Sunday, August 31, 2003

So, how about those MTV Video Music Awards, huh? (I hesitate to write anything about this, since a. I didn’t actually watch the damn thing and b. the news presence of such a non-event is about a day at the most, which makes writing about it at this date sort of like being the 473rd entrant in the Houston 500. But I’ve never let lack of timeliness or relevance stop me before, so boldly I press onwards.)

Anyway, the only somewhat notable event that occurred was the Britney/Madonna kiss. The headline in USA Today this weekend was “Madonna, Spears, Aguilera shock at MTV Awards.” “Shock?” Now, maybe I move in jaded, cynical Generation X circles, but I find it hard to believe that anyone is still shocked by anything Madonna or Britney Spears does at this point. I think even the least culturally aware people in this society are aware that Madonna and Britney have made their livelihoods by carefully marketing and manipulating their sexuality, so anything they do in that area can hardly be considered shocking any more. Maybe there are still Miss Hathaways out there muttering “my word” and pressing a handkerchief to their fevered brow over this stunt, but I doubt that many of them exist or have much cultural influence at this point. And is Christina Aguilera, who made a concerted effort a year ago to transform her public image into that of a Venusian streetwalker, physically capable of shocking anyone any more? I don't think that shock value is why Spears, Aguilera and Madonna are all still famous and selling records - Britney and Christina are still getting by with the combination of looks and carefully constructed pop product, while Madonna is more or less an institution more famous for being famous at this point.

More than anything else, the kiss is a microcosm of what MTV has specialized in over the years - a weightless, insignificant pop culture moment that in the long run will only be remembered as fodder for the endless MTV self-mythologizing clip shows that will run in perpetuity on that network. I can imagine a middle aged Michael Ian Black reminiscing in that flat, EZ-ironic tone about the whole event twenty years from now on “I Love the 00s.”

Thursday, August 28, 2003

I'm gone for the weekend, so in lieu of a new entry, please enjoy these vaguely Labor Day-related diversions:

- An MP3 of "Working Girls (Sunlight Shines)" by the Pernice Brothers, a paean to all you clockwatchers out there keeping America's copy machines full of toner.

- A behind the scenes look back at Jerry Lewis' uncompleted magnum opus The Day the Clown Cried. To this day, I don't know why Jerry didn't sue Roberto Benigni for stealing his idea.

Monday, August 25, 2003

I always look forward to the annual Sporting News ranking of cities in North America based on their sports teams. I think it's because my hometown had the honor of being 1998's worst sports town in America, due to the perennial lousiness of the University of Maryland Eastern Shore basketball team. (This year, you'll be happy to note that Princess Anne has shot all the way up to 281. Ha ha ha, fuck you, Altoona! We're gunning for you next year, Bourbonnais, Illinois!)

Anyway, it's admittedly a dumb list. I mean - Los Angeles #1? Unless "leaving fashionably early" and "post-game traffic" are categories, how the hell could L.A. be the top sports town in America? Baltimore-Washington ranked together? People in Baltimore loathe the Redskins, and now that the novelty of Camden Yards has worn off, no one in DC really cares about the Orioles any more. And why New York and Chicago are on the same list with cities whose claim to sporting fame is hosting a South Atlantic League team is beyond me. So why create this list? For the same reason I'm posting about it here - absolutely nothing worth writing about happens in August, so stupid lists are employed to fill column space until the news cycle turns itself around and inspiration returns.

Hey, did someone say stupid lists?

Words that Snoop Cannot Physically Pronounce

- sloe gin fizz
- blizzard
- schism
- e-business
- Ben Gazzara
- Zizzer Zazzer Zuzz

Next year's music critic buzzword labels:

- Roots electronica
- Post-aggro thrash rap fusion
- Acousticlash (ironic, campy songs performed by hipster jug bands)
- Post-rock novelty songs
- Scrimshaw
- Drum and treble (a scintillating combination of looped techno beats and Tuvan throat singing)
- Unamericana

Traits I look for in a diner:

- Breakfast must be served 24 hours a day. No exceptions. If you can’t walk in there at 3 in the afternoon and get two eggs scrambled, toast, bacon and coffee, it ain’t a real diner.
- Meatloaf, chili and chicken fried steak must be on the menu. I would never actually order these items from a diner, but it’s part of the essential je ne sais croissant of the diner experience.
- For that matter, no more than two of the following items should not appear on a diner menu: buffalo chicken, wraps, any type of salad besides a side or chef salad, or any sort of non-American food. (Spaghetti is acceptable, but frowned upon.)
- Your waitresses (no waiters, thanks) must be middle aged, or at the very least look ten years older than their actual age, and they must loudly discuss the details of their ruinous personal lives within earshot of the customers.
- The jukebox cannot contain any song recorded after 1969. (Also, I prefer one central jukebox to those wall mounted jukeboxes that have popped up all over the place recently, but this isn’t a deal breaker.)
- A diner must be locally owned. The Silver Diner or Johnny Rockets or any of those other 50’s chains are not real diners, but a pale synthetic version of the real thing. Accept no substitutes. (Although, I must admit, the Silver Diner makes a pretty good Reuben.)

Sunday, August 24, 2003

After countless libel lawsuits, backroom negotiations and blackmail threats, the long awaited sequel to Kenneth Anger’s Hollywood Babylon will finally be released by a small French publisher, Le Jejune Press. Here are some of the explosive revelations from Madison Avenue Babylon:

- Uncle Ben was much loathed in the industry for ratting out Communist sympathizers during the blacklist era. His testimony was single-handedly responsible for destroying the careers of Farfel the Nestle dog, the original kid from the Maypo ads and the woman inside the dancing Old Gold cigarette box.

- Speedy the Alka Seltzer mascot slept his way to the top, dissolving in the mouth of every Madison Avenue executive during his rise to fame.

- The Jolly Green Giant? Not exactly “giant,” if you know what I’m saying.

- Reddy Kilowatt’s “natural energy” came from a specially blended mixture of Colombian cocaine, ground African hippopotamus hooves, rust scrapings from a ‘39 LaSalle and fetal tissue directly injected into his bloodstream three times a day.

- Everyone knows that Morris the Cat was as gay as a French horn, but his bizarre interspecies dalliance with the dog from the Chuck Wagon commercials truly shocked and disgusted the animal commercial acting world.

- While portraying himself as a devoted family man in public, popcorn magnate Orville Redenbacher was notorious for his stable of hot young bitches. Orville’s oft-repeated motto was “No old maids in my popcorn, no old maids in my bed.”

Friday, August 22, 2003

This week's MP3 is "Spider in the Snow" by the Dismemberment Plan, off of 1999's Emergency and I. For my money, it's the best album released in the past five years, overflowing with brilliant ideas, original lyrical takes on the oft-covered subject of young adult angst, and driven by a tight-as-hell rhythm section. Sadly, the Plan will be defunct after a final show in DC next month, but their recorded work is well worth investigating if you're not familiar with them - there's more audio available on their website.

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

I’ve been ranting a little too much in this space lately. It’s time to provide a little balm for the soul in the form of three things that rule at this particular moment. Because why would you blog about things that make you hate, when you can blog about things that make you love?

1. Sketch comedy goodness on DVD. Mr. Show season 3 next week, SCTV early next year, The State sometime next year...all we need is for Comedy Central to finally release the Upright Citizens Brigade and a comprehensive Kids in the Hall release and all of the classic sketch comedy shows of the past two decades will be easily accessible on DVD.

2. Soulseek. I've raved plenty about this on ISOYG lately, but damn if this isn't the greatest thing ever invented. Electricity? The internal combustion engine? The microwave? How does MP3s of almost every song ever recorded, including every semi-obscure song I've been spending years searching for, grab you? I don't think it's exaggerating the point that all of mankind's achievements to this point were a mere prelude to the greatness that is Soulseek.

3. The Marathon Deli in College Park, MD. Best Greek takeout place in North America, restaurant quality meals for $7 or less. One of the best things about living in the much (somewhat unfairly) maligned county of Prince George's.

Sunday, August 17, 2003

As a public service to the zero regular readers of this blog from California, the Vitamin B Glandular Show presents a truncated voters guide to the candidates for the California governor’s race. Please print this out and take it with you to the polls on Election Day:

Gray Davis
PUBLIC PERSONA: Bland, spineless nonentity.
FUTURE: Bleak.
WHAT HE SHOULD DO: Bring back the glory days of California under Jerry Brown by hosting nightly coke parties in the governor’s mansion with members of the Eagles and Linda Ronstadt.

Arnold Schwarzenegger
QUALIFICATIONS: Five minute conversation with one of the Kennedys at a Shriver family event.
WOULD PREFER YOU NOT MENTION: Hercules in New York, Junior, Jingle All the Way.
BIGGEST HURDLE TO OVERCOME: Americans will expect more from their elected officials than a unqualified, not too bright man who can barely speak the English language.
CAMPAIGN STRATEGY: If trailing near election day, will go back in time to kill Gray Davis.

Cruz Bustamante
CURRENT JOB: Lieutenant Governor, a job which usually entails cutting the ribbons for interstate off ramps and waiting for the governor to die or be recalled. Cruz is now living the Lieutenant Governor’s dream.
SORTA LOOKS LIKE: The Dunkin’ Donuts guy, plus 100 pounds.
REASON NOT TO VOTE FOR HIM: Proudly displays a picture of himself with Paul Rodriguez on his website.

Gary Coleman
MAJOR GOALS AS GOVERNOR: Put that creep Mr. Horton behind bars, kick the ass of that ripoff little punk Emmanuel Lewis.
WHY HE WON’T WIN: Protracted legal battle with parents over his Diff’rent Strokes earnings will alienate parents of child actors, who represent 11% of the Californian electorate.
CHIEF LIABILITY: Near the end of the Coleman administration, state executives will introduce a younger, cuter Lieutenant Governor to boost flagging approval ratings.

Arianna Huffington
CHIEF DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTIC: Comically indecipherable accent makes Schwarzenegger sound like Garrison Keillor in comparison.
BEST CHANCE OF VICTORY: Courting the sizable “woman in sham marriage with closeted homosexual for personal gain” vote in California.
CHIEF LIABILITY: I agree with almost everything she supports now, but given her erratic political mood swings, she’ll probably be a full-on Randroid Libertarian in a couple of years’ time.

Larry Flynt
MOST NOTED FOR: Making supporters of the First Amendment feel guilty and ashamed for defending him.
CREEPINESS LEVEL: Even for a pornographer, extraordinarily high.
WHY HE MUST BE STOPPED: After Governor Flynt, the Al Goldstein and Max Hardcore runs for high office are not far behind.

Mary Carey
PROFESSION: Porn actress.
TITS: Not real.
MOST SIGNIFICANT FOR: Adding to the “insane Italian election” vibe of the California governor’s race.

Diana Beall Templin
CHIEF DISTINGUISHING CHARACTERISTIC: Incredibly psychotic smile.
TURN-ONS: Guns, smashing the church-state barrier.
TURN-OFFS: Gays, budget deficits.

Gallagher
PLATFORM: Variations of the “hey, this traffic sure is awful” or “hey, these politicians sure do make too much money” gags that have delighted millions of stupid Americans.
SHOULD BE BEATEN REPEATEDLY WITH: A rusty farm implement, or maybe a seven-iron.
UNRELATED, BUT I THOUGHT I’D MENTION IT ANYWAY: The only thing more pathetic than Gallagher is Gallagher II, the guy who is related to the original Gallagher and borrowed his act or something. The fact that there is enough of a demand for not one, but two fucking Gallaghers in this country ought to be enough to take aback even the most ardent “America is #1” zealot.

Friday, August 15, 2003

MP3. There's been an unmistakeable pale hue to the songs I've picked thus far for the MP3 of the week, so let's break up that unbearable whiteness of being with this week's selection - "Can I Change My Mind" by Tyrone Davis, a sublime slice of soul circa 1969.

Wednesday, August 13, 2003

There are a lot of cultural critics (pop- and serious-) who malign the 1970's as a vast wasteland of endless crap: an endless parade of poor taste, misbegotten values and social decay. It seems to me that this is a gross oversimplification and the worthwhile-stuff-to-utter-crap ratio wasn't really much different than any other decade.

I'd like to write a first-hand defense of the 1970's, but I was born in 1978, and I'm not sure if any of my memories from that time period would be particularly relevant. (The first draft of this mini-essay was entitled "The 1970's: The Age of Crib Mobiles and My Parents Waving Shiny Things in Front of My Face.") So everything here is based on pop culture references and second hand accounts from people I know who were slightly more aware at the time, and probably has no basis in any sort of reality.

- Books. OK, the best seller lists were polluted by soft porn. self-help books and “Jonathan Livingston Seagull,” but there were some classic works created in the period as well. “Gravity’s Rainbow.” “Ragtime.” John Cheever’s short stories. Hunter S. Thompson, before he became completely unreadable. Great novels by Vonnegut, Roth, Kundera and Naipaul.

- Movies. The 1970’s represented the greatest confluence between artistic achievement and commercial success in the history of American movies. Just some of the classic movies that were also major successes at the box office: “The Godfather I and II,” “Apocalypse Now,” “A Clockwork Orange,” “Taxi Driver,” “Manhattan” and “Annie Hall,” “One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest,” “Chinatown,” and so forth.

- Music. A golden age for R&B and soul, the punk and post-punk explosion that provided a much needed shot in the arm to a fading genre, power pop, Krautrock, funk, the birth of rap music…the 1970’s had a lot of great musical trends and moments. Even the disco and dumb-as-dirt “classic” rock that dominated the charts at the time yielded some gems. Any era that features the best works by Al Green, Parliament/Funkadelic, the Clash, Steely Dan and Neil Young, to name just a few, deserves its historical due.

- Sex. If pop culture is to be believed, the 70’s were the epoch of casual sex. A shag-carpeted wonderland of singles bars, swingers parties and free clinics, where one night stands were the coin of the realm and the worst thing that would happen to you could be cured by a penicillin shot or (after Roe v. Wade) a quickie abortion. I daily curse the fact that I have to live in this incredibly Puritan, lethal disease-riddled social environment. The fact that I never got to bang a feather-haired secretary in my bachelor pad after a couple of burgers at the Ground Round is one of my great regrets in life.

- Politics. Not a great decade by any means, but subsequent years have made it look not quite as bad. I’m obviously not going to defend Nixon, but at least he was willing enough to exit the stage when the gig was finally up. Gerald Ford was kind of the proto-Bush; an inept, none too bright bumbler who became another example of the Peter Principle (and mercifully didn’t receive the artificial popularity boost that Bush did). Jimmy Carter may have been a failure, but at least he was intelligent and decent, something that’s been lacking in pretty much every major political leader since then. And the great American rightward shift that has led to the rich/poor gap widening and a return of Victorian sexual prudery was still in the future.

- Fashion. Even I won’t try to defend most of the fashion choices that were prevalent in the 1970’s, but there were a few cool things. The afro. The mass popularity of jeans, which remains with us to this day. (OK, that’s about it. Maybe the critics were right about this one.)

All in all, not as bad as you might think at first. Of course there were horrible things, too - the recession/oil crisis, Watergate, godawful clothing and design trends, having only three television networks (one of them usually controlled by Fred Silverman) - but the 1970’s had enough redeeming elements to make them worth revisiting and re-appreciating. (And not in the ironic, “gee, ain’t this quaint” sense of the word, either.)

Sunday, August 10, 2003

Much apologies to anyone who has stumbled upon this site recently for the lack of substantial content in the past week or so. I blame it on August. There’s a certain dazed lethargy that everyone seems to get around August, the result of the relentless pounding of summer. Sure, June’s great - shorts! cold drinks! Slurpees! constant air conditioning! - but by August, the day-in day-out heat and humidity and evening thunderstorms have taken their toll. This is particularly painful for those of us who live in massively paved-over, swampy metropolises like DC where the air turns into soup and the harsh landscape offers no relief. Add that to the fact that absolutely nothing happens during August - the top news story the other day was that Carly Simon will finally reveal the subject of "You're So Vain" to the highest bidder, which might have been interesting in 1978 but now barely registers a shrug - and it's a recipe for ennui, mild crankiness and long afternoon naps. So let me try to shake this out of my system by listing off a few mild annoyances.

- These Williamsburg hipsters. I'm sick of them, with their hipper-than-thee attitudes, their mesh-back tricornered hats, their vegan johnnycakes with imported chicory.

- Men who say that they're "lesbians trapped in a man's body." OK, then, get the sex change already.

- The Hilton sisters. Angelyne is still alive, so why do we need more not-really-attractive women who are famous despite having no discernable talents or abilities?

- People who make lame jokes of a racial/sexual nature and then use the old "you're just being PC" defense when you don't laugh. I'm willing to laugh at "offensive" material, but it has to be more original than your run of the mill comedic fodder.

- My upstairs neighbors, who apparently have installed something sounding like a handcranked ice cream maker in the wall right above my bathroom mirror. I guess I should go up there at 3 am the next time I can't sleep, so at least I could get a couple of scoops of Razzleberry Double Nut Fudge out of the deal.
Way back in May, I posted a list of my 25 favorite albums of all time. Since then, I’ve been plagued with doubt and regret over the albums I omitted from that list. (Which should give you an idea of how shallow and unrewarding my internal life is, but anyway.) So in an attempt to assuage my conscience, I now present my 26th through 50th favorite albums of all time, again in rough chronological order and subject to change at any time due to personal whims:

Robert Johnson, Complete Recordings
Doo Wop Box, vol. 1
John Coltrane, Blue Train
Sonny Rollins, Way Out West
Grant Green, Born to be Blue
Beatles, Revolver
Bob Dylan, Highway 61 Revisited
Nuggets Box, vol. 1
Led Zeppelin III
Rolling Stones, Exile on Main Street
Can, Tago Mago
Cheap Trick, Heaven Tonight
Marvin Gaye, Anthology
Elvis Costello, My Aim is True
Television, Marquee Moon
The Fall, Hex Enduction Hour
R.E.M., Murmur
Replacements, Let it Be
Husker Du, New Day Rising
Tom Waits, Franks Wild Years
Teenage Fanclub, Bandwagonesque
Nirvana, In Utero
American Music Club, Mercury
Neutral Milk Hotel, In the Aeroplane Over the Sea
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy, I See a Darkness

Friday, August 08, 2003

This week's MP3 is "Doin' Me In" by Gonn, as mentioned in this month's High Hat. Not much I can add to that, so just enjoy one of the great lost rock and roll singles of all time.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

This week marks the six month anniversary of the first post on this here blog. Founded by Swedish immigrants during the harsh winter of 2003, the Vitamin B Glandular Show has braved overwhelming public indifference, frequent creative dry spells and continual self-deprecation to become a leading source of obscure references and half-jokes, ponderings on topics important solely to the author, and disjointed run-on sentences.

Despite the lack of original content this week, rest assured that I'm not resting on my laurels here. I intend on hammering away at this thing long after the whole blog phenomenon moves from mildly unfashionable to completely embarrassing. Back tomorrow with more MP3s, more short essays, more stabs at comedy, more of the same blog-based pop culture product you've come to expect and tolerate from this site.

Monday, August 04, 2003

Today is a momentous day in world history. For today, the greatest publication mankind has ever known has launched its first issue. Yes, the long awaited first issue of The High Hat is finally here. Check it out - a murderer's row of smart, funny writers, slick-as-all-get-out visual design from Lee Caulfield, the definitive slam of that godawful "God Bless the USA"...what more could you want? I'd be saying this even if I didn't have an article in this issue. So read it today, and when historians are calling the early 2000's "the era of the High Hat," you can say you were one of the first onboard.

Sunday, August 03, 2003

As part of our neverending attempt to provide a thin veneer of culture over this otherwise lunkheaded enterprise, the Vitamin B Glandular Show is moderately pleased to bring you a new segment, Culture for Internet Subcultures. Today, we bring you an excerpt from James Joyce's classic novel Ulysses translated entirely into l33tsp33k. I think you'll find that Joyce's rich, enveloping prose style takes on a new significance when translated into a language used by Mountain Dew-chugging, outside light-eschewing hax0rs. (Translation courtesy of this site.)

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he w41led:

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57ephen l4u9hed.

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8uck mull194n 9leefully 8en7 84ck, l4u9h1n' 70 7eh d4rk e4ve5dr0pp1n' ce1l1n'.

-- murder j00! he l4u9hed.

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-- 7here'2 4 9en7lem4n here, 51r, 7eh 477end4n7 541d, k0m1n' ph0rw4rd 4nd 0ffer1n' 4 k4rd. phr0m 7eh phreem4n. he w4n72 70 5ee 7eh ph1le2 0f 7eh k1lkenny pe0ple ph0r l457 ye4r.

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-- 7h12 9en7lem4n? phreem4n'2 j0urn4l? k1lkenny pe0ple? 70 8e 5ure. 900d d4y, 51r. k1lkenny... we h4ve cer741nly...

4 p471en7 51lh0ue77e w417ed, l157en1n'.

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v0lu8le, du71ful, he led 7eh w4y 70 4ll 7eh pr0v1nc14l p4per2, 4 80w1n' d4rk ph19ure ph0ll0w1n' h12 h457y heel2.

7he d00r cl05ed.

Friday, August 01, 2003

Here is this week's exercise in copyright violation, "That's Entertainment" by the Jam. This is an alternate version from the box set Direction, Reaction, Creation with drums and without the backwards guitar solo from the original version. And if you want to play along at home, it's Bb to G minor for the verse, C minor to Ab for the chorus.