Slaughter Rule

I’m thinking the Rockies are going to win at least one game at home, humidified balls or no.

But the real question remains — will Manny Ramirez ever make it around the bases without slowing down to adjust (or fling off) his helmet as it impedes his unkempt locks?

Update: Well, I was right about Manny’s hair at least.  And omedetou, Daisuke-san.

Anti-Parent Culture Sound

I finally got around to seeing American Hardcore, and I really enjoyed it — no huge surprises, no real revelations, but a solid retrospective of the time, places, and most of the people involved.  (I would have loved to have heard more from Black Flag bassist Kira Roessler.)

It’s hard to tell what the scene would have been like if the internet had been around back then.  Networking would have been a lot easier to accomplish, but the strong allure of flash games and pr0n might have been enough to keep the kids from ever picking up guitars in the first place.

T.S. Eliot Gets Pwned

A LOLCATS version of “The Waste Land” (via).

He might have reconsidered his love of cats if he’d known this was coming.

“Epic Pooh”

Circa 1989, science fiction author Michael Moorcock’s essay “Epic Pooh.”

I’m almost done with Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials, and I’m impressed on many levels.  (Mostly because he’s managed to get away with so much in what’s ostensibly a trilogy of fiction for “young adults.”)

I’m curious to see how the first film installment plays out this Christmas.  My guess is that a fair amount of the source material will have to be redacted to appease the tastes of most American audiences after the wild successes of the film versions of The Lord of the Rings (and the apparent failure of Narnia).  Many of Moorcock’s criticisms of Tolkien and Lewis are shared by Pullman as well, and the religious and philosophical ambiguities of his novels will be hard to translate to the screen.

But what can I say?  It’s hard not to be excited seeing Sam Elliott cast as the Texas Aeronaut Lee Scoresby (i.e., a dirigible adventurer).

Fitter Happier

Kudos to Radiohead for driving another nail into the coffin of the old-timey record industry.  It would be nice to see this growing trend continue (Prince, Trent Reznor).

That said, meh so far on In Rainbows.  I probably need to find the time to give it more attention than I’m currently able.  Then again, I’m that guy who thought The Bends might have been their best album, along with the half of OK Computer where they still wrote songs.

While I’m at it, get offa my lawn you crazy kids with your blippity-bloopity.

“And Jethro Tull was still playing on the radio.”

Spin offers up yet another forgettable montage about punk “breaking” in ‘77, but this short piece by Anthony Bourdain has a redeeming quality to it:

“This was the year that Saturday Night Fever — a decent film about a hopeless, pig-ignorant loser who fills his empty nights by dancing (badly) at a local disco — was criminally misread by millions of people who made its well-portrayed but pathetic protagonist into a hero. Every douche bag in America who could buy a white suit or some heavily adulterated cocaine was suddenly empowered to show you his back fat and chest hair. It was the triumph of the Ron Jeremys.”

You can’t go home again. Nor, in most cases, would you want to. It would probably be a blast to visit though, once my time-machine comes back from the shop.