WFMU's Beware of the Blog

New Pornographers Visit WFMU

Like a grape popsicle consorting with a parched tongue in the dead of summer, Vancouver's power-pop supergroup, the New Pornographers hit WFMU's airwaves yesterday during Brian Turner's show. Our studios were inundated with a much-needed blast of hand-clapping, tambourine-spanking tunes full of quirky hooks and satisfying harmonies bleeding with oohs and aahs: click to hear the performance in Real Audio or streaming MP3, or pretend like you were here by downloading a video clip (avi file, 44MB) of the set.

The band's line-up this time around has shifted just a bit, with 6 members present for their current tour, each individual a separate force to be reckoned with in the music world apart from their work with the New Pornographers: Carl Newman (vocal, guitar), Todd Fancey (vocal, guitar; also has a solo career), John Collins (bass, vocal; also in Canadia's goofy spazz band, Thee Evaporators), Blaine Thurier (keyboard, vocal; filmmaker by night), Kurt Dahle (drums, vocal; co-produced Fancey's album), and the debut of Carl's niece Kathryn Calder on vox (making her first radio appearance and second ever live performance with the band). Neko Case will be meeting up with the group later on the tour route.

In other Pornographer news, Carl Newman dons a WFMU t-shirt (Chris Ware design, same one as shown in photo above... c'mon, you know you want to be a copycat) in the band's new video for "Use It," which co-stars Vancouver rock icon and celebrity interpreter Nardwuar the Human Serviette and comedian David Cross. The clip should be available on Matador's site soon. Twin Cinema, the New Pornographers' latest album, will be released August 23.

Group: Xex, the Story Told

Xex were a band that stuck out like a sore thumb in South River, New Jersey, deep in the heart of metal-lovin' Middlesex county (not far from Bon Jovi's Sayreville stomping grounds). They garnered little press during their early 80's excursions to New York, where it seemed they had hoped to fit in with the downtown scene; though Xex's synth-weirdness might have been out of time and place even then. To Live and Shave in LA's Tom Smith was doing some shows on WFMU some years ago and discovered their Group: Xex LP in our library, hunted down the band for a reissue CD, out in 2004 on the Smack Shire label. The story of Xex gets told in great detail here, (and I mean detail, there's even a link to the Pathmark on Route 1 in Edison) thanks to an extended interview with Waw Pierogi by Mike Appelstein. Check it out and also take a listen to "Fashion Hurts" (from Mike Lupica's show).

Phone Home

MP3 download | Fast Matt "sns"

All children of the late 70’s/early 80’s (along with E.T. fans) reserve a special place in their hearts for the Speak & Spell learning appliance (even have-not kids like me). If you're now feeling a burning nostalgic sensation, visit this Speak & Spell simulator site to relive the halcyon days of your youth (minus the skinned knees), or download this poor-quality vintage commercial for Speak & Spell (wmv), starring then-ubiquitous super-dad Bill Cosby.

Inevitably, someone somewhere on the gravy train thought it would be clever to mix up the circuity guts of the S&S, rendering arty noise from the innocent spelling robot's voice; thenceforth the music world was forever changed. Listener Steve alerted me to Fast Matt, a prolific bender (geek name for circuit-shuffler), who sells his glitched-out S&S devices and offers some amazingly scatalogical MP3 audio from his creations.

You can visit this site for more souped-up S&Ss, or go here for some instruction on S&S deconstruction.

And, of course, WFMU has played many a song featuring the sounds of a manipulated Speak & Spell, so take a listen:

Kraftwerk  “Numbers” from an archive of Nickel and Dime Radio
Experimental Audio Research  “Track 2” as heard on Andrew Listfield's show
Komputergurl  “I Love My Speak and Spell” swiped from Pseu Braun's show
Christina Kubisch  “Speak and Spell (excerpt)” from an archive of Strength Through Failure with Fabio

Indecency Complaints Recede into Near Oblivion

Let the desensitization begin, friends. A new report released by the FCC shows that indecency complaints are steeply declining. Cheers to that!

The numbers are quite astonishing: the last part of 2004 saw 317,833 radio and TV broadcasting complaints, which decreased by about half during the first quarter of this year. Check out the trend for Q1, 2005:

January - 138,652
February - 14,480
March - 3,884

It seems as though America is shying away from the idea of federal censorship (or at least, the organization responsible for over 95% of complaints to the FCC is calming down a tad), which provides an interesting backdrop as the commission decides how to handle the backlog of complaints they've been ignoring since the beginning of this year. The recent hiring of a vehement anti-porno activist as an FCC policy advisor reeks of another indecency crackdown, but the feds may find more regulatory action difficult to defend considering the public's waning interest.

LET US NOW PRAISE CHARLIE MURRAY

Hello, Everybody--nice seeing you again.

Charlie Murray was born in 1976 in a little village on the Hudson River in New York. He had a brother and two sisters and a mom and a dad. His mom taught at the village elementary school, but instead of staying in the public school or going to the local Catholic school, Charlie went to Archibishop Sepinac High School in White Plains. After he graduated in 1993, he joined the village volunteer fire department and became the driver of one of the ladder trucks. A lot of the other guys in the fire department had jobs at the village department of public works, so Charlie got a job there, too. At the DPW he did stuff like replace the bulbs in the street lamps. He also started his own landscaping business on the side, and we’d see him in the evenings, driving around in his pick-up truck with Buster, his pit bull, watering the flowers in the hanging baskets on Main Street. Even though the landscaping thing was supposed to be a business, Charlie maintained the yards of several elderly people for free. When the chief of the fire department had knee surgery, Charlie went and cut his grass and refused to take any money for it. It seemed like he was always working, and always helping someone out.

The ladies who sit in the evening on the bench by the parking lot on Main Street gossiped a little about Charlie and his girlfriend, because she was “older” and maybe was divorced. When she and Charlie got an apartment together in the village just north of ours it turned out the landlord wouldn’t allow dogs, so Buster had to stay in a garage where Charlie would pick him up every day. No wonder that dog always looked so happy, driving around in the pick-up truck.

On Monday, August 8, after almost 11 years with the DPW, Charlie Murray was fixing a burned-out street light on Main Street and he got electrocuted and he died. Sluggo and I went up to the funeral home on Thursday night to pay our respects, and the street was a mob scene. There was a cop directing traffic, cars parked in every available spot for blocks, firetrucks everywhere, and about a hundred firemen in dress uniforms getting organized in the parking lot. We pushed our way inside, past a village trustee, the local pharmacist, and one of the librarians. The funeral home was jammed with people. The next day most of the village offices were closed so Charlie’s friends could go to his funeral.

It’s hard to stick to the facts and not make up a big story about Charlie. Why did he work so hard all the time? Why did he go to school in White Plains? What’s going to happen to his girlfriend, and what’s going to happen to his dog? Did he know how many people loved him? If you Google “Charlie Murray” or “Charles B. Murray” the only results that come up are about other people with the same name—there’s nothing at all about our Charlie, but it turns out he was one of the most important people in our town.

The local weekly newspaper put the story of Charlie’s death on the front page. They illustrated it with a file photo of him rescuing a kitten from a storm drain.

Thanks for reading my blog entry this week, and may God bless.

Always Wear A Helmet

45 (MP3)  Ballad (MP3)  Ballad2 (MP3)  SRC  (MP3)
"WHY"
It Seems that wherever in this world I go,
No matter who nor what I know,
People will look; some of them stare,
I wonder if they really care?

They see this cane with its golden crown,
some of them smile, but most of them frown.
I hear them laugh, and I see them cry,
No matter what,
They all ask why?

Well, I'm just like you, and you,
and you and your wife,
We all have a special purpose in life.
This way of life I'm glad that I found,
For like you, I too, make the world go 'round.

We're all alike,
Oh yes, we are
We all have a dream on some faraway star.

For me when it is over and done at the end of a day,
Some can relax, but I go to pray
For I know that tomorrow in some other place,
I'll have that fear again to face.

Could it be the quest for money and fame,
Oh no,
To play with my life is not much of a game.

It's a want  -  a want that's so dear
It's given me faith,
I can face that fear.

Oh, yes, I do think about a day
in life when fate came along and struck my way.
Each time it's happened they've all said,
This guy is lucky he's not dead.

They were right.
But I wanted to get up to try it again.
I kept telling myself that I knew I could win,
so I'd close my eyes and to the Lord I'd pray,
Oh, help me God, let me walk some day.

He did.
And every stitch on every scar
has just brought me closer to my dream afar.

To be a man,
To do my best,
To stand alone is my only quest.

Success is a term that has broad use,
For having none in life there is no excuse.

For you, what I do is not right---
But, for me, it is not wrong.
What I have been trying to tell you all along
is that it's got to be,
You ask why?
Well, just like you, I gotta be me.

Evel Knievel

I'm A Cliche

If there's one thing I've always tried to avoid in life it's being a cliche. But my travels around Manhattan this month have me convinced that all tourists should die.

I hate hating tourists. I want to be the kind of man who'd gladly welcome them to the place where I spend most of my week: "Thanks for visiting New York!", I said, waving politely. I want to be that kind of man... but I'm not. I long to have a better nature, be more tolerant, more patient... and then it gets hot like this, like a huge blowdryer is trained on you constantly and you just want to kick the guts out of every tourist you see.

August is the absolute worst. They come in from everywhere. From Europe, from China and Japan... and from Bumfuck, USA. From New Jersey and all-over the tri-state area. They stumble, dazed, through the Port Authority, spilling out onto Eighth Avenue blinking their eyes at the bright lights. They stand around in packs, figuring out which way to go next. They get on the bus, ask a bunch of questions and step off again. Or they decide to ride and don't have change or a MetroCard, so they thrust two one-dollar bills at the driver, like he's gonna stick them in his pocket. Once they find some sucker who'll cough up change, they refuse to move to the back of the bus. They cluster near the rear door, whole families, every one of them wearing a fanny-pack. And they just won't move when it comes time. They can't get out of the goddamn way. If there's an unofficial slogan in New York, it's this: "KEEP IT MOVING".

See? I've become a cliche. I'm complaining about tourists. I disgust myself. I should be talking about how much money they pump into the economy, how they make New York a world-class city, a truly international destination. But BOY do tourists SUCK.

I'll stop now.

Voyeurs' Delight

Hit up Found Magazine's Find of the Week page for oodles of found object zen.

(Thanks to Karrie for the hint)

For your found audio needs, look no further than WFMU's own Audio Kitchen archives, where dusty unlabeled casettes unearthed from thrift stores open a portal to the sordid lives of strangers. The Audio Kitchen is also available as a podcast, which you can pick up by visiting WFMU's Podcast Centralia page.

WFMU Fashion on the Road

Hooray! On my way to WFMU Thursday I saw TWO people wearing WFMU t-shirts. TWO I say! TWO sightings! Good lord, this is exciting, and the fact that I didn't kill either one of them while driving is just as amazing as the sightings themselves. The first was a guy on a motorcycle wearing a blue metalflake helmet coming out of the huge post office in the bowels of Kearny. He was sporting the "Learn Radio at Home" shirt by Chris Ware that we still sell in the WFMU webshop; it looked comfortably broken in. The other fella, who was helping/teaching someone how to park their car on the street in Jersey City was wearing a sweat-stained vintage "Stop the Descent" shirt. I always chuckled to myself "Stop the Decent" whenever I wore mine  (pictured right), as WFMU has to stand for something, and although indecency by FCC standards is not really what I meant, being anything but decent in today's society is commendable and completely in line with my Beavisian humor. And just because I mentioned our gear & the only link in the posting is to our store does not mean anyone put me up to this. OK, Ken, let go of my hair....

You're fuckin' pretty loud, New Jersey!

Because it's an utter act of criminal negligence that this is not readily available via a quick google search, we hereby present to you the mentally-defying sounds of the between-song banter that tumbled from the mouth of Venom vocalist Cronos when his band played at City Gardens, (Trenton, NJ).

Venom - Spoken Excerpts Recorded live at City Gardens (Download MP3) (Not safe for work)

Backstory: In 1986, Black Metal legends Venom played what some thought of as an unlikely bill with Rollins-era Black Flag at famed punk dump City Gardens, in scenic Trenton, New Jersey. The club was a magnet for all types of unsavory social elements -- skinheads, criminals, bikers, leather-studded punks, people who liked Meat Beat Manifeto, and so forth. Anyway, the punkers, metalheads, and general thugs who turned out for the show not only got to witness two of the more badass bands of the era sharing a stage, but were also treated to some of the most (unintentionally?) hilarious between-song stage banter ever, courtesy of Venom's knuckle-dragging vocalist Cronos.

Wm's DVD Hit List

DVDs have been around long enough that releases pandering to more obscure tastes are now a given.  (If you remember, it took CDs a while to delve into the farther reaches of "good" taste; now we hardly blink when confronted with a 19-hour G.I. Gurdjieff box set.)  I no longer have any doubt that I will someday hold in my hands DVD reissues of WR: Mysteries of the Organism, Dellamorte Dellamore, Elevator to the Gallows and the works of Kenneth Anger.  There are a few films recently (and not so recently) surfaced on DVD that warrant mention, both for their outstanding quality as films, and for the celebratory fact that someone had the cojones to put these titles out.

The Ultimate Camper-Slasher Film
Forget Friday the 13th.  Forget the whole series.  Jason Voorhees (one of the dullest characters in the horror genre) has nothing on a couple of inbred Virginian twins.  Whatever camp appeal the loosely strung together kill scenes of the Friday series may provide, Just Before Dawn (1980) is guaranteed to thrill on a more sophisticated and cathartic level.  A worthy descendant of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Just Before Dawn has a subtlety and lingering creepiness not seen too often in this genre, i.e., what you don't see, or what you see quickly out of the corner of your eye, is ultimately more unsettling than any graphic gore that could have been provided.  Shriek Show's reissue packs a full 2nd disc of cast and crew interviews, trailers and stills galore.  Click here for my full review posted on the IMDb.

Eye Myth
I’m a whore for the early days of experimental film, especially of the 50s and 60s.  The thoughtfully-assembled, gloriously remastered Stan Brakhage double-DVD on Criterion (rel. summer 2003) was therefore a must-have.  Brakhage’s goal was to liberate the eye from learned perceptions, i.e., "How many colours are there in a field of grass to the crawling baby unaware of 'green'?”  Nowhere is this notion more manifest than in Dog Star Man, presented on disc 1 of the set.  In addition to the images filmed, the actual negative was painted on, scratched and distressed any number of ways.  The result is a fast moving (but not un-soothing) cavalcade of color imagery and superimposition.  That said, the sheer beauty of Dog Star Man, and many of the other films in this collection, will likely keep the uninitiated from feeling bored or over-articized; inasmuch as these are unquestionably experimental works, lacking plot or narrative, they are nonetheless accessible to anyone with a relatively open mind and a set of working eyes.  (Note: Some films in the set are not for the faint-hearted, including unblinking autopsy footage and a live birth; these are not, however, typical of what’s presented.)

Tropical Fruit Reviews

Just got back from traveling around Asia... Wandering the streets of vast metropoli, exploring obscure corners of ancient ruins, digging my toes into white sand beaches, and pattering around intricately decorated buddhist temples has led me to a new level of enlightenment. I've been missing out on some damn good fruit... Here's a roundup of my favorite new culinary delights, appearing in order of relative deliciousness:

1. Sugar Apple (originally introduced to me as Custard Apple, which is a misnomer even though it makes more sense): looks like more of a nubby artichoke than an apple. The flesh of this sucker has the consistency of an overripe melon (can be eaten with a spoon) and tastes like an amalgamation of pear, custard and apple.
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2. Rambutan, Longan, Lychee. Ok, so I've had a lychee before, but it was at the bottom of an alcoholic beverage, so that doesn't really count. These 3 fruits are in the same family, with an outer rind that is easily peeled off, revealing transluscent, grapelike flesh and an inner seed that you don't eat. The fruit tastes like varying degrees of sugary bliss, resembling the taste I believed I was going to be rewarded with when I chewed up and swallowed a wad of punch-flavored bubblicious as a kid. The rambutan receives the highest marks for looking like some sort of rockstar sea urchin. Longans taste a bit muskier than lychees or rambutan, but that's the only flavor difference between the 3 worth noting. These fruits are truly high rollers, their prestige warranting an international symposium.

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3. Jackfruit. The world's largest fruit. Here's where exotic fruit lovers start getting competitive: jackfruit fans, in an effort to keep up with the lychee lovers, have both a book and a festival with which to honor their tropical muse. These puppies are crisp and fibrous, taste like a cross between papaya and melon, and leave the palate with a hint of banana and bubble gum aftertaste.
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4. Dragonfruit. Looks like a hot pink ostrich egg enveloped with green flames on the outer rind, but once cut open, the appearance suspiciously resembles cookies and cream. This fruit comes from the pitaya cactus, and the pulp is a bit softer than melon. It tastes like a very mild melon, but is full of scrumptious little edible kiwi-like seeds.

 

Phishing Magician

You've no doubt heard about the phenomenon phishing, whereby scammers e-mail you pretending they're from legitimate companies (banks, credit card companies and online retailers) with whom you do business and threaten the status of your account, claiming they'll shut you down unless you click on the embedded hyperlink and "verify" certain information. These criminals are hoping you'll be so swayed by the official-looking graphics and stern tone ("...access to your account will be limited. This is a fraud prevention measure meant to ensure that your account is not compromised.") that you'll gladly give up personal info (passwords, account numbers, etc.) which will allow them to steal your identity and rob you blind.

When I first started getting phishing e-mails (or "spoofs" as they're called) they were well-written and reasonable, almost genteel: We regret to inform you that your eBay account has been suspended due to concerns we have for the safety and integrity of the eBay community. Convincing. Luckily, I'd heard of phishing and knew not to be deceived. You'd think the phishers would become more sophisticated with time -  but the quality has fallen off sharply as more dilettantes jump into the fray. The formerly pleading tone is now accusatory, threatening:

Ignoring our request, for an extended period of time, may result in account limitations or may result in eventual account closure.

We regret to inform you that your eBay account has been suspended due to the violation of our site policy below: False or missing contact information - Falsifying or omitting your name, address, and/or telephone number (including use of fax machines pager numbers, modems or disconnected numbers).

Misspelling, incorrect punctuation and mangled syntax have become common and are more obvious tip-offs:

If you choose to ignore our request, you leave us no choise but to  temporaly suspend your account.

We need to inform you that during our security reform we are asking every user to become ID Verified, this security measure will protect our customers from account thefts and any other fraudulent activities.

Note: Requests for information will be initiated by PayPal Business Development; this process cannot be externally requested through Customer Support. Sincerely

Please do not reply to this e-mail. Mail sent to this address cannot be answered. For assistance,secure your account log in to your PayPal account and choose the "Help" link in the footer of any page.

You have received this email because we have strong reason to believe that your eBay account had been recently compromised.

For both, our and your security, we are asking you to activate an online account on our database.

It often seems as if English is the sender's second language:

Due to our new services you have to pay for your eBay fees. You can pay with your credit/debit card. We will ask for your credit/debit card only once. We will charge your account once per month. However you will receive a confirmation request in about 24 hours after the credit/debit card is authorized. You have 24 hours from the time you'll receive this e-mail to complete this eBay Request.

If you think you've been phished, forward the spoof e-mail to the legitimate company being impersonated or send it to [email protected] (follow the instructions found here). Forward the more entertaining ones to me: [email protected]

Wreckless Eric Speaks, Presumably After Chris Martin Pisses In His Cheerios

Some musings from Wreckless Eric's site, reposted under the assumption we can say bye-bye to Gwyneth Paltrow ever coming to our Record Fair.

18 July 2005

Make Wealth History

After the Live 8 fiasco and the annual Glastonbury tripe-fest I felt compelled to put something on the site about it all. I'd got halfway through writing what follows when the London bombing happened. I didn't want to carry on, it didn't seem appropriate at the time. I'm very sad and sorry about what's happened. But we have to carry on and the bombings haven't changed the way I feel about Live 8 and all the rest of it. It might make me hugely unpopular but here it is:

Cold Play might be a good starting point. Who the hell likes them? Personally I can't stand them and I don't know anybody else who likes them either. They must be the most self-important group that ever was. I could forgive Chris Martin for his horrible haircut, his naff trainers, his poncey clipped Oxford graduate accent, for the way he prances around holding a microphone like a closet gay handling a cock for the first time wailing into it with faux-passion, for his stupid dancing, and even for that un-shaved chic which makes him look, from a distance, as though he's been dipped in egg white and had Rice Crispies tipped over him.

I could forgive the rest of them for being tubby, nondescript and badly dressed. And as to the music - if I was going to be reasonable I'd just say it isn't my cup of tea so I don't go out of my way to listen to it - but I'm not so how about boring, grim, pretentious and contrived. I'm even prepared to tolerate the sight of Chris Martin's big square arse - a feature he shares with Tony Blair and, come to think of it, Elvis Costello. None of them can help their big square arses but it's not the kind of feature you want to see in a pop star. I suppose they all got it from sitting down a lot - writing songs, passing exams, becoming all-powerful, and generally working out how to make a lot of money and appear disgustingly clever. But Chris Martin's pomposity I find unforgivable. At Glastonbury he went through a whole routine during the obligatory acoustic part of the set explaining that, if they messed up the number they were going to play, everyone should ask Michael Eavis for a fifty pence refund on their ticket, but if they liked it they should donate fifty pence to Live 8. Cute. He went on to say that Cold Play supported Live 8, which is fair enough, but then he said: '...and anyone who doesn't is, in our opinion, a knobhead.' Well, maybe I'm a knobhead, but Chris Martin is, in my opinion, a silly cunt.

¡Dancing in the Streets!

From my peepholes at Legalize Dancing...big shouts to them for helping put together this long, long, looooong overdue lawsuit.  In the 90s I spent many evenings DJing, dancing, having a good time...until Rudy Ghouliani and his nightlight task force goons showed up.  Usually around 12:30-1:30am, just when things were about to pop off, they would shine flashlights in people's faces, write tickets and even padlock your favorite downtown lil' spot--because of DANCING.  That's right, dancing was and still is ILLEGAL in NYC.  Quality of life my ass.

I also think its hilarious they got the choreographer from footloose involved.  And the ex-owner of the Plant Bar is my man Dominique, who's been doing stuff in NYC for years, and currently part of the electro-ish dance rock group the Glass.  Mas info on his group here.

DANCERS SUE CITY TO REPEAL CABARET LAWS

Four Dancers - Byron Cox, Ian Dutton, John Festa, and Meredith Stead - and a social-dance organization, the Gotham West Swing Club, filed suit June 23rd, 2005, in a New York State Supreme Court, calling for the immediate repeal of the Caberet Laws on the ground that they restrict the state's guarantee of freedom of expression by legislating and limiting the act of social dancing at eating and drinking establishments.

The plaintiffs in the case are represented by a team of lawyers that includes NYU law professor Paul Chevigny and former New York Civil Liberties Union Executive Director Norman Siegel.  The next court date in hte case is September 2nd, when the city will offer its initial response to the suit.  On October 18th, the plaintiffs will file their response.  The judge is Hon. Michael Stallman.

Pearl Williams: For This You'll Need A Glusenshpiegelbaster (MP3s)

I picked up my first Pearl Williams album many years ago while working at the Confirmed Bachelor Record Store. Recorded live in the early 60s during a "late, late show," A Trip Around The World Is Not A Cruise opens like this:

(Pearl sits down at the piano, tinkles a few chords)

"Good evening, this is Pearl Williams. A raconteur, a story seller - dirty stories, clean stories. I'm also a chanteuse - which is French for cuerva. I own a vibrator. A French poodle. And I went out and bought a Roto-Rooter.  Oh that Roto-Rooter (followed by an unintelligible but no doubt filthy Yiddishism). Oh I love my Roto-Rooter. A looong Roto-Rooter, I can lend it to two broads standing behind me. Definition, of indecent: If it's long enough, hard enough, and in far enough, it's in decent."

And so it goes. Lots of self-accompanied after-hours shtick and songs - mostly one-liners and jokes about "knishes, "shlongs," and "the new Jewish holiday - October 21, the day the new Cadillacs go on sale." All delivered with Pearl's husky-voiced killer timing. Check these sites for her bio and historical context (i.e., Belle Barth and Patsy Abbott).

Here are 28 MP3s of Pearl Williams' best and ballsiest bits pulled from her bawdy adult party albums:

One More Guitar Geek

Guitar + Mandolin + Fiddle = One Silly Silly Man

More pet projects at the Odd Music Gallery.

via Music Thing
 

FCC Revisiting Indecency?

Ever since conservative playboy Kevin Martin rose to the position of Chair at the FCC this March, the commission has been uncomfortably silent on the issue of indecency (directly following a full year of puritanical nipplegate backlash). Given Martin's history of hating on our 4-lettered friends (even in a patriotic context), we have been expecting the assault on free speech in Washington to intensify.

Today, the FCC turned off the road of inactivity concerning indecency, hiring Penny Nance, a Christian anti-porn activist, as a policy advisor (click here to read the full Mediaweek article). This move indicates that broadcasters are headed for another barrage of indecency fines.

Legislation that would make indecency violations more expensive than the fines for dumping toxic waste has been sitting on the back-burner in the U.S. Senate for a few months now. We believed that the bill's fatal flaw was dragging cable and satellite TV under the FCC's regulatory blanket, and still hope that this caveat will prevent the increased fines from becoming law. Censorship proponents like Nance and Martin want to force cable providers to offer a-la-carte options to consumers, a position which could possibly derail their campaign, considering the cable industry's substantial lobbying power. In any case, the battle is sure to heat up soon.

Thanks to Dave Mandl for the heads-up.

July Indoors

Hello, Everybody--nice seeing you again.

I had to spend most of July indoors, so I've been doing a lot of reading. Here are some of the books I've read in the past month.

Carnivorous Nights: On the Trail of the Tasmanian Tiger, By Margaret Mittelbach and Michael Crewdson, artwork by Alexis Rockman. (2005, Villard Books). Margaret and Michael are a writing team, and I don't even understand how that works. I think of writing as something solitary and painful, like pulling out your own teeth with a pair of pliers, but somehow they sit down together and write the most interesting and fun books and articles about natural history stuff. While they were doing some research at the American Museum of Natural History a while back, they came across a taxidermied specimen of the extinct Tasmanian tiger and fell in love with it. (I'm not sure how that works, either, but to each his own.) They ended up traveling to Tasmania with their pothead artist friend, Alexis, and his girlfriend, and a friend of a friend, and all sorts of things happened including that they learned the verb “to quoll.” Their book about their adventures in Tasmania is extremely amusing and good-humored, just like Michael and Margaret. To celebrate the publication of Carnivorous Nights, they had a party and taxidermy competition at Pete's Candy Store in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. DJ Dorian  was one of the judges, and my armadillo handbag, Randall, won a prize. It was one of the most fun parties I've ever been to, and they said they're going to do it again when the paperback comes out.

(P.S.--The picture of me making a face with Randall Handbag is not the best picture of me ever posted online. This one is better. I can't wait to hear this edition of Chris T's “Communication Breakdown, 'cause I think Jeff is a nice guy and would look really good in a fireman's outfit.)

Moravagine, by Blaise Cendrars.(Copyright 1926, translation 1968, published in paperback 2004 by New York Review Books.) I came across this in Posman Books when I was looking for the new translation of Don Quixote. The cashier guy who usually rolls his eyes when I come up to the register with something like Happy Kitty Bunny Pony got all excited when I plunked this book down on the counter. He wanted me to come back and let him know how I liked it. I dunno. Maybe I would have liked it better in 1926, when it was written, but it kept reminding me of the scene in the first Austin Powers movie where Dr. Evil says he want “One MILLION dollars!” Ooh, Blaise Cendrars is so pervy and evil! Plus, I just couldn't get into the whole deal with Blaise Cendrars being a pen name or an alterego or whatever, and the whole artifice of his background: “What is true? What is false?” You know what? I don't much care. But maybe I just need it explained a little better. I wish DJ Rix  would read this book and tell me what he thinks of it.

The Secret Architecture of Our Nation's Captial: The Masons and the Building of Washington, D.C., by David Ovason. (2000, HarperCollins Publishers.) I do believe David Ovason had something to say when he wrote this book. What was it, I wonder? I finished this book--all 465 grueling pages, including the notes--in July, but I've actually been reading it every night for over a year. I could never manage more than about a page before I became unconscious. It is the most soporific volume I've ever read, and I recommend it only as an infallible aid to sleep. I plan to donate my copy to the WFMU station library.

Happy Kitty Bunny Pony: A Saccharine Mouthful of Super Cute, by Charles S. Anderson Design Co. with text by Michael J. Nelson (2005, Harry N. Abrams, Inc.) Did you believe me when I said I bought a book with this title? I got it to cheer myself up, and because looking at it doesn't require any thought process whatsoever. There are pictures of kitties and bunnies and ponies, and some duckies, too, though I recommend caution when purchasing books that are authored by a Co. Michael J. Nelson turns out to be one of the guys on Mystery Science Theater 3000. Sometimes he's funny, and sometimes--especially after the first 100 pages of cute pictures of kitties, bunnies, ponies, et cetera--he sounds like he's trying a little too hard. I don't exactly regret buying it, but it is the only book I've ever tried to get Sluggo to store on his bookshelves.

Meditation as Medicine, by Dharma Singh Khalsa, M.D., and Cameron Stauth. (2001, Fireside.) One good thing about getting cancer is that it can make you more receptive to trying new things. In the first part of this book, Dr. Khalsa is very careful to explain kundalini yoga and meditation practice in terms of Western Scientists-and-Experts' research into the endocrine system, glands, the vagus nerve, neurological PET scans, spatial-temporal reasoning, and so on. Obviously, this is aimed at people who are really skeptical about mudras and chakras and whatnot. All I know is that I get up every day at 5 AM and take a cold shower anyway, so I figured I might as well try the rest of Dr. Khalsa's program. I had a very dramatic reaction the first time I tried the medical meditation for the immune system, and I felt really good all day. I'm still not sure what a chakra is, but I'm actually not sure what my thymus gland is, either--that doesn't mean either of them is nonexistent. Right now a new copy of the hardcover version of this book costs less than the paperback on Amazon.

Pet Architecture Handbook, by Tokyo Institute of Technology Tsukamoto Architectural Laboratory and Atelier Bow-wow. (World Photo Press, not sure what year.) This book is not by a Co., it is by an Institute. Or a Laboratory. Or an Atelier. Sorry I don't have a picture of it. It's  a collection of photos and brief descriptions of 73 wee, tiny, eccentric buildings--most of them commercial spaces--in Tokyo, plus project proposals for 8 more itty-bitty buildings. Sluggo gave me this book to read and, while it is cute and interesting, it puts me to sleep almost as fast as the book about the Masons and Washington, D.C.

Here is a book I read a long time ago, and talked about on my old book club show on WFMU: The Secret Life of the Lonely Doll. The author, Jean Nathan, is going to be at the Bryant Park reading room this Wednesday, August 10, at 12:30. I wish I could take my copy of the book for her to sign, but I'm still spending all my time indoors. I thought you might want to check it out, though. It's a really good book, and I think the paperback's just come out.

So that's the full report on my month of reading. Thanks for reading my blog entry, and may God bless.
-Bronwyn C.

M. C. Escher would have shopped there...

The curious new Viktor & Rolf boutique in Milan has fashion lovers hitting the ceiling. The Dutch fashion duo created it alongside architect Siebe Tettero and designer Sherrie Zwail. Shop to your hearts content... but bring some Dramamine. The clothes are the only things in the store that are not upside down - even the store's facade, front door and fitting rooms are inverted. Neck braces and LSD not included (and if you're wheelchair-bound, just stay home... please). You can read about it here, here and here. For a slideshow of the store, go to Viktor & Rolf's web site (after getting through all the Flash stuff, click on 'boutique.')