But We Were Just Joking...

So this morning after the 10AM smoke, my work buddy and I were walking back to our desks when we passed President Bush giving a speech on the TV. I slowed down, hoping for a reaction to today's pending indictments, but instead heard him say "...these people do not share our values..." and immediately continued to walk. How long has he been giving that same speech? 4 years.

So anyways, my friend made a joke that he keeps waiting for Bush's speeches to degenerate into WWF wrasslin' interviews, with Mean Gene Okerlund holding his microphone, the whole nine. "Let me tell you sumthin', Mean Gene, we gotta show these fundamenta-ta-talists who's boss. They hate our freedom, so we've got to kill 'em. Look at the pythons!" Meanwhile, Dick Cheney is sneaking up behind him with a steel chair or whatever. The point is, we were joking. Then, I looked at CNN's website right afterwards. No kidding, this was the picture:



So it's official. Pres. Bush is turning into Hulk Hogan.

Here's another funny but kind of depressing link for oppressed liberals:
http://www.thefrown.com/frowners/becomerepublican.swf

Merry Fitzmas, everybody!

Cursed

After a series of misadventures over the past week, I finally wound up in the doctor's office today. I would've gone yesterday, but I left my insurance card at home in a pile of business and dentist cards. See, I've been cursed since last Friday. There's been rain soakings, bank overdraft penalties, rolling cherry stains on trousers, and finally, on Monday, my eye began to hurt. I wrote it off as simple case of sinuses run amok, but Wednesday morning I awoke to a full-blown, sweller of an eye infection. I look like somebody punched me in the face.

As it happened, my buddies The Strugglers came to town last night to play a show at the Warehouse Next Door. After several hot compresses, my eye looked presentable enough that I could forget about it and enjoy the night. The guys played a great show along with The Revival and Brandon Butler, who played with a full band of seering blues extraordinaires. I eventually forgot about the eye and became quite bold. One of my 20 year-old self's biggest idols, Ian Svenonius of The Makeup, walked through the door. Long story short, I eventually ended up getting to say a rather quick hello; he was really nice and smiled but he stared at my lame eye the entire second we were face to face. But you know? At least I still met the guy. Hopefully, we'll chat more next time, after I've healed up. I'm still stoked. That man profoundly changed my young mind and I will forever see him as America's closest answer to Mick Jagger. "Free Arthur Lee!" Fugazi's drummer was also there but I didn't get to meet him.

Randy, Jimbob and Lauren played one of my favorite Strugglers song, "On the Way to the Grave," which was written while I was sitting on our couch in Charlottesville. The Revival, who I first thought was good but a tad tedious, finally had a full accompanying band rather tha just Josh solo with his two huge amps and it was truly great. They played a cover of "Femme Fatale" with Josh's sister on violin, completely vulnerable and lush, just like the original but with his own twist. It's hard to imagine, but he managed to take a rock n roll cornerstone and make it his own. I'd never seen Brandon play before, but I really liked his set. Blistering blues followed by sparse alt-country with a few heavy honky-tonk rockers thrown in to make us dance. He's also a really nice guy and finely tattooed. I wish him nothing but luck on his new construction business. It was a good night.

Today, I finally felt like the curse was breaking. A few things happened today to change my luck:
1. A man was snoring so loudly in the waiting room that he woke himself up. Everyone laughed at him and he took it all in stride, making a little joke, and we all shared in one of those moments when complete strangers feel the slightest of bonds and ease for even a mere moment.
2. At the doctor's office, I checked off the box marked "+10 weight LOSS in past 6 months." When the nurse asked me how I lost the weight, I told her that I lost the weight by taking Kung Fu. I think I said Kung Fu at least 6 times in 30 seconds. "Well, this might sound strange, but I lost it by training in Kung Fu. My friend started doing Kung Fu and she got in great shape, so I started doing Kung Fu and the weight just melted off. I've been gaining a little back lately though because I haven't been going to the Kung Fu dojo as often and started eating cheese again." I still don't know what possessed me to say that but it brought a smile to my face.
3. At the pharmacy, this old man "couldn't get his wallet out of his pocket" so he asked the 23 year-old guy standing next to him to "help an old man out." Gross yet hilarious. I couldn't believe the guy dug it out for him. He reached into that old man's back pocket like a baskets of cobras, snatching it out so quickly that it flew from his hand to land several feet away. It's too bad the old man didn't have any popsicles.
4. I got some chicken mcnuggets for lunch. While in the McDonalds, this white guy jumped line in front of this black guy. The second guy, smiling, was like, "I know you think we all look alike but we people too. [To me:] Ain't that right, brotha? We people too." The cashier looked over at him and smiled, immediately throwing up the Black Power fist and saying "Amen, brother!" Turns out, this guy was the cashier's husband. Getting up to the front of the line, he says, "How you doin', suger? I've been waiting to get here all morning." She says, "Husband, you talkin' to me like we the only ones here." "Baby, to me, you are the only one here." You know that look of mischief wives get in their eyes sometimes? It blossomed.

Weight Watchers recipe cards, circa 1974

This one's quick and lazy (and somewhat rude):

1. Embrace mackereality.

2. Thing I Miss About Living in a Small Town #8:
I miss seeing people I know when I'm driving around town. I've lived here for 5 years and I've never seen anyone I know just driving around the city. In Jonesville, Va., everybody waves because it's assumed they know each other. The town is that small. They even have a patented "two finger wave from the steering wheel" move, just to save time while maintaining their manners. The newspaper prints who had guests for Sunday dinner. That's actually kind of sweet.

3. Last night was pretty cold and dreary so I stayed in to watch TV rather than going to my usual haunts for Monday Night Football. I ended up watching "Las Vegas," which almost demands its own commentary track. First off, infamous "that girl" Vanessa Marcil is involved. (Every bad show needs at least one direct connection to 90210.) Second, the star of the show, on ABC, is James Caan. JIMMY CAAN! Awesome. In the show, Jimmy plays a casino owner/former CIA Agent. Huh? The Jaded Roommate said, "You know he wrote the back story for his own character. It was in his contract. I'm surprised they don't say, 'Casino Owner/former CIA agent/owner of the biggest cock in the world.'" This led to a really bad joke by me about how Jimmy Caan immaculately conceived a baby, but, being such a great guy, payed for the abortion himself. Sorry... I know... At least I know where I'm going...
Bottom line, this might possibly be the "Most Ridiculous Show on TV" if not for all of the weird alien invasion shows. IMDb.com says it's been around since 2003. What? Thankfully, I've weened myself from most television and now listen to Def Leppard's "Hysteria" in my room while reading terrible fiction.
(Speaking of truly bad music...)

4. For those of you who love the 80's, here's a Queensryche video we should all forget:
"Eyes of a Stranger"

But this isn't just any Queensryche video, people. It's the final track from "Mind Crime," which has been lauded as the greatest concept album ever. In my opinion, that's the most dubious award an album can ever win. "Your album is the best collection of songs centered around the same batshit crazy idea and/or lunatic fantasy you wrote in your mom's basement." Here's a synopsis of the album's story from the band's own website:

6:00 P.M.
Our friend Nikki, charged with several counts of murder involving members of this city's political and religious leaders, has been committed to State Hospital under heavy security. London-born nurse, Debbie, seems determined to administer the tranquilizer and give us her personal feelings regarding her patient. Hmm? Injection completed, Nikki listens to his favorite tape and retraces his past.

I Remember Now
page: "Dr. Davis, telephone please Dr. Davis, telephone please Dr. Blair, Dr. Blair, Dr. J. Hamilton, Dr. J. Hamilton" News Broadcast: "...the Soviets... In other news the bizarre murders of political and religious leaders that have shocked this city over the last month seemed to have ended as suddenly as they began. No terrorist groups ... responsibility for the slayings, but police have a suspect in custody under observation in a state hospital. His identity is being withheld pending further investigation. Sports and weather next..." Nurse: "It's ten minutes past curfew, why are you still up? Hello? Hello? Perhaps you need another shot. Ah, that should do it. Sweet Dreams, you bastard." Nikki: "I remember now, I remember how it started. I can't remember yesterday, I just remember doing what they told me..told me..told me..told me."

Anarchy-X
Weeks ago in Occidental Park, hundreds of people gathered for a political rally. There was a man shouting above all the others: "Do we have freedom? Do we have equality? This country's changing! It is no longer for all of the people! It is for some of the people!" The man's name? "Dr. X."

Revolution Calling
....Ring!....Ring! The phone hasn't stopped ringing since the hypnotic meeting with Dr. X. His plan is brilliant in its simplicity: assassination and replacement. He calls it, "Operation: Mindcrime," and Nikki is the key player. Nikki has a weakness. He likes the needle. Dr. X makes sure Nikki feels good so he can do a good job. The chosen "Death Angel" is then easily manipulated through subliminal suggestion over the telephone. The password into Nikki's brain is "mindcrime."

Operation: Mindcrime
Nikki was a loser. A street kid, left to fend for himself at a young age. He was independent, and unpredictable, but harmless. Except now he had a philosophy, and that made him dangerous. "Revolution!" was the word on his lips as he stood in the streets and screamed, "Hey, listen to me!"

Speak
Mary worked the S&M shows in Times Square. At seventeen she met Father William, who arranged her cloister with "Our Lady of Immaculate Pain." A new life. A different way of living. Except for her debt with him, which was expected to be paid in full, weekly, "...on the altar. Like a sacrifice." When she was eighteen, Father William introduced her to a man named Dr. X. Now she works for him.

Spreading the Disease
Nikki spends quite a lot of time these days in his room; drawing gruesome, detailed depictions of his victims' deaths upon the dingy white walls. Drowning in guilt, he sees Sister Mary as his only means to salvation. He lights another candle and flips through the TV channels one by one. The familiar face of Father William appears. Is it wrong? Is it right? ....Ring!.....Ring!....."mindcrime!!" Decision made. News Broadcast: "...informing Washington, a technical violation of the 1972 ABM Treaty..." Preacher: "...I'm asking for hands to be uplifted in just a moment. God the Holy Ghost is calling out to embrace you. I want you to reach deep into your hearts and your pocketbooks and take his hand. Nikki: "Bless me father for I have sinned" Preacher: "Some of you are in a state of rebellion right now you're saying..."

The Mission
A long, satin black sedan slides to a stop in front of Nikki. The rain, beading on the dark, tinted windows, distorts his reflection. Bemused by his melting facial features, he's startled as the electric window descends revealing the smiling face of Dr. X. "Kill her," he said. "and get the priest as well." "Kill Mary?," asks Nikki.

Suite Sister Mary
Father William lay crumpled on the stairs leading to the sanctuary. Mary watches in disgust as her lover Nikki's troubled face dissolves into the leering, drooling face of the priest huffing and puffing above her. "...Altar...sacrifice..." something snaps inside her head. Nikki feels the coldness overtake her. He pulls away, vowing to kill Dr. X and set them both free of their master's manipulations. Pulling closed the huge door behind him, he stumbles into the rainy night to keep his appointment with his "maker."

The Needle Lies
After Nikki leaves, Mary is plagued by the vision of Nikki turning into Father William. As they made love on the altar, the memories came flooding back. Years filled with men who has used her, degraded and beaten her, and driven their hatred and coldness into her heart. Once, she thought Nikki was her hope. But now he seemed like all the rest. She hated him. She hated men. She hated life. "Anybody home?" Unable to shake his addiction, and feeling beaten in his confrontation with Dr. X, Nikki returns. "Mary?" He finds her dead in her room.

Electric Requiem
Unable to accept Mary's death, Nikki runs like a raving madman through the streets calling her name. Everywhere he looks he sees her face.

Breaking The Silence
The police arrest Nikki. The charges are: disorderly conduct, carrying a concealed weapon without a license, and resisting arrest. They know he's a junkie because of the tracks on his arms. His weapon also matches the one used in a string of recent killings. Nikki isn't making much sense now, babbling on about perverted priests, some kind of covert operation, and not believing in love.

I Don't Believe In Love / Waiting For 22
Left alone, Nikki thinks of Mary; of the night she died, and why. He wonders about his future. Who will be there to care for him and be his friend?

My Empty Room
Charged with several murders, Nikki is committed to State Hospital to overcome his addiction. Awaiting trial, he suffers insomnia and is delirious. Searching through his past, he tries to find reasons for his actions and his weaknesses. Staring into the mirror, he sees a stranger.

Eyes of a Stranger
page: "Dr. Davis, telephone please. Dr. Davis Dr. Blair, Dr. Blair, Dr. J. Hamilton, Dr. J. Hamilton"

6:01 P.M.
"I remember now."

wtf? For real. The only reason that I bring this up is because my friend sent me a link to their album announcement of "Mindcrime II."

Lotto Fever... Catch It! (and more...)

I feel like the Charlie Bucket of lottery players today. My friends keep calling and saying things like, "How many Powerball tickets did you buy? I bought $30 worth." Call me old school, but I'm just going to buy 3. Charlie Bucket won his golden ticket with his third Wonka Bar at much higher odds so I won't tempt fate and pull a Veruca. Hopefully, the lines at the convenience store down the street won't be too long when I get off of work. For the record, this is the 2nd time I've played the lottery, not counting my mom's Christmas stocking gift of five scratch off tickets per year.

Mark Jenkins is an amazing street installment artist. I've been scanning his website all morning. For those of you in DC, he's the guy behind those statues of tape men and babies around town. I saw his Tresmaria installment on 16th St. a few months ago and have been waiting to hear an explanation for months. He has a really great website with pictures, articles and even a tutorial on how to make your own tape sculptures. (I'm going to try it out this weekend with my red buddha statue.) Make sure you see his article from the Washington Post about the tape men attacking the Post's art critic. Here's my favorite of his Storker pictures:



The funniest Saturday Night Live skit of all time is the "Gerald Ford Dead Today" pre-taped memorial skit. Here's the transcript:
http://snltranscripts.jt.org/96/96dbrokaw.phtml
"You will be if you break the Gerald Ford story!"

Going Downtown.... Danville style.

This past weekend I went back home to Danville, Virginia, for a little break from the big city. Sometimes, DC can be a bit overwhelming and I need to get away for a few days, not to realize that I miss it and love it, but because I just need some time to relax and not worry about traffic, gigs for bands, work and everything else that causes me stress. While I didn't even come near doing everything that I had planned, I still had fun and it was great to see my friend there, as always.

Saturday afternoon, my parents were busy scraping the dust and paint flecks from their new windows and refused my help, so I grabbed their trusty Fuji digital camera and ventured downtown to take a few pictures. Downtown Danville has always had a very unique, almost reverential vibe for me. There's always a new mystery to find or some little feature of architecture that goes almost entirely unappreciated. It's a constant reminder of a different era of Danville's boom times, when it was known as the "World's Biggest Tobacco Market." Even more so, downtown Danville stands as a monument to a time when artistry and invention could be worked into even the most utilitarian buildings. Mostly though, for this trip, I concentrated on the fading paint of Danville's wall advertising, put there before billboards became popular. I've watched them fade over the years and wanted to capture my favorites before somebody painted over them as a part of Danville's latest attempt to revitalize the downtown area.

Let's start with the advertisements:



This one's always been my favorite, for obvious reasons. However, I saw that the Wilco warehouse out on Hwy 29 has been turned into a Purina animal feed distribution site. Trading in one kind of cake for another, I guess.









I had a bit of fun with this last one.




And this one is my favorite picture of day:



The sun was hitting that wall perfectly plus it was the hardest picture to get. The street corner where I took a lot of these pictures, right over near Green St. by the old Schwinn Bicycle store, is notorious for drug dealing and even a couple drive-by shootings. (I'm dubious of the drive-by reports though; there's a police station only 100 yards around the corner. I think Danvillians just say these things so they can scare each other or be shocked about something.) However, the building with the Dr. Pepper ad houses a heavily-tagged carwash, which is a reputed front for several local drug dealers. I was definitely being watched while taking those pictures.



I just thought that one was too funny to pass up.

Here's some other pictures I took around the area:







The Hotel Leeland is a residential hotel and has always held a sort of mythic status with my friends and I. It's where all the crazy people seem to end up, the last stop before the train out of town, either upstate or up the creek. It's also where all the prostitutes plied their trade when we were teenage skate punks hanging out in the underground parking lot across the street. If Sid Vicious had died in Danville, his body would've been found in Room 21 of the Hotel Leeland.



This picture always makes me think of Mexico or something. Look at Martha flashing the camera in the bottom right. Oh Martha, have a little dignity.



When I was a kid, I was really into castles so this warehouse was always "The Tower" and I would stare at it in awe every Harvest Jubilee. I even tried to draw it a few times when I was in the 2nd grade. That aside, this really illustrates my earlier point. This is a tobacco warehouse. Why have a tower? Artistry abounds in these old buildings so why not have a tower? This is also across the street from the building where I found the whiskey still and 1930's era stash of Coca-Cola syrup bottles, from before the days of carbonation.



Yet another example of the little things to be found downtown. This is a mural underneath the roof of the Danville Register & Bee's front entrance. I had never thought to look up before. Surprises are everywhere.



This is an old photo of The Temple, a local show venue, and the gothic boutique next door. These shops have been closed as they are currently trying to sell the Sonic Building (Danville's only skyscraper) and turn it into condos. I don't know how I feel about that. While it'd be nice to finally reintroduce downtown Danville to everyday life and get more commerce and personality into the area, part of me frets that so much of the old downtown will be lost in the mix.

The next few times I go home, I'm definitely going to be photo hunting, hopefully culminating in trespassing to find that whiskey still underneath Craghead St., getting some pictures of Sammy and his Downtown Records shop, and finally taking the time to line up a shot of the Living Tunnel fallout shelter at night. (I found a specific point where you can lie down on the street in front of the tunnel and the red lights from the traffic signal behind look like eyes. Plus the tunnel is eerily lit at night so the whole thing looks really haunting.)

*NEW NOTE*
I got bored today at work and tried to edit the power line out of the Pepsi photo above. I don't know, the line's gone now, but the middle P looks fake. What do you think?

Reason I Like DC #34

I love living in the city, most of the time. Getting gas this morning, I went inside to pay and was on my way back out to Martha the Jeep when this Ford Escape loaded with tourist retirees from Texas pulls up out of nowhere and starts honking their horn. I slowly turned and gave them the full "DC Attitude" look. They actually looked somewhat afraid. Then, I'm pumping my gas and the other two guys at the pump, both DC residents, said, "Fucking tourists" and "Next time, you need to walk in past their car a little slower." Awesome. Those tourists, however, now have a story to tell their children. "Remember how mean and rude those people in DC were?" We ain't mean, we just got different rules.

Stupid Post

I was all set to write this whole article today about why men of my generation are confused and still play with video games and lightsaber's after the age of 12. I probably wrote about 5 pages on the subject before I realized that it was a pretty dumb subject and got bored with it. Anyways, here are some highlights:

Yesterday, my company took us all to play paintball out in the woods. I didn't get to play but a lot of the guys who did took it way too seriously, buying specialized paintball equipment and wearing camouflage. I laughed and laughed when the best player of the night turned out to be a 25 year-old girl, who iced guy after guy in her white sweatshirt and running pants. I also got to make a lot of "floating head" camouflage jokes, which are normally only applicable at Walmart during deer hunting season. By the way, these guys were also the same ones who now play with remote control cars during their afternoon break. Ridiculous.

Then basically I wrote a lot about how 80's cartoons and movies like "Red Dawn" were, while not planned, propaganda to prepare us for the next war that never came, presumably with Communism as a whole. Good Vs. Evil = Democracy vs. Communism = Autobots vs. Decepticons, GI Joe vs Cobra, etc. But we never had a war so now we're all confused about our place in society and the computer revolution of the early 90s gave us all the means to buy the toys we never had as kids and never grow up.

So I guess the last paragraph I wrote was the point I was looking for:
I asked my dad once what he thought about all this silliness, why I still felt like a boy trapped in a man's body at times. He said that the change to manhood is never complete until your first child is born, the responsibility changes your life forever. I think that's all that really needs to be said.

Origin of Species

So today I'm truly living up to the name "Jaded Lens." Here's a story about where that name originated:

Back in the summer of 1999, I was working for a Congressman on Capitol Hill. I gave tours, wrote correspondence, worked issues, etc., etc. I was known as the best tour guide on our floor in the Longworth Office Building. I knew how to work the staff at the Senate Cloak Room, the best times to sneak onto the floor during recess, all the quick shortcuts, the secrets of the Old House Chamber, George Washington's crypt, and even the history behind most of the state statues. All of this history overloaded my brain. The Capitol, the White House, indeed even the US Mint, ceased to sparkle. Finally, I was leading a tour for two Southside Virginia families when the Backstreet Boys turned out for a photo op in the Capitol Rotunda. The young tweener girls in my group immediately lost their heads, screaming and yelling and running all amok, supported by their parents, who then forced me to use my knowledge of Capitol shortcuts and hiding places for evil. They got their picture, but I lost something in the process. After that, I figured, "What's the point?"

I quickly became labeled as "jaded" by our office manager. "He's jaded, he used to be our best but now he ceases to wonder at the grandeur that is DC." So anyways, one day I'm lounging at my desk reading Roll Call when the left lens of my glasses popped out for no reason. Without even pausing to contemplate what had happened, I squinted my left eye and continued reading the article. The office manager saw this whole episode and said, "Wow, that must be your jaded lens." I kind of liked the ring of it.

Gloom

We went so long without rain here in DC that I've forgotten what it's like to be gloomy on a rainy day. I must be solar powered. Days like today are near impossible for me. The root canal stole all of my money and cancelled my trip to my hometown, but I did learn something new about baseball. My jaw hurts like hell and I can't eat my bagels for breakfast anymore. I've already referred to myself as "The Loneliest Boy in the Whole World" twice this morning, forgotten to pack a Portishead CD to combat the gloom, and offended a Congressional staffer.

Here's that conversation:
Me: Hey, I'm Rolfe from the NLD. I just need to update my staff roster for your office.
Her: Oooo-k. I'm going to transfer you to our Deputy Chief of Staff who will help you with that.
Me: *sigh* Ok, whatever.
Her: Is that alright with you?
Me: Well, not really because all you're going to do is send me to her voicemail, I'll leave one, and then she'll never call me back, meaning that I'm just going to have to talk to you again on Monday. What's the point? This whole thing is going to take 4 minutes. Why make it some drawn out process when we're talking 4 minutes here?
Her: Hold on, sir. I'll put her right on the line.

Then, the deputy Chief of Staff:
Her: Sir, we usually just send these out as emails or fax.
Me: Ok, fine. Send it here, blahblahblah@blahblah.com. Take it easy.
*click*

For those in the know, that's probably the rudest I've ever been on the phone, professionally at least. I've tried to get people fired for less. I know my assistants will read that in absolute shock. This is what the rain does to me.

Danville Register Bee | Authorities bust up moonshine operation

(Click the title just above for the link.)

Gotta love my hometown. Axton's right outside of Danville and where my grandpa lived and my mom grew up. Uncle Jesse brewed up 343 gallons, just enough for three trips over the Hazzard Co. line for them Duke boys.

The funniest part about this is growing up listening to my father and my grandfather trading stories about finding stills on their property. My Dad told me once how, when he was a kid, they had to cut down a piece of the woods to make a new field and found the copper pipes from three different stills hidden back there. Of course, those were probably leftovers from the days of Prohibition, back when anybody with a corn crop was up to some sort of alcoholic chemistry. My grandpa once had a friend of his go blind from drinking bad moonshine. It was only temporary but they also used to mix a little moonshine in with their gasoline, just for that "extra kick." These two hill-billies used to show up at his store every now and again with a trunk full of jugs to sell and they'd stink up the whole town. Floating down the Powell River, I've had stills, illegal fields, just about everything pointed out to me. That's just a part of living in the country, I suppose.

Bulletin

*NOTE* I will not be coming to Danville this weekend due to dental surgery bills. However, I will be home the next weekend of Oct. 14th, after I have been paid.

Here's a quote:

"That's why I say it's tough to live holy and resist temptation because those demons get prettier and prettier. Their bodies get better and better. It's one of the toughest fights I've had in my life."
- Carl Everett, White Sox DH

Amen, Carl.