The King of Pointland

Are my ears playing a "Trick" on me?

A "Trick of the Tail", that is!

Sorry. Anyway, I just heard this new Ween song, Argus, from their upcoming album Quebec. The end of that song could have come straight from Genesis's 1976 masterpiece A Trick of the Tail. I recently heard a Flaming Lips song that also seemed to be informed by that album. I think you'll agree, then, that Trick ... is now the most influential album in rock history.

The Kids are All Right

Whoever you are, you rule.

Broken Clock

I'm not sure I like Ted Rall very much. This is a good one, though.

Goodbye

At some point in almost any given day, I'm either whistling, humming, or singing an Elliott Smith song. It's cliche, but I feel like I've lost a friend.

Update: It was probably a suicide.

Yikes

Wilinski caught in Pennsylvania
Grenade launchers, guns found in mother's home

Here Today, Gone Tomorrow

I panicked.

A friend turned me on to a cashier who could hook me up with the new Twenty. I traded one of my old bills -- old before its time, a design obsolete after only five years -- for the colorful new kid on the engraving block.

I was excited, excited in the same way you were excited as a kid when you got a new toy you'd been coveting for weeks or months. I went to bed thinking of the new Twenty, I dreamt about it in the night, and sighed when, upon waking the next day, I remembered it was still sitting snugly in my wallet. I drove to work with a big stupid grin on my face. Life was good.

For two more hours, at least.

That's when I went to the bakery for my first coffee of the day. Purely routine, done by rote: cup pulled from stack, inserted into coffee clutch, filled with Seattle's Best Sixth Avenue Bistro. Add 1/2 & 1/2, wait in line, try not to stare, cashier, $1.53, pull out wallet, and . . .

There's Andrew J, looking right back at me, and he is alone.

I just didn't know what to do. People were waiting. The nice Hispanic lady behind the register began to wonder why, fifteen seconds later, I was still staring into my open wallet with mouth agape.

The next part I observed as if out of my body, and out of my control. I watched myself take the Twenty and hand it to the cashier. I heard her say something in Spanish to her co-worker, heard the word "nuevo". I saw the bill enter the till, the steel clip holding it down atop its commonplace brothers.

It was gone.

One day, one day soon, I hope, I'll find myself in possession of another New Twenty. It will look exactly the same. It, too, will be colorful legal tender, difficult to counterfeit, with a pattern of tiny yellow-green "20"s covering the back, barely visible, as if deposited by some miraculous sneeze.

But it will never feel the same. Never.

Amateurs

Newspapers around U.S. get identical missives from Iraq.

Da Bomb

Will Hyattsville be where it's at? Hell, it already is. Favorite quote: "I think the point is that Route 1 always looked like a bomb hit it, and that's been the perception of Hyattsville . . ." says Mr. Franklin.

The Struggle

Announcing an exciting new feature: The TNR Files!

I subscribe to The New Republic, a weekly magazine of news and (sometimes bone-headed) opinion. The fine folks in their customer service department tell me I should be receiving my magazine no later than one week before the issue date. Here's how it works: take the issue date, subtract seven days, and that's the last day before my issue is considered late.

Example:

Date printed on cover: October 6, 2003.
Date by which I should receive it: September 29, 2003.

Here's the thing: I've been getting my issues the day after the issue date. For example, I received the October 6 issue on October 7. Because the material in the magazine is time-sensitive, this is a serious problem. By the time I read my copy, I'm thinking "Donald Who-sfeld said what? Where is Iraq, anyway? Is that next to Kumar?"

I made a few inquiries over the phone last week. The TNR said the issues are being mailed out on-time, so I had my local post office put a "watch" on the magazine. I'm to call this Wednesday and see when they received the most recent edition.

What makes this feature so exciting is that nobody -- not even yours truly -- knows whether I'll ever succeed in getting The New Republic on time! Even if I do, how long will it take to iron things out? How many phone calls? It's a total mystery!

Stay tuned for further developments on The TNR Files!

TWPIYDGIYDGI

The paper has a number of interesting articles today. The Post again does a good job of challenging Dick Cheney's public statements the day after. Here's what had Texas dems so worried. "This is the most aggressive map I have ever seen," Joby Fortson wrote in the analysis, which he e-mailed to congressional aides. "This has a real national impact that should assure that Republicans keep the [U.S.] House [of Representatives] no matter the national mood." For all my econotarian homies: Tax Revenue at 44-Year Low In Proportion to U.S. Economy. And some happy news (seriously) from Iraq.

Splendor

"What," I can hear you asking, "have you been up to, David?"

I've been away, my friends, in scenic South-central New Jersey. My parents live there, and sometimes I visit them, as I did this Sunday, for Yom Kippur. There were highs, and lows, and in-betweens. I won't bore you with the details. Summary: I ate and drank a lot. Then I ate and drank nothing. Then, I ate and drank a lot. And the praying, and the atoning, too.

Days before my journey to that magical land, I visited another wonderful place, a place I like to call Washington, D.C., where I had Ethiopian food at Meskerem with my good friend Jess. What follows is a shout-out to Jess: "Jess in the hizzouse, yo."

It's funny when I try to be hip.

On Saturday I saw a movie, American Splendor, and it gets the Palm d'David prize for the month of October, probably.

In a world where comic books are the domain of superheroes, supervillains, and people with artistic talent, one man will break all the rules. This autumn, HBO Films proudly presents the story of Harvey Pekar, a Cleveland file clerk who chronicles his mundane existence in the underground cult classic comic "American Splendor". Part drama and part documentary, this genre breaking movie is sure to make you laugh, make you cry, and often make you watch appreciatively without laughing or crying. Critics agree: "American Splendor is good." "American Splendor is nice." "American Splendor is a movie that is a good movie."

In all seriousness, I really enjoyed this one. Paul Giamatti shines, and, in it's own way, so does the dirty, grimy Cleveland of the 70's and 80's depicted in the film. Perhaps I'm a nut, but I find dingy urban blight strangely beautiful. And let's face it: I'm nostalgic for anything set in the 70's. It's a time I remember, and remember fondly, but barely.

Of course, there are the obvious comparisons to be made between the comic American Splendor, in which Pekar shares his day-to-day travails, and a blog such as this. Except that the comic has art. And it's good.

Saturday night, thanks to Goat, I saw Remember Shakti at Lisner audotorium. Hot mamma these cats can play. At one point I nearly hallucinated, and I wasn't using drugs.

So that's what I've been up to.

Coming Back

Yes, I know, no updates. I'm working on it -- I was away for the hollidays.

But check this out: " . . . the report said Fox News viewers were more prone to have misconceptions [about the Iraq war]. National Public Radio listeners and Public Broadcasting System viewers had the fewest misconceptions, according to the report."

Here's the press release.