baseball

Earth to Omar Minaya - a trade for Sammy Sosa would be incredibly stupid. Don't do it.

Sorry Robin, but as a New Yorker (and an ex-Pennsylvanian,) currently living in Boston, the ridiculous attempt at cultural theory which is all the red-state/blue-state idiocy aside (another neologism for which we can thank David Brooks - ugh), i can honestly say that New York is pretty cognitively distant from New England. NYC and Boston feel like they're 1000 miles away from each other.



And Josh, Matt Traldi's wry comments strike me as being uncomfortably close to a perverse and desperate sort of slumming. E.g., "i am of the people because i live in the same state as people who mandate the teaching of intelligent design in high schools," or somesuch. With all due respect to Mr. Traldi, this doesn't seem at all useful. Plus, even though i haven't livedin PA since i was eight and a half, i can assure you that there are plenty of reactionaries in New York (which I just argued, isn't New England, so maybe i'm being overly defensive here. But then even the categorization of "New England" seems a bit suspect to me. I mean, Greenwich and Bridgeport are disparate enough without trying to lump them in with Montpelier.

take off that jumpsuit. you look like grace slick

no comment.



I'm finding the resignation coverage depressing. These fascists will just be replaced by other fascists, afer all. And Rummy stays despite Abu Ghraib, with "infinite detention" Gonzales the next AG. Maybe they'll junk Elaine Chao and replace her with John C. Calhoun's dessicated skull.



I can't overemphasize how much i'm liking Thunder, Lightning, Strike. "Panther Dash" and "Ladyflash" together constitute 6 minutes and 54 seconds of pure bliss.



Pitchfork reports that the original (Entertainment/Solid Gold) lineup of Gang of Four have reunited. This will be the first time that Gill, King, Allen, and Burnham have been on stage together since 1981. My first reaction was "well, i hope i don't get sued for the blog title or anything." But i think this is pretty cool (assuming they are doing this for reasons other than cashing in on the recent dancepunk craze.) For more information on Gang of Four, i refer readers to guitarist Andy Gill's website.



The title of this blog entry originates as a line in Camper Van Beethoven's "Turquoise Jewelry." Make of that what you will. I'm going to read some Roth.

addendum to the last post:



If Dylan's a potential assassination plot, what would've happened if they'd decided to go with "Piss On Your Grave" instead?

Boots from The Coup would like to say

I'll shove these foodstamps down your throat

just to block your airway

and that's the fair way 'cuz everyday

you're on a moola mission

military killin' millions 'til you low on

ammunition

bodies beyond recognition

twisted complex positions

then their kids work in your factories

and die of malnutrition

see your net profit stats

hold some murderous facts

but if you listen to the news you mighta

heard it was blacks

you got us herded in shacks

I got the pertinent tax

how 'bout the one for when I bust my ass

and you relax

I'll hit your head wit an axe

play soccer wit' your brain

to make it official

slice your jugular vein

still writin' songs that my momma could sang

and if you feel some yellow drips on your skull

it ain't rain.



(Chorus)

Uhhhh!!

I wanna piss on your grave!

make me feel alright!

Yaa Yaa Yaa!!

(Repeat)

You that build all the guns

You that build the death planes

You that build the big bombs

You that hide behind walls

You that hide behind desks

I just want you to know

I can see through your masks

Worth a secret service investigation, apparently. In other news, Eddie Vedder has been declared an enemy combatant and has been relocated to Gitmo. Bob Taft has issued an arrest warrant for four counts of murder in the first degree against Red Sox outfielder Trot Nixon, and Joe Lieberman cried when they shot Medgar Evers.

You fasten the triggers

For the others to fire

Then you set back and watch

When the death count gets higher

You hide in your mansion

As young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies

And is buried in the mud

I limited my walking this weekend to somewhere around 10 or twelve miles, a far cry from the thirty-plus i've been pulling for the last few weekends in my peregrinations into the northwestern suburbs. I needed a break. Well, actually, what i really needed was to get the fuck out of boston and see friends or family, and i entertained thoughts of either making the trek back to NY or dropping into New Haven for a day, but ultimately did neither. Today i spent several hours working - prior to and at the union meeting, and then again after my lonely dinner at the ethiopian place on treemont, which was prety damn good, but i miss lalibela anyway. The Incredibles, which i saw by myself at the AMC Fenway this afternoon, definitely carried the strong stench of Ayn Randian attempts to ressurect rule by divine right and lambast the liberal consensus as vacuous communists intent on making all the geniuses as mediocre as the rest of us. While the film was on the whole enjoyable, aside from the tortuous moments of preachiness, I'm sure i will regret having read Atlas Shrugged, as i have since before i even completed it, six and a half years ago, for the rest of my life, and i really don't need Disney rehashing it for me and my loved ones in the form of easily digestible pixelized pulp fiction (complete with sam jackson.) That is not to say that i want my cartoons fascistically pure of right wing ideologies - the animated cartoon's ties to imperial circuits of knowledge go back a long, long way and there's a formal(ist) critique of animation to be made as well, though i am too tired and or dumb ot be the one to make it. Maybe i'm just being utopian. but when i am feeling depressed and lonely, sometimes i want a movie that will make me feel good, and when my escapism is tinged with other isms more immanent and more dire, that doesn't happen. But maybe that's just the point, that escapism is not an innocent pursuit or categorized end of cultural production.



Reading Roth's new novel, The Plot Against America, and wishing i'd had the foresight and the money to get the fuck out of here this weekend. Tomorrow dealing with the health inspection records, writing a letter to an elected official, and, I'm sure, the usual bout of self-loathing. Oh yes, and figuring out how the hell i'm applying to graduate school out of the blue in the next four to six weeks.

David Rees: