For my sister, identity protected... Most of my Saturday evening was spent hanging out with family and friends. Big spread, tons of great music, and lots of laughing and merriment. At one point, my sister asks me if I would drive our mother home. It's my sister's car, so she would be coming along, too. Now, first, my sister's car would be better classified as the most comfortable computer I've ever driven. It literally almost doesn't need a driver, it's that advanced. I often remark about how driving her car must be like flying the space shuttle. Sometimes, when I'm driving her car, I reminded of driving my first car: A 1964 Dodge Dart. The thing was a tank. Likely considered undriveable today, the passenger door was held closed with a bungee cord, most of the lights didn't work, and there were some fuel leakage problems, too. So, really, the thing was a heap of crap. I'm still kinda dazzled by driving my sister's car, especially when the back-up camera view is displayed on the in-dash monitor—even has real-time CG guidelines that follow your movements and change color to alert you of collisions. Know what that old Dart had? Yeah. Not even any of that. Once we got on our way to taking our mother home, we all settled in with casual conversation. It's nice; it's pleasant. Plus, it's a beautiful day, we're all having a good time, and my eyes glance at the radio. I notice a name. Wait. I think I recognize it. Oh. Here comes a turn, and I know the thing my sister means, so I look in the rear view mirror to nod, and, there's a click. Yes. I do know that name: Cody ChesnuTT. Actually, the two capital t's were very helpful. Later, trying to explain to my sister who I thought the singer was, I stammered and struggled to present what pieces of the memory I could assemble. But I couldn't paint a clear-enough picture for her. Dunt, dunnuh nuuuh—The World Wide Web! AXE CommercialSo, dear sister of mine, here's what I was talking about. Also, it's, uh, totally cool if any of you reading this, who aren't my sister, still wanna to go ahead and finish the rest. This first link is to the commercial I was trying to describe. I hadn't seen in a while, but it still made me smile... even pre-historic clay-mation girls like the bad boys. Go figure. Cody ChesnuTT: Look Good In LeatherEvery time I saw that commercial, I liked the music from it more and more. Too competent a song, I thought, to be a mere product jingle, I did a little surfing on the web, and found the original song. It seems like I would have tried to tell her about it, already. A sister is someone to whom you can freely say, "Hey! I'm totally smitten with this commercial song. Listen to it, and then just try and tell me it didn't at least put a smile on your face. I totally dare you." Here's a link to the original video. And, yes. We so, like, live in 1984. Sha. What ever. LSL - 072912/03:54 Persistence, they say, is the better part of victory. I just kept pressing the 'door close' button over and over until, finally, the door closed. Obviously, the elevator had met its match... and knew it.
LSL - 072812/13:50 Pop Nocturnal Transmission
Another surreal night of dreams. Wandering through a maze of buildings, rooms changing shape; ordinary things made of small machines. A six-foot, battle-ready sentry morphed into a robot thin enough to slide under a door. Noir color scheme, secret codes; Minneapolis funk music. I can’t fully describe it all. Very trippy. Imagine the Matrix; but with Edward Scissorhands as the Architect, and Prince as the Oracle... [= LSL - 072812/13:12 That weekend, he recruited several of his friends, made some poorly-worded and misspelled signs, gathered outside a calculator factory, proudly strutted around downplaying the importance of accuracy, and ridiculed anyone with the nerve to dare question his ability to do basic math. They were gonna call themselves the Tea Party... name was taken, though.
LSL - 072712/10:11 Often, one of the most tedious parts of life is having to interact with people who are consistently, clearly, and brazenly living beyond their aptitude or intelligence; and are completely oblivious to it. The experience can be quite maddening. On the phone with a pipe company salesman, I kept trying to explain the obvious problem with my order. I’d get about three words out, and the pipe guy would drone on with his, "We sent you the pipes you asked for. No refunds on custom jobs," routine. Again. So, frustrated but polite, I asked him to read everything back to me. Again. He tersely went over the details. "Custom PVC. Six lengths; eight feet long, each. Pressure fit. Underground coating. 42 total feet. Standard shipping. Payment: VISA. Attention: Facilities." I deliberately let, like, twenty seconds go by before I asked if he’d caught the error. “I think your math might be a little off, sir. Simple mistake,” I calmly said. “NO, I don’t think so,” he shot back. More silence. “Really? You, uh, sure?” I asked in obvious disbelief. “Maybe check it with, I don’t know, a calculator, or something?” I offered. More silence, broken only by my heavy sigh. He hadn’t noticed the error—even when it was all but spelled-out for him—and was so confident in his position he couldn’t see the simple mistake glaring him right smack in the face. I mean, dude... you gotta be kidding me with this elementary school math crap. Geeze.
I felt kinda bad about it later, but I just hung my head and hoped this idiot hadn’t reproduced. So glad it was Friday... [= LSL - 072712/02:43 Winger: SeventeenDon't Cry Winger Can a musical performance also be a cry for help? Looks like Reb Beach might have thought so. Music history has rarely been kind to this band; me included. To help balance the karmic scales, if you will, I actually posted a kind-of posterity apology to Kip some months back. Beach’s guitar technique and kick-ass solo here totally shreds. That said, the rest of the song sounds pretty much phoned-in… and likely was. [= LSL - 072512/02:36 Radiant Abyss Much
BLAMM! Something huge and mechanical crashes through the window. The blast throws me to my back... a storm of small fragments rages in every direction... heavy metal grinds through furniture and shattered glass. Just time to think twice. I'm bleeding—got both guns drawn. I stumble to my feet and face what I can only describe as a Decepticon made from a push mower... the size of a Hummer. Good thing I was dreaming. [= LSL - 072212/07:46 Never Happened*
I’d got back up, and brushed the dirt from my eyes. I didn’t feel injured by the fall. The loud, pulsing blast had stopped. Or, maybe I couldn’t hear anything. I was just remembering why I knew what was inside the door when something pinned me back to the ground. It felt like a truck had been dropped on my entire body. I could hardly breathe, and I had no idea what the creature from inside the craft was saying to me. *Originally posted on Tumblr 040212 LSL - 072012/22:28 Peter Gabriel: Modern LoveWink Then Freezer Tacky pearls, Lady Godiva, red-hot magneto—yeah, I was totally at that shindig. Had a blast. Anyway. I'm guessing someone on Peter Gabriel's staff had friends with an empty shopping mall, fencing gear, and thousands of dollars in video production equipment, at their disposal. I did have a bit of difficulty linking the song with the video. Still—it is Peter Gabriel... comparatively, I know nothing about this stuff. [= LSL - 071912/01:48 |
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