the Stone Age - Long Slow Goodbye
Next time, there will be more planning...
cowabungabunga
We all have our news cycle crack, and juicy gossip and drama draw us mere mortals like moths to flames or flies to honey.
For some of us, it's Justin Bieber or Kim Kardashian, and for others of us, it's our favorite World Leaders Fo' Real, as opposed to Stipe & Co's World Leader Pretends. I'm glad I'm not the only one gets immense entertainment from the antics of men with golden guns, scams involving black magic in Dubai, awkwardly gangsta heads of state, geopolitical bros before hos, and rantings about The Kleenex, The Facebook, and The Twitter from a former Reagan-era bad boy who's entered more into Crazy Uncle status, with his night nurse, fabulous fashion sense, and musings on the state of the world.
Thanks to Warner Brothers being lametastic, there is no accompanying music for those of us who reserve our Western Imperialistic Stooge ambition upon the Risk! board or the fantasy realms of D&D to the accompaniment of said college-rockers extraordinaire. Instead, I give you Michael Stipe wearing more eyeshadow than I've ever applied on my face in my life.
REM was awesome around the time that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles hit the cartoon circuit, captivating the hearts and minds of many an aged Millenial. While my cousins and I never thought to tie decorative pillows on our backs to approximate the carapaces of our heroes, we did tie scarves around our heads and run around our dark basements fighting theoretical crime in the sewers.
I never found April as exciting because her yellow jumpsuit was way dorky and it seemed like she was always getting kidnapped and that's not as fun as being a pizza-eating ninja turtle. Google-imaging her is a perilous task because she seems to have quite a hentai fanboy following.
Though, with the exception of hair color, it turns out we're more similar than previously thought. She's supposedly working on a Great American Novel too.
TMNT did, however, introduce the word "Cowabunga!" into our vocabulary and also the existence of Italian Renaissance artists, who ultimately became much more interesting over time. Now, "bunga" conjures up a different kind of party that involves something other than pizza, though there is still an Italian component and a megalomaniacal bad guy with Mafia connections and a media empire who likes to hang out with other evil dudes.
Also, I can't help but notice a similiar complexion between Mr. Boehner and Mr. Bunga-Bunga.
Forget the Red-Headed League of Holmes & Watson, who else is going to be joining the Brotherhood of the Orange Skin?
In other news, the rest of the world needs to review their geography so they know where the Middle East is and what countries it encompasses.
For some of us, it's Justin Bieber or Kim Kardashian, and for others of us, it's our favorite World Leaders Fo' Real, as opposed to Stipe & Co's World Leader Pretends. I'm glad I'm not the only one gets immense entertainment from the antics of men with golden guns, scams involving black magic in Dubai, awkwardly gangsta heads of state, geopolitical bros before hos, and rantings about The Kleenex, The Facebook, and The Twitter from a former Reagan-era bad boy who's entered more into Crazy Uncle status, with his night nurse, fabulous fashion sense, and musings on the state of the world.
Thanks to Warner Brothers being lametastic, there is no accompanying music for those of us who reserve our Western Imperialistic Stooge ambition upon the Risk! board or the fantasy realms of D&D to the accompaniment of said college-rockers extraordinaire. Instead, I give you Michael Stipe wearing more eyeshadow than I've ever applied on my face in my life.
REM was awesome around the time that Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles hit the cartoon circuit, captivating the hearts and minds of many an aged Millenial. While my cousins and I never thought to tie decorative pillows on our backs to approximate the carapaces of our heroes, we did tie scarves around our heads and run around our dark basements fighting theoretical crime in the sewers.
I never found April as exciting because her yellow jumpsuit was way dorky and it seemed like she was always getting kidnapped and that's not as fun as being a pizza-eating ninja turtle. Google-imaging her is a perilous task because she seems to have quite a hentai fanboy following.
Though, with the exception of hair color, it turns out we're more similar than previously thought. She's supposedly working on a Great American Novel too.
TMNT did, however, introduce the word "Cowabunga!" into our vocabulary and also the existence of Italian Renaissance artists, who ultimately became much more interesting over time. Now, "bunga" conjures up a different kind of party that involves something other than pizza, though there is still an Italian component and a megalomaniacal bad guy with Mafia connections and a media empire who likes to hang out with other evil dudes.
Also, I can't help but notice a similiar complexion between Mr. Boehner and Mr. Bunga-Bunga.
Forget the Red-Headed League of Holmes & Watson, who else is going to be joining the Brotherhood of the Orange Skin?
In other news, the rest of the world needs to review their geography so they know where the Middle East is and what countries it encompasses.
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