SwampLog 3.0

Boob Tube Bingo

While my summer TV viewing has been dominated by 'Battlestar Galactica' and 'Six Feet Under,' the fall season is about to get rolling, and that means it's time to go down the hatch.

'Lost' premieres Wednesday, 21 September. I just had my appetite sufficiently whetted by hitting one of the pseudo-sites for 'Lost,' OceanicFlight815.com. There's a little "connect-the-dots" game under the Explore tab. The third bit, "The Hatch," features a short clip from the Season 2 debut. If you like the show, get clicking. You won't be disappointed... because I won't tell you what the clip shows.

At dinner Friday night, one of the topics of discussion was the "must-see" show list. Mine was 'Lost,' 'Galactica,' '24,' 'The Shield,' and 'The Sopranos.' 'The West Wing' was brought up, and while I would love to have been on that boat, I just didn't have time to get into it. A promise was made to trade DVD season sets.

With TiVo, DVD season sets, and other ways to catch the shows you care about, I wonder from time to time how well the networks are catching up to the ways we watch TV in these, the Aughts. My DVR is a godsend, and has been from the minute I got it. I constantly preach the Gospel of Tivo© to anyone who will listen, and the standard argument is "I don't watch that much television." My response is always "You don't change the amount of TV you watch, but the ways you watch it change." I could care less when 'The 4400' actually aires, because it will be waiting for me whenever I have 45 minutes to spare.

26 Aug 2005 Is Up

After a two-week hiatus, the eclectic webradio show from Hell returns. Guest Programmer Katy Ruzicka helps us shake off the cobwebs with great stuff from Whiskeytown, McHugh & Fincher, and -- oh, yes -- Jimmy Buffett.

Subscribe to the podcast by using this RSS link right chere, or grab the 28 MB MP4 file by right-clickin' and savin'. Odeo? Oh-eee-oh-eee-oh. The full playlist for this week sits right about 'chere.

Update: The bloody XML doc is repaired -- meaning the feed, the iTunes subscription, or whatever you use that doesn't involve just downloading the file now works. Again.

A Mystery Is (Partially) Solved

You might recall I was perplexed by the song "Ridin'" by Classic & 86, from the 'Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle' soundtrack.

Well, at least part of the riddle has been solved... by a commercial. Dodge is using a bitchin' mashup of "Hair of the Dog" by Nazareth to promote their new Charger. The artist? None other than Chris Classic.

As far as I can tell, he's an indie artist out of New York. I've sent an e-mail to him, looking for more details about his career, "Ridin'" and anything else I can get out of him.

As for "Now You're Messin'," it's only available through MusicMatch. Bastards.

UPDATED: Here's his bio from MySpace:

The music industry is a business. No one has a better grasp of that than Chris Classic. Born Christopher Davis in Hempstead, NY, Chris began writing poetry influenced by Shel Silverstein at the age of 8. An eighth grade English class assignment influenced him to make his first rap. This would be his first, because in his Jehovah's Witness household, rap music and especially the idea of him rapping was not an option. However his success in his school project began a cycle of the ‘tough guys’ wanting to battle him, which caused large cafeteria crowds. Around the same time his aunt married a rapper who took an interest in him because he could see the hungry artist inside of the skinny, quiet, straight- A student. An incident involving a Nas single that Classic was hiding under his bed, which was discovered by his step-father, caused the young dreamer to pack all of his clothes in large garbage bags, throw them out of the window and jump down 2 stories to land on top of them. He went to his grandmothers house, drew closer to his new uncle and never returned home. Hempstead High School and College @ SUNY Buffalo were a blur for Classic, who was very popular and often performed at Talent shows and Showcases. After college, he later helped his uncle pen lyrics for his album where he got the chance to meet and work with artists like Nas, Kid Rock, Stephen Jenkins of Third Eye Blind, Jermaine Dupri, Jagged Edge, and Sugar Ray. He also secured a publishing deal with EMI for Classic. From there (2001) he met Ali Dee, his current producer and creative partner while writing for Union Turnpike on the Epic label. Dee of Deetown Enternainment was able to steer Classic on a songwriting path, with the likes of LFO and O Town and was able to use some of his demos for submissions for movie soundtracks and TV theme shows, including Harold & Kumar goes to White Castle, Without a Paddle, Coach Carter and Fantastic Four. When Ali made the transition to JSM Music, he brought Chris along. The magic of Classic and JSM led to the creation of several ads for huge clients like the NBA, McDonalds, Chevrolet and Dodge. Being in the spotlight as a major artist is a big dream for Classic still. Right now he is learning the business side of music first. “I have no specific genre of music that I specialize in” says the slim 26 year old, “ just good music, no matter what it is. People always want to define something. To them I say, define this: I’m Hip Pop Rock & Soul…get in where you fit in!” Now that’s Classic.

Huh.

Can The Joke Really Be That Good?

Quite a few critics have said 'The 40-Year-Old Virgin' is the funniest movie they've seen all year. While I didn't see that movie this evening, it will have to be riotously funny to top the flick I did see -- 'The Aristocrats.'

By now, you've heard the premise: several dozen of the best comedians from the last fifty years perform the same joke. It has been passed down through the ages by performing comedians from the early days of Vaudeville and the Chitlin' Circuit (and maybe earlier, according to Richard Lewis). The joke has the same beginning:

A family walks into a talent agency. It's a father, mother, son, daughter and dog. The father says to the talent agent, "We have a really amazing act. You should represent us."

The agent says, "Sorry, I don't represent family acts. They're a little too cute."

The mother says, "Sir, if you just see our act, we know you would want to represent us."

The agent says, "OK. OK. I'll take a look."

At this point, the comedian goes into a graphic description of the most base, vile, profane acts they can muster. Fecophilia, sodomy, incest, bestiality... nothing is out of bounds for the joke. Once the family's depravity has reached a crescendo (or the comedian runs out of steam), the joke concludes:

For the longest time, the agent just sits in silence. Finally, he manages, "That's a hell of an act. What do you call it?"

And the father says, "The Aristocrats!"

For some great examples of the way the printed joke works, head to Dead Frog's Aristocrats Joke Database. But you really have to hear people like Bob Saget, Billy Connolly, and Gilbert Gottfried tell it. It's astonishing.

Go see this movie. See it tonight. Get your friends out to it. I simply have not laughed this hard at a movie -- hell, in a comedy club -- in a long time.

And, yes... it's really THAT GOOD of a joke, in the right hands.

Boom! Goes The Gonzo

The semi-private memorial service for Dr. Hunter S. Thompson happened Saturday night in Aspen, when the 150-foot cannon mount, topped with the "Gonzo" fist, fired his ashes into the Colorado sky.

They keep saying there will be a public memorial service for him at a later date, but I don't know that it will carry the same weight. Thompson's big bang, from all accounts, was the proper send-off, and the only way to remember him now is to listen for the clink of ice cubes against a glass of whiskey.

With 'Six Feet Under' wrapping up this week, and Hunter's final repose on the Colorado countryside, I've been doing the maudlin business of wondering what form my memorial service would take. Past having all of my friends there, along with the few relatives I have remaining, I think I would want no black clothing around. None. Loud Hawaiian shirts would be nice, but definitely no black suits.

When we went to the Hollywood Forever cemetery in Los Angeles a couple of weeks ago, I saw a really cool way to do memorials -- a video tribute, with your favorite songs and pictures, and testimonials from friends and family. While there's no way I could afford to be buried there, the concept of the small glass case with my ashes and small knick-knacks is also quite appealing.

As long as I don't end up in a shallow, unmarked grave because I pissed someone off, I'll be fine.

DAMmit!

Since Marty shuffled off to Guatemala this weekend, we're not going to have a DAMradio podcast for you this week. Send all hate mail to the proper address.

Next week, Katy Ruzicka has control of the show, since she was this highest donor for the Blogathon. She's supposed to get me her playlist on Monday, and I can't wait to see what she has in store.

Your regularly-scheduled and -programmed DAMradio will return on Friday, 2 September.

...And You Can Pick Your Nose...

"Cab, do you ever wonder why, sometimes, friends just vanish the way they do?"
"It's a lot like nature. You can only have as many animals as the ecosystem can support, and you only have as many friends as you can tolerate the bitching of."
-- R.K. Milholland, Something Positive

While S*P is generally a font of bittersweet comedy, it will make me think on occasion. Good humor, after all, is rooted deeply in truth.

The number of people I call my friends -- the ones who, when I have good news to impart, get the phone call within 24 hours -- are dwindling. That's fine by me. I need my friends, but I don't need the world to be my friend. Just my adoring public.

Let's say I had to pick out my wedding guest list. (Quit laughing!) The groomsmen are easy -- Marty, Thomas, Woody, Chance. The invite list is tougher. If I'm on a budget, who makes the cut? How many people would be left on the cutting room floor? I would venture to think, not too many. I could probably get in and out of there with 50 people or less. And that's with very little "well, he never gave a fuck about me anyway" maneuvering.

I have been truly been lucky with the caliber of the people I've come across in my life, for the most part. I only hope I've shown them the same warmth and friendship they've shown me.

More Overheard Gold

D: You know, that aguardiente wasn't too bad.  Not great, but not bad.
M: Good, since I'm planning on bringing back a couple more bottles from Guatemala.
D: No, dude!  Don't!  Bring back something that is actually drinkable.
M: Like what?
D: Tequila.  Good local tequila.
M: I can't drink tequila, you know that.  Whatever -- what kind?
D: Find out what the locals drink, and bring back a bottle of that.
M: The locals are all poor.  They drink aguardiente because that's what they can afford.
D: Fine.  Find out what the Guatemalans living over the poverty line drink.
M: I think I'm staying with one of the few locals above that line.
D: Excellent!  What does she drink?
M: What doesn't she drink?   You'd be proud of her.   Seriously.

Overheard

[Marty and I are doing lawnwork.  It's been three weeks since we've done so, and over four months since we've done anything in the back yard.  As I'm mowing the first bit of the back, after he's weed-whacked the hell out of the forest-like growth, he motions me to turn off my iPod.]

M, in a snooty accent: "Oh, look, dear.  The gay Democrats at the end of the block are doing yard work finally."

I haven't laughed that hard in a month.

A Night In Section O

Marty and I took in a Cats game at LaGrave Field last night.  It's a rarity when both of us can get out to a game together, and even though the Cats lost it was a fun night.

Camera phones generally suck, but sometimes they can come in handy.