this hurts me more than it hurts you

i love coffee.
i love it so much.
i love coffee so much that i think i've caused permanent damage to my stomach drinking its burning deliciousness. therefore i consider myself something of an expert on the matter of coffee. therefore my opinion is valuable.

so then, when i say that Dunkin' Donuts makes a great cup of coffee, i'm not lying. that statement carries a lot of weight.

so then, when i tell you that Dunkin' Donuts has made a giant blunder, that too must be taken very seriously by the masses.

allow me to explain.

for starters, i agree with john goodman. the pride of seattle leans a bit towards the pretentious side of things. venti? grande? barista? naming its coffee chain after a Mellville character?

if starbucks were a person, i don't think i would like it very much. it would reference obscure movies and songs to impress others around them. it would wear fancy clothes no matter what the occasion. it would waste its saturdays saving whales. it would never drink coffee out of a cup that's not biodegradable.

Dunkin' Donuts, on the other hand, seems to be the opposite of all these things. he's just a regular guy working 9 to 5, slogging it out in the fields like all the rest of us. he enjoys a good dirty joke. he loves styrofoam cups for his coffee.


















so when i saw the commercial for Dunkin' where it takes a jab at coffee shops that have menus written in "french" or "italian" or possibly (and i'm embarrassed for them here) "frettalian" i thought it might be a victory for the regular guy. because you see, coffee wasn't meant to be the official drink of the yuppies and pseudo-cultural types of the world.

and then during this commercial comes what must be considered the most hypocritical statement of all time. "Come try one of our delicious lattes this holiday season..." or something to that effect. notice anything strange about that sentence?

***

i once knew a girl in high school. she despised the cool kids because she wasn't one of them. and then she spent the next few years trying to become one of them. she worked hard at it, going to all the cool kid events, laughing at their jokes, sitting near them at lunch. and eventually they let her in. and somewhere along the way she lost herself.

i offer this as a warning to you, Dunkin' Donuts. its one thing to be phony. its much worse a crime when you're aware that you're being a phony and yet you chose to be phony anyways. the commercial's premise suggests that you know you're supposed to be the "regular guy." but the lattes suggest that you don't know who you want to appeal to. in fact, a recent story on NPR said D&D was exploring a new look for its franchise...exploring a departure from its traditional orange and purple/pink color scheme for darker, more serious colors. like, perhaps, pine green, white and black? it's also considering changing its name to Queequeg's Coffee. (1)

i could go on, but i won't. i'll just finish by telling Dunkin' Donuts how disappointed i am in them. don't pretend to be from the hood if you're living uptown. you're either one or the other. i'm never drinking a Dunkin' Donuts latte and i suggest you do the same. we'll get those from that frettalian place.


















1. this is not true

mute no more

i have a big announcement to make. before rumors run amuck and destroy the truth, let me just tell you directly that the Mute American campaign has come to rest.

it's been a long journey to be sure, filled with all the ups and downs that life has to offer. and i just want to say thank you to all those who contributed to the Movement, whether it was with your time, your money, or even your sanity. but mostly i thank you for your heart. i couldn't have done this without each and every one of you.

















over the course of what has seemed like years, we've worked together to promote the necessity of real democracy in these times that have been so often dark. it was a campaign born out of rage, but nurtured with peace and goodwill.

yes, last month's general election restored a voice to The People of the republic for which we stand. although recent history tells us you can only replace a corrupt government with similarly corrupted individuals, hope remains that this new crop will be somewhat less corrupt than the last.

but the important piece to take away from this experience is that - as hopeless as our system of government can seem at times - it is actually semi functional after all! and if that's so, how mute can we possibly be?

so here comes the next announcement:

after much consideration, i have decided to close the Mute American line of merchandise (which can be found by clicking here). this apparel has been selling like wildfire for months and is sure to become rare and highly valuable in due time (and can be found right here----> click me for valuable merchandise). great stocking stuffers abound! gifts everywhere! this is your chance to by a piece of history!






















you see, that's the irony at play here. it took a campaign called "Mute American" to remind the country that it had a voice.

and so now i urge you, please, buy these future historical relics...before they're only available for a thousand times the price at places like eBay.

and rest easy remembering that only through this capitalistic endeavor have we restored democracy's might. in this regard, buying a Mute American button is almost on par with voting.

take it away John Mellencamp...

i am not dead

not that you were worried.

believe it or not, i've reflected on some of the things this blog's had to say over the past several months and it has led to an interesting place. i've concluded that this blog might just be the most important blog in the history of blogs.

happy thanksgiving to all. we'll talk more real soon.

may the light of destiny shine upon you, Tigers

We will win. You'll see. We will win.

save music from the future

I like Beck's music. I own a few of his albums. Overall, I support Beck's career.

So forgive me, Beck, while I speak against you in the next few paragraphs.

In last month's issue of Wired Magazine, Beck talked about the future of music in the computer age. Beck says he's exploring new ways to make albums, something beyond the standard 10-15 song format which has been around since the mid-to-late 1960's. Beck said he's exploring the "album" as more of an interactive, multimedia experience. What does that mean, you ask?

The simplest way to say it is that Beck wants the listener to participate in the creative process. He wants to give the listener the pieces, but he wants the listener to complete the puzzle. Call it the iTunes Effect, if you will. You, the consumer, buy/download something...maybe a CD, maybe a DVD, maybe some digital files...and he wants you to put it together in whatever way you want it.

Even his newest album, called "The Information," offers a mostly blank album cover and it's up to you to decorate it. I'm told it comes with stickers.

yuck.

***

I'll say it again: I like Beck. I really do. Sure he'll never be the G.O.A.T., but he's good at being a decent music alternative with unique style.

But this is a bad idea. About as bad as when the Pistons decided to go teal.

















The Album, at its best, is a true expression of something. It can be as powerful as a painting or a film or a book.

And the thing about books, movies and paintings is that they are all finished before they are shared with the world. They are definite things. That's what's good about them. They exist.

Imagine if Moby Dick was a Choose Your Own Adventure book. "Turn to page 17 if you want Ishmael to spit on Ahab. Turn to page 42 if you want Ishmael to start his own whale hunting crew."

When you get to build your own version of Moby Dick you get to tell whatever story you want to tell. Suddenly the devastating poetry of the Pequod's tragedy, of Ahab's manic failure, are all lost. Melville's story is lost. All that exists is you.

And you by yourself is not enough.

***

Of course I shouldn't worry, because Beck's idea is a gimmick. And gimmicks rarely stick.

But still, I wonder what the iPod Era will do to The Album. In this age where you can build your own play lists, remix songs with a mouse, and carry an entire music library in a small hard-drive...what happens to the physical organization of music?

If Dark Side of the Moon was released today, would people download "Money" and a few other cuts and leave the rest? If they did buy/download all the songs, would they play the songs in order? Would the cover art become so iconic?



















Let me cut to the chase. Here are my three demands for the future of music:

1.) Artists make objects of art & art-lovers consume the art. The consumers do not alter the objects of art. They intrepret it, share it, and form opinions about it. But the objects of art exist unto themselves, even without the consumers.

2.) Music will continue to be organized and sold in some physical form, preferably as cheap CDs.

3.) Musical artists will continue the tradition of building cohesive albums that are meant to be played from beginning to end. Filler is unacceptable.

***

If Beck wants to embrace the future in order to look like a trailblazer, an innovator, then so be it. And if, alternately, I come off as an old-fashioned, out-of-touch dork, then so be it. But be forewarned: Beck's path leads to a shallower, emptier world without color or meaning.

My path offers enlightenment and truth.

It's your choice who to follow.

let google define ugly

My message today is a simple one. Without coming directly out and declaring The Word, let me just put it this way...

This is "ugly" according to the ABC network:













From the new ABC show called Ugly Betty comes that hideous creature. Or maybe hideous is too strong a word, so let's call her not pretty. Or at least, badly dressed.

Because let's face it, this girl's not repulsive. Although the costume braces make her mouth huge and her clothes are over-the-top terrible, she has an otherwise pleasant face. Here are a few pictures of the real life actress:




































This girl is moments away from being very pretty in real life (yes, she's a little round-ish, but who isn't these days?). But with glasses, braces and frumpy clothes she's suddenly morphed into Ugliness.

(Allow me a quick rant about the glasses. This is an entirely out-of-touch idea from the brains behind this show. Lots of people wear glasses. Many of those people look better because of them. Adding glasses to illustrate ugliness is straight out of an elementary school playbook.)

Hollywood once tried to fool us into believing that this girl was also a lost cause:




















In the movie She's All That, this actress played a nerd who had to become pretty before the film ends.





(there they go with the glasses again)








Tons of sarcasm is flooding into my mind, but I'll take the high road instead and simply say that Hollywood is all wrong about what makes people ugly. Hollywood's preschool lesson is often that real ugliness is "on the inside," but that's just not true. If only Hollywood would employ actual ugly people they would find this out.

And in an attempt to research true ugliness, I went to the one thing that holds no bias: Google. I searched with the terms "ugly," and "ugly people."

Friends, I present you with...

The Gallery of Google Uglies

(my advanced apologies to these ugly people):




















i can't look at this one directly












the real Ugly Betty?











is this a photoshop job?













"I look like a warthog."





















I actually get angry looking at this one.















Her face is shaped like toast.












At least they have each other?













I don't even know what to say here.




















yep. even pets can be ugly.








All right, all right, I can't take it anymore....no more ugly people.

***

ABC is hoping the gimmick of having an "ugly" main character will be enough to draw viewers in. But as you can see, Ugly Betty isn't really that daring because Betty's just pretend ugly - it's enough to tell our imaginations that she's supposed to be ugly without literally being so ugly that we won't watch.

There's nothing much wrong with that, I guess. It's just that she's not really that ugly when compared to actual ugly people.

arguing for the soft bulletin

The Flaming Lips have been around for about 20 years now. They've built a reputation for being one of America's most outlandish and absurd rock 'n roll acts. They sometimes wear fury animal outfits and fake blood. Lead singer Wayne Coyne has been seen performing from inside a human-sized bubble ball. They write songs with unusual titles like "Pilot Can at the Queer of God" and "Rainin' Babies." They were best known throughout the '90's as "the band who sang that song about Vaseline." And yet somehow over the span of their last three releases, The Flaming Lips took the leap from "weird indie fringe act" to "essential rock band."

The band's most recent release, At War With The Mystics, carries on with the precedent set by the previous two records. It's a mishmash of electrosonic space rock, with a bit more straightforward rock than Yoshimi or The Soft Bulletin. Yet Mystics isn't quite the opus that both of those other records manage to be. The highs aren't as high, the lows aren't as low.

But neither At War With The Mystics nor Yoshimi accomplish what The Soft Bulletin does. This is The Flaming Lips' finest musical concoction, the album that took them into rock royalty and crowned them as darlings. This is where The Lips most clearly express their artistic vision. This is the album that saved them. It's the book that an author tries to write his whole career and finally does.
















Back in the mid '90's, The Lips released an album called Clouds Taste Metallic. It was a surprisingly creative collection of songs that went largely unnoticed by the public. So what do you do when creatively you're starting to actualize but nobody's listening? You've already been dismissed as "the Vaseline song" band? If you're Wayne Coyne & The Lips, you go back to the studio and record Zaireeka, a four-disc album intended to played all at once. Someone say gimmick, right? Maybe so. But Coyne says on the band's website that it was during the Zaireeka recordings that they gained the enlightenment they'd been searching for. They realized then that they weren't a live rock band who records albums; rather, The Flaming Lips were a studio band that loved to tinker and experiment behind closed doors. Understanding this helped them to cement their identity. And once the Zaireeka recordings were finished, their identity understood, they were left with a few songs that just didn't work with the four-disc concept. Those songs laid the foundation for their next release, 1999's The Soft Bulletin.

***

Once the music starts playing, right away you are drawn into the theater of this album. You can picture the stage curtains spread apart as the show begins, the loud echoing drum snares and the "ta da!" keyboards. And then, once the scene has been established, in comes Wayne with that fragile, lovable voice (or, if you're new to The Lips, it's the annoyingly shaky voice), singing the words to a story that starts, "Two scientists were racing for the good of all mankind / Both of them side-by-side / So determined." Like most of The Soft Bulletin, this first song is lush with keyboards and backing vocals singing ahhs and oohs set to a galloping rhythm. Best of all, the keyboards sound a little like they're gasping for breath on their deathbed, like they're being bent and stretched in unnatural sounding ways. The Soft Bulletin is loaded with similar sound experiments throughout, blurring the line between noise and music.

Like following the white rabbit down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, thus begins this odd journey.

***

Like any good story, The Soft Bulletin succeeds in creating a unique universe for the listener. That's not something I can quantify for you, it's just something a person feels. The Wizard of OZ, Willy Wonka, The Royal Tenenbaums, Pulp Fiction - these are all stories that accomplish this. Sgt. Pepper by The Beatles is an album that accomplishes this. Shoot, Super Mario Bros. is a video game that accomplishes this. And so too does The Soft Bulletin. You might just have to take a blind leap of faith with me on this point.













But The Soft Bulletin's greatest strength lies in its cohesive themes, the way it ebbs and flows with tension between victory and defeat. In this regard, it is more than a collection of songs. Rather, it is a lyrically and musically connected work, which lends to the album's sense of being like theater or literature.

A good portion of the album concerns itself with strange stories: talk over spider bites, gashes on your leg, and lifting up the sun. But there is something bigger at work. Like the scientists at the beginning, The Lips themselves seem to be chasing some great discovery. The Soft Bulletin is not sung from the shy diary of some shoegazer. It is a declaration in the form of a story, some vague message of hope (perhaps) to ALL MANKIND!!! (echo, echo, echo)

But these large themes are almost always intertwined with tragedy, failure and the loss of hope. You begin to realize that The Flaming Lips aren't just a fun band playing fun music. Often times they are downtrodden and defeated, pessimists posing as realists.

"Waitin' for a Superman" for example, says:

Tell everybody waiting for Superman
That they should try to hold on
Best they can.
He hasn't dropped them
Forgot them
Or anything.
It's just too heavy for Superman to lift.

In "The Gash (Battle Hymn for the Wounded Mathematician)"
is about quitting in the face of adversity:

Is that gash in your leg
Really why you have stopped?
'Cause I've noticed all the others
Though they're gashed, they're still going
'Cause I feel like the real reason
That you're quitting, that you're admitting
That you've lost all the will to battle on

The pain is more straightforward on "Feeling Yourself Disintegrate":

Love in our life is just too valuable
Oh, to feel for even a second without it
But life without death is just impossible
Oh, to realize something is ending within us...
Feeling yourself disintegrate

You sometimes find yourself asking, "Why so downcast, Flaming Lips? What's the matter?"















However, the conclusion of "The Gash" - the musical apex of the album - is halfway defiant.

Still the battle that we're in
Rages on till the end
With explosions, wounds are open
Sights and smells, eyes and noses
But the thought that went unspoken
Was understanding that you're broken.
Still the last volunteer battles on
Battles on
Battles on

As we journey through this music, we come to understand The Flaming Lips as complex and highly emotional creatures. And this is conveyed not only through words, but also through the music, naturally, which I've not spent enough time talking about. You could give three dumps about the greater themes of The Soft Bulletin and still love it for its sometimes wildly unpredictable and sometimes strangely sweet musical fantasias. Download "A Spoonful Weighs a Ton" and you'll find out what I'm talking about in a hurry. One second it's a bunch of high-pitched sugary notes, trickling piano keys and flutes, and the next a rumbling bit of madness between bass and drums.

Listen to "The Spark That Bled" and it's perfect circle form, from beginning to end, despite the crazy path it takes you in between: contemplation, then blues, then cheer, then almost country, always theatrical. And who can deny singing aloud with the line: "I stood up and I said 'Yeah!'"

"The Spiderbite Song" is great interplay between piano & drums, twinkling chimes and random beeps, and Wayne. "'Cause if it destroyed you, it would destroy me."

And I love "What is The Light?" It changes the mood of the album with that thump-thump heartbeat rhythm and those deep, brooding thrusts on the piano, building a real sense of suspense. And the way it goes straight into "The Observer" - the epic instrumental - is brilliantly executed. Really, what a theatrical album.

***

Finally, you might be wondering, "Great, but what about the two scientists? What cure are they racing to find?" The answer, ladies & gentlemen, is they are trying to figure out how to capture love into some scientific form and use it to heal all sickness in the world. At least, that's my theory. Look at the subtitle of "What is The Light?"

"What is The Light?: An Untested Hypothesis Suggesting That The Chemical [In Our Brains] By Which We Are Able To Experience The Sensation Of Being In Love Is The Same Chemical That Caused The "Big Bang" That Was The Birth Of The Accelerating Universe."




















Ultimately, I can't say enough good about The Soft Bulletin. It's just an innovative and challenging piece of work through and through. It raised the bar for anything the band would record afterwards, making The Soft Bulletin their gold standard of achievement, the record that pushed The Flaming Lips into the realm of the elite.

Of course, the immense reception to The Soft Bulletin would go on to put great pressure on their follow-up release. People wanted to know if it was a fluke, or rather, if it was a sign of great things to come. Under this scrutiny, Yoshimi Battles The Pink Robots was released three years later, in 2002.

Will we carry this discussion onward, next to examine the brilliance of Yoshimi, and to eventually contrast it against The Soft Bulletin.

america's best kept joke

For those of you who are unaware, Boston is home to one of our country's greatest jokes. Why this isn't something we all know about and laugh about on a regular basis really baffles me. It's time to bring awareness to this national treasure.

While visiting Boston late in August, I ventured with some friends to a rather famous cemetery. It's called the Granary, and it's home to several dead patriots, such as Sam Adams, Paul Revere and so on. And it's loaded with awesome headstones, like the one below.














Pretty awesome, right?

Okay. So while we ventured through this historic place, I noticed one of my friends was all laughs. Laughter? I thought. In a cemetery?

"See that one over there?" she said, almost excited enough to explode.

We turned our heads slowly, full well knowing we were about to experience something crude and childish and wonderful. Our eyes connected with the object. It didn't take long to understand.

"Can you guess who's grave that is?" she gushed.

We shook our heads, slightly embarrassed, slightly proud to be American.

It was John Hancock's grave. It had to be.

***

Without further ado...

Ladies & gentlemen...I present you with...

John Hancock's grave:















I'm not kidding you. This is the real thing. Seriously. Nothing has been doctored. This is John Hancock's actual tombstone.

And actually, it gets better. Take a look at the inscription on the front:






Do you see it?

Scroll down for a zoom in.
























Yep, that's real too. It's all real. Someone with a real brain actually gave us these things.

Is it possible that this is all a coincidence? Or did John Hancock (or a member of his family) have a great sense of humor, demanding a cock-shaped headstone over his grave? Or was the tombstone maker just someone who was especially susceptible to the power of suggestion?

Whatever the answer, the fact remains that this is the best free attraction in the country and everyone should know about it.

Incidentally, I can't wait to see what either of the George Bush tombstones end up looking like.

burger king wins

In the movie Boyz in the Hood, Lawrence Fishburn tells his son that "there are leaders and there are followers. Which one you gonna be?" (NOTE: I'm not positive Lawrence Fishburn is actually in "Boyz" and I'm not positive that I'm even quoting the right film, and I'm definitely not quoting verbatim. Otherwise...).

Well, along those same lines, ladies & gentlemen, standing tall amidst all the sheep is a fast-food restaurant that has long been searching for identity and purpose, and I'm happy to report, it has found it. Ladies & gentlemen, Burger King has self-actualized before our very eyes.

There are leaders and there are followers.














In a world where fast-food retailers have been guilted into adding salads and other low-fat options to their menus, Burger King has gleefully decided to become the most bad-for-you restaurant on the planet and possibly in the history of the universe. The BK menu boasts the food equivalent of WMD, featuring such items as the triple whopper, something called "chicken fries," and a few other doozies.

The tour-de-force in Burger King's arsenal, though, must be the breakfast sandwich called the "Meatnormous." The name alone evokes images of greasy sausage, ham and bacon layered upon scrambled eggs, all naturally smothered in cheese. And maybe - just maybe - the Meatnormous comes with a side of sausage gravy to dip your sandwich into. It weighs, I imagine, a full pound, and upon digestion of the Meatnormous, I imagine you are overcome with a feeling of immense lethargy as your body uses all its resources to process such a fatty, cholesterol-laden meal (don't forget about the little hashbrown poppers that come on the side; it is your duty to eat those also).



* actual Meatnormous next to a Ho Ho, compliments of someone's MySpace page. Thanks to you.









Science tells us that every action brings forth a reaction. In the case of the fast food industry, the first action came in the form of a movie. "Super Size Me" - the pseudo-documentary / cultural commentary / science project where a man eats only McDonald's for 30 days - created enough short-term embarrassment about how susceptible Americans are to the fatty charms of fast food that retailers like Wendy's, Arby's and McDonald's decided to diversify their portfolios, so to speak. Suddenly yogurt and side-salads were all the rage. Who needed french fries anymore in a post-Super-Size Me world?

"Pshaw. I spit on such cowardice," said Burger King, triumphant.

While the nancy corporations out there mimicked the "Subway Approach," Burger King did the unthinkable. It laughed in Morgan Spurlock's face and said, "Your movie will only make us stronger. We will market food abominations that will make John Candy roll in his grave." And they have.

You might be wondering why I'm so proud of Burger King, a company on the verge of making Phillip Morris seem saintly. It's not that I appreciate destructive food at all. In fact, I never eat at Burger King, not ever. The food is not really the point. I understand that obesity is still rising in our country, and in two years 1-in-5 children will be considered obese, blah blah blahhh. Yes, that's terrible.

What I like is that Burger King has finally become free to be itself. No longer standing in McDonald's shadow, Burger King has distinguished itself as the food destination for men's-men. The King character himself is often seen in commercials either playing in NFL games or hanging out around construction sites or with lumberjacks. And there is nary a woman to be found in any of the commercials. There was even a musical commercial where men just sang and danced about the grandeur of BK's deliciously unhealthy food. They are not ashamed of what they've become. No no. Much to the contrary. Burger King celebrates its new found lunacy with infectious enthusiasm! with joy! with moxie! like Carnival! Seriously, it's like the majority stockholder died and bequeathed his fortune to his 17-year-old son, who now runs BK with all of his buddies.
















You see, Burger King's entire identity used to hang on its flame-broiled method of cooking hamburgers. However, that was never quite enough to distinguish them from McDonald's. It was a boring restaurant with boring food choices. McDonald's, alternately, owned the market on fun, what with Ronald, Grimace, Mayor McCheese, Playhouses, Happy Meals, etc. I guess Burger King wanted to be McDonald's for adults. The result was boredom.

But now they find themselves rebelling against the social norm in such a blatant way that Burger King almost comes off looking like a punk rock hero. And that's what's really important here. Call it a new marketing strategy if you want, but I think it's less contrived than that. Burger King discovered that, at its heart, its not a grumpy old curmudgeon meant for grumpy adults after all. It is, in fact, a Fat Man's Paradise. Nothing more, nothing less. That's what it always has been. It just took some time to figure it out. And now...freedom. The freedom to be what they are, like coming out of the closet.

There are leaders and there are followers. And Burger King has finally gone from the latter to the former, even though at the end of the day they might stand alone, left simply to make the world fatter and more pathetic with all their many chicken fries and Meatnormouses. Or their new philosophy may backfire, leading to Chapter 11. No matter the consequences, The King can rest soundly at night knowing it discovered a distinct personality for itself - finally - which is all any of us could hope for in life.

state of the union

friends, oh dear friends, how i've missed you. let's never be apart this long ever again, agreed?

what can i say? i've neglected my blog. i've opened up cans of worms only to leave them squirming about the floor. quite simply, i've failed you. and i'm sorry.

apollo 13 vs. open water...this was never resolved. the flaming lips battle never occurred. and i've been meaning to say something about Burger King forever.

well friends, i haven't forgotten. Napkin Sketches will be flowing with two or three new essays a week, just like in the good ol' days. now you have one more place to surf while killing time at work.

and in honor of my recommitment to Napkin Sketches, i've changed the look of the place. i hope you like it.

your humble servant,

the glide

pluto is still a planet

Apparently Pluto is no longer a planet.

I've been meaning to say something about this for a few days now. Might as well break the Napkin Sketches silence with this one, I thought. I mean this story is really really stupid, no? Who knew we, the citizens of planet earth, had an international council of astronomers who carry the power to declare the status of planethood? or to remove it for that matter? Seriously, how did these guys monopolize the power of naming & classifying the universe?

Well guess what? If you ask me, they haven't.

You see, they can change the definition of the word "planet" all they want, doesn't mean they can steal Pluto's planetary status away from us. They can't force me to teach my children that there are eight planets. They can't change hundreds of years' worth of grade school science projects. They can't undo millions of text books. They can't take away what's inside all of us.

Listen up you Indian-giving astronomers: Pluto is not Microsoft Office. In other words, you can't just tweak last year's version because you're bored and you need to justify earning a salary. The Solar System isn't as fickle as that.

Pluto is a planet. That's what they taught me throughout all my years and I ain't changing now. Sure, maybe if you told me the earth was round I'd say "whatever pal, believe whatever you want." Maybe that would make me a fool. But I ask you, what's the harm in keeping Pluto a planet?

You see, the pieces of the Solar System are like characters in a TV show. When you find a hit character that everyone loves you'd be stupid to kill them off. And everyone loves Pluto. Need I remind you of the dog?

And another thing. At least Pluto has a solid surface, unlike those other planets made of gas and vapor. Those planets are kind of dumb compared to Pluto, when you really think about it.

But the biggest point here is that most earth-dwellers still consider Pluto to be a planet. We out-number the Space Council and therefore we have all the power. Of course, we all understand that demoting a planet is on par with sleeping with your best friend's girl. You just don't do that. Not ever.

mini sketches: salute to snakes

Snakes on a Plane has finally hit theaters after many months of Internet hype. And while I long to see this film late some night with drunken hissing masses, sadly I must say I haven't seen it yet. But I will predict before seeing this movie that it will live up to the hype, forcing the studio to try to recapture the magic for a sequel or five. Of course none of them will have the same love affair with the public the way the original has, and most of them will come out straight to DVD. Sam L. Jax will not star in any future volumes, leaving the guy who played Cody in "Step by Step" to play clean-up duty.

Nonetheless, in honor of this special film here is a list of titles for future installments coming soon to a video store near you...

Snakes on a Plane 2: Snakes on a Train
The rationale is simple - change the setting and you have a sequel in the oven. And it rhymes. And the title completely contradicts itself, which is my favorite part.

Snakes on a Plane 3: Snakes...in the Rain!
Trying to capitalize on the rhyming technique, Snakes 3 nearly ruins the franchise.

Snakes on a Plane 4: Snakes take Manhattan
Looking for a proven winner to undo the Snakes...in the Rain! fiasco, the producers take a note from Napkin Sketches and set the disaster film in New York.

Snakes on Planes
If Alien can get away with simply adding an "S" to make its sequel, Aliens, then why couldn't Snakes try it? My crystal ball is also seeing the phrase "double the trouble" for this one. It writes itself.

Nelville Flynn's Travels
The Snakes franchise looks backwards in this installment, making a prequel about Sam L. Jax's character from the original film. It will be much better than it has any right to be, as it deals with Flynn's struggles with existentialism and the future. And nobody will watch it.

so, the franchise makes a power play to try to reclaim its place among the masses...

Snakes on a Plane 7 vs. Anaconda 3
Kind of like Jason versus Freddy or Alien vs. Predator, finally we will answer this age old question. By the way, this is the first one to have a theatrical release since Snakes 2. It makes more money in its opening weekend than Titanic. It stars Joey from "Friends". Then the world explodes and there are no more snakes on a plane movies.

would you rather?

While we wait for the impending battle between Yoshimi and The Bulletin, let's pause for a moment in our busy schedules to explore the question: Would you rather be one of the Apollo 13 astronauts during their catastrophic mission to the moon OR would you rather be left for dead in the middle of the ocean near aggressive sharks like the couple in the movie "Open Water?"





















We talked about this at the 1st Annual Shark Week Holiday Extravaganza, and everyone concluded that they'd rather be in the Apollo 13. However, I think we were under the Shark Week spell at the time, causing largely irrational responses. I recently watched "Apollo 13" again, so hear me when I say that You Do Not Want to Choose the Apollo 13 Mission Lightly. Just because the astronauts survived and the swimmers didn't should not enter into your thinking. Which brings me to the "things to keep in mind" before we get started.

thing to keep in mind #1: Just because the Open Water couple died doesn't mean you would, and vice versa for Apollo 13. So picking the space mission doesn't guarantee your survival. You dig?

thing to keep in mind#2: Don't choose Open Water because you don't know how to fly a spaceship. In other words, imagine you have the same skill sets that astronauts and scuba divers had.

thing to keep in mind#3: This is really an extension of the second rule. Don't make yourself too smart, wiseguy. In other words, just because you've suddenly learned how to fly a NASA spacecraft doesn't mean you'd be able to jimmy a brilliant fix that Lovell, Fredo and Kevin Bacon couldn't figure out. You're equally as smart and able as they were, not smarter.

thing to keep in mind#4: This game isn't necessarily about choosing which circumstance gives you a better chance to survive. I think this should be part - but not all - of your decision.

For those who haven't watched either film (or haven't learned about the Apollo 13 mission through some other non-Hollywood means) go to IMDB or Amazon if you want a recap. But if you're too lazy to do that, here are one sentence recaps of both stories.


Apollo 13: On the heels of the famous Apollo 11 moon landing, three astronauts are sent to the moon on what appears to be a much more uninteresting mission, that is, until the rocket breaks in transit to the moon, leaving the astronauts with almost no power or oxygen and little hope of making back to earth alive.







Open Water: A couple goes scuba diving and is accidentally left behind in the middle of the ocean with mean-spirited sharks roaming about, and nobody's around to help them.





So there's the setup. Dwell on these things and soon enough we will find the light of truth together.

yoshimi battles the soft bulletin: prelude to war

Did you know that war was brewing?
Can you hear the trumpets sound?
Over the hillside the gunpowder clouds
Forming where rivals surround.














Is it wrong to pit one piece of art against another?
Is there nothing to be gained?















I've given this time and thought, and no matter what is moral or ethical, this battle must commence.














So rise up, Yoshimi! Rise up, Soft Bulletin! For in the coming days you will fight to the death, and once and for all we will know which star shines brightest.















In other words, in the coming days and/or weeks we'll take a look at The Flaming Lips' duel triumphs, "The Soft Bulletin" and its follow-up "Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots," and once and for all decide which one is better. An impossible feat? We shall see.

So find those albums and get to listening. Form opinions. Prepare for war.

dance, stanley, dance!

Being an occasional know-it-all, an expert on all things relating to life, I had firmly understood this about reggae music: every song sounded exactly the same as the previous one and the rhythm never deviated from the bum-chacha-bum-chacha-bum-chacha-bum-chacha-bum pattern of every other reggae song. So I dismissed an entire genre of music as being one dimensional and worthless.

But then after going to Jamaica I realized that the only thing worthless was my opinion.

You see, what I failed to realize is that we all have a little Rastaman inside our hearts. He sleeps most of the time, but if you play reggae music for a long while, the little Rastaman starts dancing around. And when the little Rastaman starts dancing around inside your heart, the end result is always happiness.

I've named my little Rastaman Stanley in honor of the wood-carving, ganja smoking & selling wiseman who lived in a tree by the ocean. Everything about the previous sentence might seem like one giant lie, but I'm going to ask you to take a leap of faith and trust me on this one.

You see, I was once was lame. But now I'm found, uptight but now I see. I can't exactly pinpoint for you the exact moment when the enlightenment came. Perhaps it was the seventh time I heard "One Love" while breathing deep the salty breeze. Perhaps it was the 50th time. I don't know definitively when it happened. You see, Jamaicans are forever listening to reggae music. And if they're near tourists, they're listening to Bob Marley because they think that's what we want to hear (and they're right). Your average Jamaican hears the song "One Love" approximately three times every day, and amazingly they show no sign of exhaustion.

If you want to use the word "brainwash" then by all means, be my guest. But you're not going to convince me that reggae isn't beautiful. Because here's the thing: that repetitive percussion is critical to the Jamaican experience. The steady pulse of the music keeps time for the island like a heartbeat. And once you allow the flow to wash all over you, you end up feeling like you're coasting on a perpetual motion device, a perfect loop with no discernible beginning or end. Eventually you become lost in Jamaica's hypnotizing spell.

I know the cynics amongst us will fear that the Jamaicans are up to something devious with all this hypnotizing. But believe me, they just want us to relax and enjoy life. That is the reason God made Jamaica, I think - to teach the world how to relax. You could even make an argument that reggae music is the meaning of life, in an indirect sort of way.














I was going to conclude this piece with my thoughts on how reggae music relates to racism and September 11th, but it turns out my editor thought it better that I not. He thinks those elements would bring this piece down, which, he said, was not the point of reggae music. I said I knew that already, and that I didn't need him telling me what to think about things. "You're nothing without me! I made you!" I shouted at him, to which he shrugged and said, "Write about whatever," followed by some self-righteous remarks that I didn't appreciate. Sometimes I wish my editor would accidentally drink a cup of acid.

But my point is that reggae music is great no matter what your demographic makeup is. Because no matter your color or religion, you have a little Rastaman sleeping in your heart. And all he really wants to do is dance around and sing the words delivered to us by three little birds: "Every little thing gonna be all right. Don't worry. Singin' don't worry about a thing."

Makes sense, right?

About as much sense as a Jamaican bobsledder.