Notes on dancing to General Public’s “Tenderness”
Friday April 28th 2006, 3:26 pm
1) It is vital to put all self-consciousness into a locked shelf before pressing the play button. If, at any point during your gyrations, your self-consciousness tries to make a break for it, you will not have an enjoyable dance experience. You will, in fact, feel restrained, even shamed, to be bouncing around the living room as Dave Wakeling reminds you of the importance of tenderness in a loving relationship. Lock that drawer, and toss away the key. You can find it later.
2) Whatever your body wants to do, do it. Shake your hips. Slide your neck around like you’ve traded your vertebrae for a Slinky. Imitate those Elvis movie dancing girls, the ones who do the Twist while wearing beehive hairdos and mini-skirts. Let your mind go, and your booty will follow.
3) Make sure no one has a video camera nearby.
Five Questions
Tuesday April 25th 2006, 7:45 am
From Anthony Robinson (who is a bad, bad man):
1)Really…what inspired the flaming four foot phallus?
Damned if I know. I wrote the majority of The Right People on the bus to and from Nissan, and, while we did rumble past the strip club on Century and Aviation (the one with GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS on the marquee), there wasn’t anything on the route that really inspired any weirdness. Chalk it up to the old comedic formula of Outrageously Oversized Object + Fire + Penises = Comedy Gold.
2)Do you let your wife read your stuff, and does it ever scare her that she’s married to the brain that came up with that?
Anne’s always the first person to read my stuff, even before I submit something for critique. She’s as much of a dork as me, if not more; she took college classes in science fiction literature, and she grew up watching Doctor Who on the Beeb. She’s a good sounding board; if something isn’t working for her, it needs work.
So far, she hasn’t been scared, but, then again, she hasn’t read the edited version of TRP, the one that has the oryzaphilia and sandwich fucking. So there’s still hope.
3)Quien es Mas Macho: Boy George O Barbara Bush?
Babs, hands down. That’s not your mother, it’s a man, baby!
4)You get to upgrade your Gray Matter to include any five cybernetic devices you want. What are they?
1. The Astigmaprism, which will take whatever crappy signals it gets from my eyes and turns them into lovely, sharp images.
2. The Object-Find-O-Matic, which will keep me from losing my keys.
3. The Sommelier Sensor, which will take all taste bud data and give me the perfect wine pairing.
4. The Introductron, which will keep from awkward greetings with people I’ve met before, but, dammit, their name is right on the tip of my tongue…
5. The Boobs-A-Lot. The name speaks for itself.
5)If Plan 9 From Outer Space is the *worst* movie ever made (let’s not mention Ishtar, shall we?), then what is the *best* movie ever made–not Snakes on A Plane–?
Singin’ in the Rain. It’s got comedy, romance, history, tension, drama, show-stopping spectacle, pathos, joy, and that dance with Gene Kelly, Cyd Charisse and the giant scarf. If that isn’t the sexiest thing without nudity, then I’ll eat my hat.
Jet packs are for the weak
Monday April 24th 2006, 12:23 pm
That’s it. I want the future to be here, right the hell now, and I want to start with robot limbs. In particular, robot gardening limbs.
I want legs that will double as rototillers. I want to put on a pair of legs, one of which is a shovel while the other is a spading fork. I want forearms that turn into pruning saws, transplant spades, or those funky Japanese weeding tools. I want to turn my body into a gardening machine, all powered by the sun and the occasional fish emulsion infusion.
This is my roundabout way of saying a) I weeded half of the front yard and b) my entire body is killing me. Robot gardening limbs. Now. Please.
And while I’m on a roll…
Wednesday April 19th 2006, 4:23 pm
…I’d like to inform everyone in the world that if I ever catch you misusing the word “literally” in an attempt to make yourself sound more intelligent, I will give you an on-the-spot demonstration of its proper use by literally kicking your ass. Repeatedly.
Same goes with anyone who says “utilize” or “at this point in time” when they mean “use” or “now,” respectively. I will literally kick your ass, and, just so you know, I wear Doc Martens. You’ll know that by the distinctive tread pattern they will have left on the seat of your pants.
A Face for Radio
Wednesday April 19th 2006, 10:48 am
While thinking about the novel version of “The Kite,” I’ve been listening to AM talk radio. I do this every now and then because it revolts and fascinates me; it’s the same feeling I get thinking about cows with portholes in their sides. On the one hand, look at that food processing; on the other, sweet Jebus, but that’s nasty. AM talk is like having someone provoke you and provoke you and provoke you and get ready to get out of the car and start punching people…and then it’s time for a message from the sponsors about mortgage refinancing or vinyl siding. There’s no way I could do it; my brain runs about twenty steps ahead of my mouth, and my tongue doesn’t have the finesse to keep up. I’d babble incoherently, as opposed to the semi-coherent babble you get from John & Ken, Larry Elder and that pompous douchebag Hugh Hewitt (go go Googlebomb!).
But there’s something about the simmering cauldron of anger and bile that makes the medium step over the entertainment line into incitement. I keep thinking about the horror of Rwanda and the role that RTLA radio played in the genocide and what it would take for the FCC to turn a blind eye to the jabberheads’ advocating the elimination of the opposition. The pessimist in me says that it woudn’t take much; breasts, of course, are a much greater threat to the Republic than, say, calls for mass murder.
By the way, this is my roundabout way of pointing out that David Foster Wallace’s article on talk radio, “Host,” is free to view on The Atlantic’s site. Go and read, and be afraid.
Brick
Wednesday April 19th 2006, 8:41 am
If you haven’t seen Rian Johnson’s Brick, do yourself a favor and go. It’s the first movie I’ve seen in a while that was worth every penny of admission. Go. Now.
Suck it up and get it done
Tuesday April 18th 2006, 4:53 pm
That’s my new motto for the rest of my life: suck it up and get it done. Doesn’t matter if it’s writing, training, pulling weeds: suck it up and get it done.
And, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to get done.
