AR: The Velvet Underground & Nico

The Velvet Underground - The Velvet Underground & Nico (1967)

• Good timing with the recent John Cale review - an excellent example of the experimental mindset infecting rock n' roll and birthing a proto-alt rock classic. This is a seminal art-rock album, brilliant along a variety of generic axes, and an absolute thrill to hear even after a bajillion listens. Kinda provokes the track-by-track account...
• "Sunday Morning" is a sunshine pop-rock classic with just enough off about it to render it excellent. A personal fave, and one I quote often.
• "I'm Waiting For the Man" = slacker yowled garage rock - thanks Lou Reed - about waiting for a heroin fix. The dirty drive combined with the vaguely homosexual yearn is superb.
• "Femme Fatale." Ah, Nico. Ali W infected this one quote a bit for me with her spot on Nico impersonation, and yes, it's true, Nico couldn't really sing. Again, the slightly off-key vocals, the barely distorted vocals - these details kill. The monotone backing vocals slay!
• "Venus in Furs" is a trance-inducing, Doors-esque drone number about BDSM. Cellos included. Genius.
• Back to the garage and a rough-run freak-out guitar solo for "Run Run Run." The driving rhythm is downright meditative.
• Nico's back for the epic "All Tomorrow's Parties." Matter of fact grandeur. Sprawl and pounding piano and the drone of the after-hours, the monotone delivery resonates well.
• And the epic and dynamic are not OVER yet - "Heroin," via simplistic, spare guitar and cello, delivers an accurate rendition of vein-dripping opiates. Very broad and dramatic, this one's a trip.
• "There She Goes Again" is the snide-delivered grandfather of the La's "There She goes." Good, but a bit of filler, methinks.
• "I'll Be Your Mirror" puts Nico back up to deliver that bad-vocaled sappy sentiment. Cute love song of devotion; the fact that something this bright and eyelash-flashing is on the same disc as "Heroin" in incredible and dizzying.
• "The Black Angel's Death Song" lets the drone get to be a bit too much - it's one of two songs on here that the drone effect kills.
• The second one being "European Son," a noise-rock prototype which is too chaotic for its own good. Not a great closer at all.
• The ending drags an otherwise magnificent album down. Perhaps appropriate that a couple of experiments did not entirely work, of course. This one is a personal favorite despite its flaws - its ragged edges give the tracks undeniable soul, and teach of a time where fractured noise and art were well on the same side of the fight. Nowhere near perfect, but a must for anyone who remotely likes rock. This album is, in short, filthy great, and resonates well with my art-dirty heart.

Status: Recommended

Nyet's Fave: "I'm Waiting For the Man"

This is Not a Fun Blog, Vol. 2: The F & V List

"Spinach (I could be convinced to try)." Wait... what? I wrote that?

Beck picked up on this big time the other day, and here we are knee-deep in Spinach Weekend 2010. This is a big step for us; the last time Beck put spinach in my food, it was the centerpiece of a bold-faced lie. She had cooked lasagna, and I had requested "just cheese" or somesuch, only what I got was laced with leafy green-ness. When I asked, "what's that?," I got "basil" as an answer from Ye Olde Ferrous Fiste. Only it turned out I was not a complete moron (or "tastetard," as Ali would undoubtedly have put it), and I could tell that wasn't basil. Such a breech of trust, such a sly move! Beck vowed never to do such a thing to me again, but to this day I wonder - why does this cheese taste funny? And why does my jello not jiggle properly? Is there spinach in there? I fear the devil's leaf!

Until now, of course, when I'm trying to be open-minded and eat new things. I've always prided myself, despite my narrow culinary upbringing, on being willing to try anything at least once, and it seems now that I'm willing to try, try again. The [blank] nutritionist who helped me not at all the other day criticized my diet for not having enough fruits and vegetables, and while this strictly speaking is not true (I eat broccoli and other veggies regularly, and I eat e.g. strawberries, pineapples and apples with the best of them) AND it strictly speaking does not really serve as its own justification as a recommendation (i.e., if I get my vitamins / minerals / fibers elsewhere, then why is it so important to eat fruits? There may be an answer, but "because fruits are good for you" is not it), I thought, sure, I could try a wider variety of fruits and veggies, and besides, maybe there's something out there that I'm just plain missing. So to set out on learning more about fruits and veggies I might like, I compiled a list of F & V that I know I like, know I hate, and am unsure about. The latter category has since been subdivided into "unsure" and "meh" about, but the general idea is the same. Anyways, I e-mailed it to my personal dietician Beck, and she nearly exploded at the chance to forcefeed me spinach of several varieties. And I have to admit, prepared properly, it seems to have jumped from the DO-NOT-WANT taxon to the meh taxon. Which I think is all Beck was hoping for. Actually, you can read all about her delight at her blog, though you'll note her fiendish past is duly censored.

So yeah, good eating times - regarding spinach in particular, we had garlic-drenched spinach the other night and are trying creamed spinach tonight. But I'm getting into all kinds of different things, and it's good to keep track. This should, ftr, shock you. Here's the list, and for your purposes, let me know if there's something I've neglected, something I just have to try in a certain style, or if you feel the need to rush to the defense of onions or something, go right ahead. In the meantime, I'll continue to eat all kinds of craziness and repeatedly stun myself. Check back for updates. Too exciting. Who is this Nyet guy?

Nyet's Official Fruit & Veggie List, 7.3.2010

Approved Fruits:

Apples, Apricots, Cherries, Dates, Figs, Grapes, Kiwi, Lemons, Limes, Mangoes, Nectarines, Pineapple, Plantains, Plums, Strawberries

Meh Fruits:

Blackberries, Blueberries, Cantaloupe, Honeydew, Peaches

Jury Still Out Fruits:

Acai, Avocado (dubious), Berries (Assorted - Currant, Gooseberry, Honeysuckle, Huckleberry, Loganberry, Mulberry, Salmonberry, Wolfberry), Clementines, Coconut, Cranberry, Grapefruit, Guava, Kumquat, Mandarins, Papaya, Passion Fruit, Pomegranate, Raspberries, Rhubarb, Tangerines

Disapproved Fruits:

Bananas (allergy), Oranges (allergy), Pears, Watermelon (allergy)

Approved Veggies:

Asparagus, Broccoli, Broccolini, Carrots, Cauliflower, Corn, Garlic, Green Beans, Jicama, Peas, Potato, Squash, Sweet Potato

Meh Veggies:

Spinach

Jury Still Out Veggies:

Beets, Black-Eyed Peas (dubious), Bok Choy, Chick Pea, Chicory, Parsnip, Radish, Rutabaga, Soybean

Disapproved Veggies:

Broccoli Rabe, Brussels Sprout, Cabbage, Celery, Collard Greens, Kale, Leek, Lettuce, Lima Bean (I almost need a separate list of hatred for this one), Okra, Onion, Peppers (Bell & Otherwise), Tomato, Zucchini

Houseguestapalooza MMX (Part I, it seems)

This may be premature, as Houseguestapalooza MMX is not technically over yet. The iPFam is still in Californ-aye-ay and will be swinging back through Sunny Azz in the next few days. Still, it was a solid couple weeks of much fun, so might as well get the accounting in while the accounting's good.

I'll go backwards because, well, why not. Today did not involve HGaPaMMX, but I didn't have to use my AK. I read three articles and an entire an entire book (granted, it was only 160 pages or so, and I didn't *write* it, as Beck demanded) this morning, hanging around the house so as not to give the S/W/F too long of a day. Took the D-O-Gs for a W-A-L-K, then booked it to school at about 11 for a quick weights workout (and weighed a crisp, little-sweat-loss 171 afterwards - not bad given the guests and dining outs of late). Ran a brief honors discussion section for the undergrad bio course, then finished up the grading for the midterms*. Meeting w/ Jason, meeting with Manfred, a more or less figured out thesis project (for which I still need to write a prospectus, but still, DAMN!), and a semi-interesting class on medical student ethics education, and it was a day. Drove home, warmed up some leftover pizza, and am currently blogging to the erratic spastic blasts of Ornette Coleman and what he claimed will have been the shape of jazz that came. Or something.

* - In case you're not the facebooking type, I had a crushing pile of 90+ essay midterms as part of my spring break joy. They were horrendous (average grade = a generous 73). Painful, though I did learn the invaluable lesson that "disjustice" is a verb.

Sunday was also productive, as I woke up early and got a good deal of reading / writing done that I could not catch up with while the peeps were in town. Decided I was a glutton for punishment and went to do a track workout at Rhodes *before* pickup - I got in a mile, some buildup sprints, some straightaway sprints, and tried to run a 400 before my hamstring said no. Oh, and I timed myself on 40 yard dashes, and could do no better than a five flat. Sadness. I did get myself good and tired, which was the intention, and then played pickup starting off more tired than everyone out there. Good deal - made a silly lay out grab over/around somebody at one point, met a dude named Kyle from Ohio who looks to have club potential, and hit Kaysie for some scores... on her boyfriend. Yikes. Came home to the industriously awesome Beck, who had mowed the yard after a day of work. She is, indeed, awesome. We ate leftover Chinese and watched an Eddie Izzard DVD which was so funny that I had to pause it so I wouldn't asphyxiate from laughter. Good times.

I left very early Saturday AM to head to Sprawl SLUG IV. My parents arrived on their way out of town just in time to catch a layout Nyet goal - WAHOO. We (the light team) won 12-6, 13-11, another free lunch for the good guys. Said adios to my parents - they were headed to Fort Stockton and got there quite late thanks to the two hour time change. I came home and powered through grading while watching NCAA basketball. Beck came home and, after some reading, took a nap. As you may have guessed we picked up Chinese food for the evening and made it all the way to the first skit of SNL, in which Sigourney Weaver looked a whole lot like the PGOAT. Woah!

Friday AM, my dad and I headed to the golf curse to demonstrate how not to hit golf shots. Or rather, my dad demonstrated how not to hit golf shots; I just demonstrated how to not hit golf shots (the distinction is subtle). We came back to the homestead to pick up my mom and head over to SMOCA, where we saw a couple of nice exhibits: Chuck Close prints and Rewind Remix Replay: Design, Music & Everyday Experience. Very cool trip to the museum, and we followed it up with some nachos / a margarita at Los Olivos next door. Good times, only to be outdone by the GREAT times we had at the Biltmore movie that night - we watched Ferris Bueller's Day Off over Slice of Sicily Pizza and followed that up with some off-the-hook MoJo. Very fun day to end my parents' stay in Phoenix.

Alright, I am running out of gas here, and the next days involve some pic posting, so I'll hold off until my energy comes back. Trust that they'll be great. In the meantime, NAP. And yeah, this has had surprisingly little houseguest content given the post title. My bad.

Snow P.I.M.P.

Happy holidays to the Formerly Grafton branch of the Nyetverse: Sarah, Christophe, Malcolm, Ben, Ali, Bella and Heidi! Given the snow in that picture, I think it might be about time to start talking about our next vacation reunion?

Neon Champ

Last Friday, Beck trekked up to Rochester for the annual Family Reunion. We made an executive decision to send one representative this year and leave the other at home for dog-caring duties. Beck won the rosham. So i was home alone, set for a weekend of dog-sitting and tutoring.

And then a student canceled on Saturday, and then another, leaving me with an open Saturday afternoon. And I had gotten an e-mail the previous week which i had pretty much opened and immediately disregarded because the event it referenced was on a work day. But i remembered it upon the second cancellation: there was a goofy Ultimate tournament down in Tucson, a mere two hours away! And so I calculated that if I ran home, walked the pups, got my stuff together and took off, I would get there just in time. And with two hours transit, maybe five hours of playing, and two hours back, the dogs would be alone for nine hours, which is pretty much what they did all the time up in Boston. So off I went.

Ahem, and a big back up, for two reasons. One, I hadn't run in about two weeks, hadn't played Ultimate, and had really only done anything vaguely athletic while tossing the disc in the park with Ben and Ali. So i was going to be out of shape for this bad boy. But I've played entire tournaments while out of shape, not just one day hat deals like this, and survived just fine. So BRING IT!!! The second problem is little more heinous: while playing for Polaroid, we had a pretty awesome team saying which simultaneously reveals the nature of Ultimate and what a bunch of jerks we could be. The saying: "Ultimate Frisbee: Love the Game, Hate the People." Yeah, we sucked. But, hey: it's a great game. And the hippie-ish, non-athlete, nerdcore vibe of it drags it down at times (just like the non-hippie, athletic, non-nerd competitive asshole vibe can drag it down). This tournament screamed more people than game; for one thing, it was starting at 4 and running until 9 on a field without lights... eh? And there was much more mention of "kegs" and "boat races" and the like than, say, what version of rules they were using, what format the tournament would be in, how many people would be there. So to extend a weirdly referenced metaphor from the previous post, this was gonna be way more Grateful Dead concert than church or baseball or Ultimate.

So it goes. The opportunities to play Ultimate in this area are few and far between, so i decided to bite the bullet and go, just put on my happy face. I've played goofball tournaments like this before that have been an absolute blast; it all depends on the people who end up on your team and how well you can strike a balance between good play and lunacy. So i jumped in the car and listened to some schwank tunes down to Tucson, getting there just in time to be placed on a team and get ready to go.

Only it turns out that fewer people showed up than the tourney organizers anticipated. So what was supposed to be a 6 team, 10 players per team tournament turned into a 6 team, 6 players per team tourney. And we played fives! FTR, I would have shifted gears and gone four teams, 9 players each and played sevens, but I was not in charge. So we were playing with one sub, and we were playing with only five on a relatively normal sized field. More running plus fewer subs. If you're smart, you can see where this is going.

My team consisted of Jack, Jorge, Lilly, Sam, Ana and me. Ana was just learning how to play, but otherwise we had a pretty experienced team (these things are called "hat" tournaments b/c they mix your names in a hat to pick teams, but they do make people rank themselves in an effort to balance the teams). We started play at 4, and it was hot hot hot. Not 114, but still, 95+. Ran ourselves a bit ragged and won game one, 11-6. Things cooled down for game two, and we eeked out a tight win, 10-8. By then it was 7, though... and quite dark.

Bust out the glow-in-the-dark apparel! Every player got four gitd rings to place on their body, and the standard issue Ultimate discs were replaced with slightly heavier discs with a light source affixed to the bottom. And each team got different colored glo-rings. Somewhat ludicrous, but quite cool, too. We were neon orange (nice and bright) and played our third game of the day against a team wearing neon blue (not so good against the duck light). One of the teams wore neon green rings and looked pretty much straight up Tron.

SO, playing in the dark is quite tough. As you can imagine, people drop passes a lot more frequently, and it's difficult to gauge depth perception with any reliability. So the games were pretty sloppy, but we pressed on. I actually made several (5+) layout catches in the dark, a weird experience for sure. Anyways, after a few points of adjustment and figuring out how to deal with the weird conditions, we ran away with game three. The easy highlight was when a huck went up and the light source on the bottom went out. 'Twas like a saucer vanishing into the night.

So 3-0 on the day got us a ticket to the finals and a bit more no-subs, lotsa running play. And that point everyone else stopped just to heckle and watch the finals, though it's hard to heckle what you can't see - I had a rather nutzoid trailing edge lay out hammer grab in the game, but it happened at the other side of the field so pretty much no one saw it. The people on the sideline got progressively drunker as the game went on, and all the usual stupid Ultimate hippie side of things - "Play a no pants point!," etc. - went on in Spades. I, frankly, reserve my right to keep my pants on. That's what makes me American (the right, not the pants).

So we won, big time. Huzzah. I won a tournament, something I can remember happening in... let's see, sectionals '00, regionals '02, random tourney with Polaroid, random good cause tourney... and that's about it. So this was the fifth. So apparently this is a rare event, or I suck. Hmmm...

Anyways, a fun tournament, but it prompted a ton of questions. One - I knew nobody there. A couple of guys made the trek down from Phoenix as well, but they aren't really guys I know all that well. So there were two people I recognized, and a ton I didn't. On the one hand, it's cool that anyone can jump in and have a good time with a bunch of people that they don't know - I met a couple of the U of A players and some other folks who were reasonably cool. On the other hand... weird to be in such a big mix and feel entirely a stranger. I also had to drive home, making me much less inclined to partake of the beer-based funniness. So there's that. I guess the second question is, then, why do that? For every part that is fun - playing well, hanging out with new folks - there's a long drive, potential for injury, the guaranteed soreness afterwards, the recurring "why do I do this again?" questions...

Oh, and I should have mentioned the soreness a little more prominently. Here we are, six days later, and i STILL have sore hamstrings. Turns out that sprinting for five hours is not good if you haven't even jogged in a couple of weeks. Dumb, dumb me. On the plus side, ankle held up quite nicely.

Rewinding, after the day wrapped up and we took team pictures and such, I booked it for home and dogs. I intelligently grabbed some Wendy's Fries on the way out of town, a delicacy I don't partake of all that often but one which was highly called for in this case of salt deprivation. And they hit the spot - man, best fries ever. I highly recommend running for five hours just so you can taste fries afterwards. It may be worth a week of awkward walking.

Another note - the key to late night driving is Erasure, specifically the compilation "Pop!." I guarantee that it is impossible to fall asleep with that perfection of 80s synth pop resounding in your ears. Who? You. You need love like that.

So overall I would say the experience was a good one. At this exact second in time, I'd say I'm unlikely to go back next year - playing in the dark is kinda dumb and dangerous, even if fun, and the peripheral shenanigans were pretty annoying. Then again, I say that now, and I 'm sure next summer I'll be itching to get in any playing I can. So, per usual, we shall see. But you read it here from a glow in the dark champ - it's fun, but it ain't that awesome. And ow.

Three-Hundred... Sixty Five Degrees! Bruning Down the Nyet!

Sheebus McSheebus!!! Last night as I pulled into the complex at 7:15, I thought things felt unnaturally oven-like. And they were: it was still 111. Um, thanks Sunny, Azz, but no thanks; I will spend my evening indoors, thankyouverymuch.

Primary purpose: I'm gonna get back on the blogging horse here. Not that anything has happened lately, or that anything didn't happen since Ali and Ben left us with nothing save memories and shoes; just that I think the world needs a Ballad, and vice versa. Actually, at least four things have happened / are happening in the past couple of weeks, and I will record them shortly on this fine first day of the month of Majestic.

In the meantime, here are two reviews:

Fortress of Solitude

The Dark Knight

And now on to new posts to cover other things.

Dancing Days Were Here Again

Just finished a rather spectacular weekend with superfriends Ben & Ali, aka The GrinGoat. Highlights abounded, but I'm lacking writing energy at this exact moment so I may just throw down some kind of outline-ish dealio. Let's see...

The Invention of Games: After this spring's hit "Cat in a Boat" swept the nation, we figured that we shouldn't deprive America of any more of our gaming brain spawn. So first, Ben invented the awesome "Catch a Bubble in the Hot Tub" game, something that sounds stupendously dumb but is monstrously entertaining. If you want a copy of the rules, please send a SASE to Ben's new apartment.

We also expanded our game marketing base beyond the "while sitting in a car" and "while sitting in a hot tub" platforms to include a new exciting area, "while sitting in front of a computer." Perhaps we should name our company Wile E. Sitting. Perhaps not. Anyhoo, the new computer game we've designed is called "Marathon Simulator." So far the only concrete feature we're prepared to release the public is that you will tap the A button for each step. This game will also be featured as part of a "historical gaming series," meaning that you will get to play the game in different formats. For example, one version will utilize the Doom engine and be a first-person runner; another version will be a 2-D side scroller - maybe you will pick up a power bar you see on the ground?; perhaps the final version will be a text adventure:

*************************************************************************************
"You see a long road in front of you and are surrounded by people in small shorts. What do you want to do?"
?> Take a stride.

"You move up three feet. You see a long road in front of you and are surrounded by people in small shorts. What do you want to do?"
?> Take a stride.

"You move up three feet. You see a long road in front of you and are surrounded by people in small shorts. What do you want to do?"
?> Take the subway.
*************************************************************************************

So clearly, we were up to our very best idea-having this weekend.

In a more straight-forward sorta account, on Friday I picked up the dynamic duo at the airport. We hit up Oregano's for lunch, the first of far too many delicious meals on the weekend. Came back to the apartment and said hey to the pups, then successfully hung out poolside despite our New England friends' collective paleness. Beck surprised us by coming home early, and we cruised down to Old Scottsdale to eat at Los Olivos - SUPER YUMMY, por supuesto. Turns out that Ali used to frequent the O.S. in the days of her wayward youth, so we hit up a seriously good little establishment called "The Sugar Bowl." After getting heckled re: the correct pronunciation of "Sundae" and Ben's ordering of a single scoop of ice cream, we enjoyed stupidly delicious treats. Photographic evidence of Gringoat's Phoenician presence:

For the record: the "from the tabletop" camera angle, in a pink booth with fluorescent lighting, always makes for the best shot.

So we stuffed ourselves silly and headed home. Beck had to work on Saturday - BOOOOOO - so GG and I spent the morning chilling, eating honey nut cheerios, watching all kinds of Youtube video crack AND, most importantly, checking in on what the kids watch these days. Yep, Saturday morning with sweet cereal and cartoons. We saw a remake of Tom & Jerry, some Strawberry Shortcake, a very bad indeed George of the Jungle and an off the charts terrible live action show about a girl named Cake and her friend Miracle who was getting to the age where she is starting to smell when she sweats. Yeah... so after quite enough of that, we lounged poolside for a bit and then headed to Chompie's for lunch. The weather took a bizarro turn that day - cloud cover all morning - so we headed to play some frisbee at the local park. At 2 in the afternoon! In Phoenix! In July! WHAAAA??? Nuts, and a lot of fun - my ankle is slowly getting there, and despite not having thrown a disc since the beach in SC, Ben and Ali were on their game.

Beck and I took a brief detour to go fruitlessly house-hunting that afternoon - lots of places in the partially remodeled state, don't get me started - and came back to grab our pals and head out for Italian. We collectively offended the entire restaurant, and their dirty looks were so loud that they overpowered the lounge singer covering 50 ways to leave you lover. Outstanding! Good food, though, and after a stop by The Coffee Bean (TM), we came home to kick it in the hot-tub and invent a bubble game. Somewhere in there, Ben and Beck learned about the Velvet Underground.

We attacked our Sunday with the appropriate level of lassitude - cooked a big waffle and eggs and fruit salad breakfast, then combined our four brains into one large brain to take on the NYT crossword. If you were wondering - and I know you are - "skirr" means "go rapidly" and "spoor" is animal evidence used for tracking. Those killed us; otherwise, we smacked the puzzle around quite a bit. Somewhere in there we got coordinated enough to head out for a Jamba-Juice knock-off and then went to see the new Batman movie (along with the rest of America). Review pending, but we all enjoyed it, even if we're not quite ready to hand out any posthumous Oscars.

Headed over to central-ish Phoenix for New Mexico-style Mexican dinner at a joint called Richardson's, featuring some of the best roasted garlic / cheese / salsa platters you will ever experience. Great food, and we had plenty to take home for lunch the next day. Hung out there quite a while and got home just in time to collapse; took Ali and Ben back to the aeropuerto on Monday, and our quick, excellent weekend came to a close.

So yes, great times, and we definitely owe them a New England visit soon. Thanks so much, Ben and Ali! And Ben, we are not a shoe depository. That is all.

Disparate Topics

1: Another year, another loss for the NL. Snap.

Quick comment on something that probably went entirely unseen, or at least entirely uncommented upon: in the bottom of the 11th. Ian Kinsler hit a single and tried to steal second, but was thrown out. Kinda. He looked safe anyways, but the replay showed that Tejada did not even tag him - pulled the ol' "slap tag" routine and got the call. Now, this being America and the land of honesty and fair play and equal opportunity and aren't sports grand and don't they teach us all kinds of good-heareted lessons and everything else, Tejada immediately went to the umpire and explained, "No sir, I in fact missed the tag, and Mr. Kinsler should be declared safe." So they let Kinsler stay at second, and he scored two batters later when J.D. Drew singled up the middle. So the game ended in the 11th.

Oddly, though, all of the papers say it went until the 15th this morning. Maybe I mis-saw something.

So Tejada clearly knows he missed that tag, but he got away with it, and no one blinked an eye. That's clearly within the realm of "gamesmanship," but why? Looks like Tejada just used deceit to gain a competitive advantage. So while it falls under gamesmanship, it also falls under "win at all costs." Which *demands* the question: is anyone thinking of the children?

2: So beck and I, lacking inspiration and high brow prejudices, have watched a few episodes of Last Comic Standing. And there's this duo called "God's Pottery." Here's a clip that gives pretty much the whole shtick:

So it's pretty much open season mocking of the entire "Chirstian Acoustic Youth Group" movement. Which is interesting on the one hand because it's a group mocking Christianity on primetime network television - these guys are hardly pulling David Cross atheistic critiques of religion here, but still, not exactly family-friendly to a significant percentage of the country's population. But the other hand is that it's just a very limited shtick - these guys pull it off well, but it's one joke over and over. And over, but that is what's truly surreal about it - on this purported reality show, they keep up the act the entire time! Ridiculous, and made for some bizarre situations, like when they were in a "Yo Mama" joke telling contest and just kept complimenting their opponent's mother. Not to mention that they theoretically acted in this manner off-camera, too, just in normal living situations with the other contestants. Nice - they almost get points for me for some quality theater of the absurd stuff, but fall just a hair short because it's just frankly not quite absurd enough. Anyways, they were eliminated last week essentially because their one joke finally ran out of steam, and I'm pretty happy, because should I choose to waste more time with this show, I'd prefer it not to be at the hands of a one-off act.

(Train of thought to be continued in a moment - but in the meantime, speaking of "theater of the absurd," looking into the music of The Fortress of Solitude led me to an avant-garde group from the 70s-present called The Residents. They're famous - you may recognize them from their iconic eyeball masks - and I recognize that I am way off the cool path here - but check out this video. And be warned: WEIRD. Divinely so. I think I'm in love).

Getting back to the "acoustic comics" theme - thanks to an afternoon spent in Rochester with Meghan and Greg and an iPod hooked up to a TV, you can't think of "acoustic comedy duo" and no give props to these guys. In fact, I've probably posted this before, but here it is again:

"Be more constructive with your feedback." Indeed. Those dudes are much funnier / more talented / more musical, etc., than God's Pottery imho. And more versatile (if by "versatile" you mean, "can play funny acoustic guitar songs from other genres").

So compare and contrast with this guy, a seventeen year old acoustic guitar / musical comedian from Boston. Big props: witty lyrics, wordplay, and definite presence. Un-props: if you watch a bunch of his videos, you'll start to see a pattern of immature mugging and a consistent reliance on the same kind of jokes. And some pretty poor-taste jokes.

Oh, and if weren't for all the lewd references and disgusting, sophomoric imagery, I would totally dedicate this to Zil because the topic here is, loosely, high school math. Consider the preceding sentence a warning on two fronts (nerdy and illicit content). Btw, if you're looking for the "made soda come out of my nose line," it's the one that starts off "squaring numbers are (sic) just like women..."

In completely unrelated news: t-minus two until Ben and Ali!!! HUZZAH.

Nyet Says Relax

Ali, it will be okay! We're back! Proof: it's 115 degrees outside at this very instant! I just caught a bunny with his belly pressed as flush to the cooler ground as possible, trying to grasp a swath of shade. Photographic proof:

We were in the S'th attending weddings and chilling at my grandparents home in Whispering Pines. Posts covering those delicious events forthcoming. We didn't have entirely reliable internet service the entire time, nor did I really have the necessary time to give a bona fide Ballad verse here, so I didn't want to rush the bub. But trust, within the next day or so, you'll get accounts, remembrances, commentary, oh the commentary. Wahoo!

In the meantime, feel sorry for the couple who crossed the country to hang out in a 103 degree and ridiculously humid heatwave, only to return to their desert home to endure a dry hundred teens heatwave. Sigh.

In other news, man, our political leadership is lousy. Yeah!!! Pop Song 89!!!

Next Stop: Ashland

Congrats go out to Alexandra, "Cat in a Boat" career statistics leader and employed professional veterinarian type in the fine town of Ashland, MA. Way to go Ali!!!

As her first act as vet extraordinaire, she would like to remind everyone of the etymological roots of the phrase "shoo in." (Note: not "shoe in").

And now, some links:

This piece of work is extraordinary. I especially like the Bob Dylan moves he uses to start off. Seriously, what the hell is up with local news journalism? Are we trying to be stupid? "Here, i found one example of something; that means ALL people must be doing it!" Not that the girl in this segment deserves sympathy, but man, the whole thing is more interesting for the coverage, methinks.

Fun perfect pitch game. I cheat and use the star spangled banner (which starts off G-E-C - thanks Jimi!) as a reference.

Where you from? Speakin' wise?
Syncing metronomes.
Unwritten rules of baseball. Oops.
An interesting if a little off base argument that questions the ubiquity of Darwinian mechanisms.
Remember Kerry Wood's gem references a couple of weeks ago?
Fantastic blog of Crossword-inspired sketches. If you like the NYT Xword puzzle, you gotta check it.
Cool album covers, maybe.

My dad needs to have this as his homepage. For his puns.

Aaron thought I was kidding.
The entire catalogue of ACME products. Genius.
And some funny comparisons in the biking v. driving wars.

Syzygy b'twixt Zeus, Ares

Beck and I watched the pretty fluffy but highly entertaining "Word Play" the other night. No review necessary - it's a behind the scene look at how the New York Times Crossword gets created / edited and a mini-documentary of some SERIOUS word-nerds who participate every year in the NYT Xword Puzzle Championship. I mean, yes, there are several levels of dork, and I firmly occupy floor 173, but there is a certain nerd-transcendence achieved when a film shows two crossworders talking about individual words and clues between rounds. Egad. Anyways, good flick, recommend it, if for no other reason because you get to see Jon Stewart talking smack to Shortz and Bill Clinton reveal what he really did with his time in the White House.

Being slaves to all things we see on the magic box in our living room, Beck and I have gotten into crosswords over the past couple of days. In an extraordinarily dangerous trend, we stayed up until 11:45 last night (after watching a reasonably good ep of Lost) trying to cram in the last words to Thursday's puzzle. And egad, man, it turns out you can put MULTIPLE LETTERS in single blanks. This would have been a great thing to know at the start; without it, we kept trying to make "out in the boonies" be the "Styx." What the hey. So now, I too join the masses demanding Will Shortz's head on a stick. I draw the line at obsessing over Sunday morning radio shows, though.

Some news from the Ballad: April broke the record for posts in a month with 36! That brings us to more than 400 posts combined between here and the old blog (on the site which will be getting some new material in the next few days). And since Ben can't read more than two lines of text, the current trend for multiple posts in a day might even continue. And as soon as a couple of people (cough, cough, Aaron, mike NTPB) get their acts together, you'll even get some interesting posts. If you know either of them, harass them over e-mail!

Speaking of the Grin - I left out a nice anecdote from the vacay. When we were lost in the woods, I kept bumping into palm fronds that were overhanging the trail. At some pause in the conversation, I coldly stated, "You know, I've had just about enough of these friggin' fronds!" So Ben picked up a palm frond and says, "oh yeah, buddy, what are you gonna do?" and playfully swung the frond at me. Only the front was full of sand, so I got showered. Ben was highly apologetic. Hilarious. Christophe decided that this was vengeance from some sort of Frond god (who apparently has strong ties to the "Wander after lighthouses" god). I agreed, and pledged never to make fun of fronds again. But the more I think about it, the more I realize that the Grin must be a disciple of Fronds. So if you're ever hiking with that guy, man, do not taunt the fronds. He will sand your ass!

And here are two great pics that Christophe snapped, the first of a sunset on the first evening and the second of the dolphin in the bay that I mentioned. Enjoy:

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Now playing: The New Pornographers - The End Of Medicine

Lost III: Hunting Island State Park

On Tuesday of the Best Vacation All I Ever Wanted Ever, we suntan lotioned up and headed over for a walk around Hunting Island State Park just two miles up the road. "Turn left" the lady said as Ben turned right. We made a u-turn and arrived in good time.

After making our four dollars per person parking payment, we "walked on down the pier. And we came to a door." No, not really, no doors on the pier. There were some lovely marshes along the beach, and we saw several dolphins - or at least their dorsal fins - swimming about the little bay. Here's a collective of pics from the pier:

So we have some empirical evidence there that so long as our path goes 200 yards out to the end of a pier and then 200 yards back to the shore, we can find our way. Yay! Go highly educated folks! Things would not be so simple in the future. We waited outside the park station for Ben to complete his business calls. Got some good shots of CHristophe and Malcolm while we waited - note especially the shot of Christophe taken from atop Malcolm's dome, aka the Mal-cam:

After Ben closed his call with "Sell, bee-otch, sell!!!!", we headed out on what was supposed to be a quick hike along the park's trails. With the emphasis on "quick," many of us did not even bother bringing shoes but opted for tevas (pronounced "teh-vas") instead. Big mistake, as it turns out our lust for lighthouses would be our undoing. And by "our," I mean "Beck's."

Things started out simply enough - we just trounced through the jungled woods along the path. We were eaten by bugs every time we stopped, so we lathered up with OFF lotion and trod fast. It was Apocalypse Now jungly with all kinds of greenery and palm fronds. Check it:

You'll notice in the last pic that the ladies + Malcolm are flying ahead of us. They had some kind of hot date at a lighthouse to get to, it seems. The menfolk lolligagged along at a comfortable pace. I specifically remember talking about podcasts and talk radio as we crossed this bridge:

And we saw a butterfly:

It was about this time that we ran into the beach. Given the choice of turning around and heading back to the cars or turning left and heading toward a lighthouse, we turned... left. Sigh. We should have noted the gloomy sky and headed home, but we were not so smart:

So we walked, and walked, and walked. Got lost, and got a lot of entirely unhelpful information from locals AND THE PARK RANGERS, who tried to send us halfway to the moon or something with their bizarro directions. SO a big BOO-URNS directed towards (some) of the Hunting Island Park Rangers; hella lame you were! On the other hand, our lost-getting provided some fantastic photo opportunities:

That middle one is an absolute classic, and check out Malcolm's expression in the third. Most excellent. Somewhere in here we were passed on the trail by a mysterious race of woodspeople, I call them ewoks. Note the authentic, blurry bigfoot style of this photo I snapped over my shoulder:

Truly scary to an encounter an entirely new species in the wilderness. Anyways, we at some point - again, no thanks to the misleading park ranger in the truck - made it back to our cars, six miles of hiking done and lighthouse unseen. So we drove over to the lighthouse - only we didn't actually visit it, we instead buzzed the tower. WHAT??!? Oh, and guess what, it looked like a lighthouse. Tres exciting. After our long, terrifying adventure, we drove to Sonicamerica and got slushes and ice creams and shakes. What a great way to undo a day of exercising, eh?

So that concludes the recalling of the SC vacation; hope you enjoyed. BBASCM, please let me know if I've left anything out. Until next time, word, and beware of Ewoks in the Gullah-land.

America's Newest Game!!!

Cat in a Boat!!!

(Brought to you by the makers of "Hey Cow!")

Object:

Identify as many cats in boats as one can in one's lifetime.

Scoring:

A player receives one (1) point for correctly identifying a cat in a boat.

Rules:

1. All players must be driving / riding in a car.
2. The procedure for identifying a cat in a boat is as follows:

1. See a cat in a boat.
2. Point at the cat in the boat.
3. Shout "Cat in a boat!"

And that's the way you do it.

3. If a player does not follow the preceding procedure, they do not receive credit for spotting a cat in a boat. Ex.: if a player shouts, "Frog in a boat!!" or "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof!," they receive no points.
4. If a player misidentifies something as a cat in a boat that is clearly not a cat in a boat, there is no penalty; however, other players in the car should immediately notify the offending player, e.g., "That is not a cat in a boat" or "That is actually a bird in a boat" or "That is not a cat, nor is that a boat."
5. If a player does follow the preceding procedure and the other players agree that the object of pointing is indeed a cat in a boat, that player, as noted above, receives one (1) point.
6. If players cannot agree on the identity of the object of pointing, the car should be stopped and a photograph taken of said object. The photograph will then be used in conjunction with either the internet or Sibley's Guide to North American Cats and/or Nautical Vessels to determine true identity.
6. Only the first player to identify a given cat in a boat may receive a point for that cat in a boat. I.e., no points for echoing someone else's "Cat in a Boat!" shout. (See multi-car exception, rule 10).
7. A cat in a boat may only be identified once for points within a seven day period. If a player re-identifies a cat in a boat, other players should shout "Same cat in a boat!" as a correction. A cat in a boat is considered the "same cat in a boat" if it is the same cat in the same boat.
8. Repeatedly shouting "cat in boat!" and pointing randomly in an effort to "cover one's bases" is considered poor sportsmanship.
9. Puns or allusions involving "cats" or "boat" are strongly encouraged. E.g., ""I'm tired of these (bleeper-bleeping) cats on this (bleeper-bleeping) boat," "I sat in a moat!" or "It's my cat in a boat!" (sung like Justin Timberlake).
10. In the multi-car format, if a player in the front car identifies the cat in a boat before a player in the trailing car, if a player in the second car identifies said cat in a boat within a reasonable timeframe, both players will receive points.
11. Have fun!

Current Score:

Ali 1, Sarah 1, Ben-Beck-Nyet-Christophe-Malcolm 0.

Byoofert Excursion

We got a hankering for ice cream at one point and traipsed our way into lovely Beaufort. Pretty typical tourist town, and the main little strip was not even picturesque enough to warrant, um, pictures. The ice cream that we grabbed was not all that, either. Boo-urns. But they did have a nice little boardwalk where Ali and I chilled while the rest of our nerdy companions (minus Beck, who took advantage of her schedule-less vacation and read, napped, chilled at the beach-house) took in a Civil War museum of some kind. Ali and I shared stories of life's directions - she sounds pretty ready to be done with her internship but glad for the experience, and I'm pretty psyched about being done with explaining algebra every day. Good times ahead! The rest of the crew eventually joined us out on the boardwalk (boardwalk!) man we'll be having some fun. I naturally snapped a bunch of pics that turned out pretty well, methinks:

And here's a rather great picture of the non-NyetBeck 4.3:

I believe this was the day we came home and had hot dogs for dinner. What wine goes with hot dogs, you ask? Red and/or white.

I should comment that I had a great time just conversing with peeps - lots of good talk. AS I think I mentioned, we've all got pretty different aims / backgrounds / personalities, so it makes for a good meshing of ideas. I particularly enjoyed chatting up 'Stophe about politics and with Ben about his trusty Geekonomics and my program. I was reading a book called Knowledge and Civilization - part of my "...and Civilization" series, reviews pending - and it provided a bit of fodder for the weekend. Beach novels are for chumps.

(I should insert that by far the funniest thing that happened all weekend, even funnier than "can i get a what the," was when Sarah cracked some joke about "yay for being supported by your spouse." I, starving grad student to be, gave a half-hearted "woohoo." That was not significant. What was significant was BOTH Ben and Ali yelled "YEAH!" and then looked at one another with a "uh-oh, we need to have a conversation later" look that brought the house down. Good times).

One more major thing to post from the trip, our excursion to Hunting Island. But that little ditty will get its own post, full of evidence (Exhibit 1A!) that supports our general incompetence and the existence of Ewoks in the jungles of South Carolina. Stay tuned! In the meantime, enjoy these flower pics from a bush that we passed every time we went to the beach:

Beach, Please 2: Frisbee is Da It

Beck, Ben, Ali, Christophe and I attempted to conquer the beach with our disc-throwing. Typically, the wind was howling along the coast, making for a nutsoid upwind-downwind adventure. But we all brought our considerable skills to bear and had a grand ol' time. My good friend Jay from up in Boston used to wax poetic about the pleasantries of just playing catch with a disc; add in the sun and sand, and you've got absolute glory. Of course, there was no one around to observe said glory, so we played simply for the love if it. And for the love, Ben laid out into the ocean to catch a disc - a fantastic play - and amazingly kept everything on his head despite the jarring waves. Of course, when he shook his head to get the water out of his ears, his sunglasses went flying - prescription sunglasses - and despite our better efforts, they were lost forever to the abyss. D'oh! But seriously, 'twas a great catch.

I stubbed my toe and ended up cracking the toenail which made for an unpleasant throbbing sensation Thursday night. So the beach frisbee had a corporeal victim, too. Beck pulled her neck Wednesday, too, so we were a pair of invalids on the plane ride back - no fun. I think my toe has healed enough to play Ultimate today (which I haven't done in a week and a half now - I'm sure my Monday night team will be thrilled at my in-shape-ness), and after four days or so, Beck's neck finally seems to be getting better. Getting old rules!

To change gears entirely, we made a conscious effort to eat in as much as possible on the trip to avoid spending too much mullah. But we (and by we, I mean the rest of them) are a bunch of good cooks, so this was completely in our favor. The first night we had pasta (and wine), then hot dogs (and margaritas and wine), then burritos (and WINE!), then fish/shrimp/scallops (and wine). SPRING BREAK! We did cave and grab dinner at a nice little restaurant called Plum's on the last night - if you're ever in Beaufort, be sure to check it out. (Pronunced "Byoo-fert," btw). So a week of great dinners, and we supplemented those with ample chips, cookies, and cereal, oh lord the cereal. Again, it was a minor miracle that we sent 7 people into a grocery store and correctly predicted the amount of food we would need for the week (though to be truthful, we did head back to Publix a couple of times to grab miscellaneous items. And to swing by Sonicamericas Drive-in, YUM).

SO a lot of the trip was spent hanging and eating and snacking and the like. Malcolm managed to grab the spotlight a fair amount, and rather than do some shmarmy account, I'll just post a few pics here that indicate his over-flowing cuteness. Topics of discussion included nom, overhead lights, lemonade, and naturally, his mum, who along with his dad is doing an excellent job raising the little dude. And yes, raising sometimes = peppering his day with sarcasm in the loving way that only Sarah pulls off. (And poor Christophe - Malcolm is at that age where Mommy = The World, so he gives Christophe the "wait, you don't have milk!" treatment now and then. Fear not Christophe - 'tis a phase, and regardless, your anti-conservative liberal bias will surely seep into his beautiful brain regardless. Vote Obama, Malcolm, vote!). So yeah, PICS:

All of which demonstrates that you may think a baby would less than ideal to have on a vacation, but Malcolm greatly enhanced our days. Thanks for taking time out, homes.