Antisocial Media

Here's the video for " Crosseyed and Painless " from the Talking Heads album Remain In Light . David Byrne: American Genius? David Byrne: Cultural and Racial Appropriator Par Excellence? Of note: video directed by Toni Basil, of "I Want Candy" fame. Also: anyone know of another video that features its generative source less than this one does? Or one that features such beautiful choreography and dance? One last thought: who cares if Viacom won't let Jon Stewart's and Stephen Colbert's videos be posted on YouTube?!? As long as I've got access to such a wealth of Talking Heads rarities I can die a happy hermit.

The voice is a little weird, but I couldn't resist Kermit the Frog interpreting the classic Talking Heads song "Once In A Lifetime" ala Stop Making Sense (still my favorite movie of all time).

A few days late for Mother's Day, but so it goes. Growing up as the son of an epidemiologist, public safety concerns were a prominent part of my upbringing. In particular, the importance of wearing a bike helmet when riding a bike was well and thoroughly established. To this day I think I could total up the number of times I've ridden my bike helmetless on two hands. I definitely owe a large part of my making it through childhood without suffering a traumatic brain injury to my safety-conscious mother. So, when boingboing featured three articles related to bike-helmetry on three consecutive days it just seemed proper to provide links, and to give my beloved mother some props. Plus she's one of my only commenters, so I've gotta keep her happy. ;) Why wear a bike helmet? Baseball bat wielding thugs! Why wear a bike helmet? Protection against getting your head run over by a truck! Why wear a bike helmet? It makes jerk drivers harass you! And as Mom remembers bel...

I went to one of those once. Once. It was across State St. from The Chocolate Shoppe, which has been a Wisconsin-centric ice-creamery since I can remember. I spent my entire Cold Stone experience staring out the window at The Chocolate Shoppe wondering, "Why, oh why, couldn't I have spent my $$$ there, instead of at this corporate hell-hole?" Click on the title of this post to find a happily vicious article on salon.com about Cold Stone Creamery. The author hits the nail right on the head with the description of the Cold Stone ice cream consistency: a vomit-inducing concoction, like lard coated with Kool Whip. [my paraphrase] Yes, it's Finals week. Yes, I'm posting about ice cream instead of finishing my Hungarian exam. What's it to ya?

Maybe it's Finals, maybe it's the Warriors poised on the brink of elimination from the NBA Playoffs, maybe it's just the change in the weather. Whatever it is, there is a weird feeling in the air today. The loud, obnoxious middle-schoolers on BART were louder, the homeless people talking to themselves are angrier, the drivers are more aggressive, and I feel my own hackles up higher than usual, my defenses thinner, my frustrations closer to the surface. It's been cloudy and windy all day, a gray formless layer of uncertain height and a cool wet wind off the Bay. I biked to the Downtown branch of the Berkeley Library and had to BART home after checking out too many books. Okay, time to face up to my last obligation to Hungarian: the dreaded final exam. Then I'll take my five academic credits and skedaddle, thank you very much.

This is ...stomach turning? A cool idea? A guarantee that you will have awkward neighbors if you live here? I'm still chewing on this one... One thing is for sure--I would like it better if the concept was "Tolkein as seen by Thomas Hart Benton " rather than "Tolkein as seen by Thomas Kinkade ." Again, thanks to Madam for this one--Whoa. Also, check out her blog for some serious Knittering.

This one's actual size! Oh, to have a Tolkein rarities collection, and the $$$ wherewithal to build my own real-life Hobbit Hole in order to house my opulent library in style. This is from the back page of Fine Homebuilding, a cool magazine my Dad used to subscribe to. Each month the back page features some outlandish house, or house-building artisan. I love seeing the far-out things people do to their living space, and as my Dad pointed out, an outlandish percentage of the featured homes are in California where the gentle weather lets you do shit that would be impossible in colder, wetter climes. This one, at least, seems to be from out East. It also looks unbelievably cozy. I can envision curling up in a big leather Stickley armchair in front of that hearth on a cold, snowy December night, smoke curling up from my pipe, Black Lab at my feet, snifter of brandy in one hand and The Two Towers in the other... A guy could give himself an infarction with how great that sounds! T...

I should have posted about this earlier, but I was too choked up. Why must the good ones die so young? Your honest, hardcore, take-no-prisoners brand of numbah-krunchin' will be missed, H-Dogg. Here's one of his earliest articles, a wild cry against the powers-that-be entitled " Keep Your Fucking Shit Off My Desk. " Carry on my wayward son/ There'll be peace when you are done/ Lay your weary head to rest/ Don't you cry no more. See you on the other side, homeboy.