Monthly Archives: December 2003

New Heroes

Can I just list my newest crop of heroes: Scott Ritter, Greg Palast, Karen Kwiatowski and John Stauber. All four are bad-asses putting their reputations on the line to expose the truth behind corporate and government propaganda and scandal.

U. S. Gov’t Bans Ephedra

I’m sure the DEA wants nothing more than another stupid substance to track and have to prosecute. Ephedra has been banned for sale in Illinois for many months now but was still available by mail order – now that is being quashed with a country-wide ban on the popular work-out supplement. I love ephedra – it’s a great kick to add if you’re doing cardio with a workout. I understand that if you take too much of it that it can make you more than a little jumpy and also elevate your heart rate and blood pressure. The deaths that have been attributed to ephedra are largely obese atheletes who are exercising too intensely in extreme heat – people not listening to the cues from their own bodies as it responds with agitation, palpitation and headaches. It’s an herb that used to be brewed into tea for crissakes.

Tweaked out South Park characterWe are a stimulant society. We chainsmoke our way to Starbucks, wolfing down a Twinkie and bitching about how slow people are moving. We pipe constant music and media input into our senses lest we have a spare moment in our waking hours of not being entertained. Every thing is an extreme sport.

Ephedra is effective for leaning out during a fat-loss workout and is just another tool – it can be used and abused. The supplement industry has been anticipating this move for a while now and has already started hawking a whole new arsenal of fat-burners. Like Yohimbe – which I found I’m allergic too – every time I take it I’m not just peppy but downright irritable and my nose runs like I’ve inhaled ragweed.

It just seems like a big waste to spend money and effort to regulate something that, if used as directed, really isn’t a health risk. Just because coaches let their already over-caffeinated athletes exercise in 100 degree summer heat with no hydration doesn’t mean I should be banned from taking one tablet before I climb on to the elliptical trainer in shorts and a shirt in an air conditioned gym.

Back to Blue-Collar?

Andy: I intimated to him that if I was gonna be on the chopping block anytime
soon to let me know ASAP. ‘Welcome to the Gap – are you looking for a certain
size?’
Co-worker: you are funny

Andy: ‘GRANDE LATTE DOUBLE FOAM’
Andy: ‘You’re in theatre 11 – up the staris and to your right’
Andy: I never did get my Subway sandwich certification
when i worked there.
Andy: I quit with 10 hours to go.
Co-worker: you are HILARIOUS

Andy: I could pimp.
Co-worker: i say try out for Second City!
Co-worker: you funny

Andy: I could sell drugs – since I think it’s stupid to do them the supply would
be totally safe.
Co-worker: hee hee
Andy: I know – my beau has a friend in chemistry
– we could start a crystal meth factory!
Andy: okay okay – I’ll leave you alone.

Jeepers Creepers 2

Rented Jeepers Creepers 2 last night. I thought that it was sort of surprising that the script mentions one character as possible homosexual – his nickname is Izzy – short for ‘Is He (or Isn’t He)’ and that might be a slight tip of the assumed maturity of the audience to accept questioning sexuality as a minor plot-point. Plus, the movie had more than a couple shots of smooth, shirtless, hunky football players – but I didn’t think too much of it. At first glance the story of a busload of teenagers being picked off by a monster seemed to maybe, just maybe, echo a commentary on racism as a white and black footballer argue it out. Started poking around online and found a few readings of the film as depicting a ‘gay panic’ – that the Creeper, a winged monster in a black hat and overcoat, represents an older predatory man violating innocents and the guys are trying to figure out who is who. The Creeper winking at each victim and licking the bus’s back door should have tipped me off. Another reviewer notes that for all the beefcake in the movie that the cheerleaders don’t manage to get their clothes off – not like the gaggle of boys sunbathing in their jeans on top of the bus – for a teen horror movie there’s a dearth of titties. Then I read that the director of the film had served over half a three-year sentence for videotaping himself having oral sex with a 12 year old boy (the movie opens with a young boy being snatched up and taken away by the Creeper). I liked the film’s visual quality and the scene where the Creeper just stands outside the bus and stares at the kids is really chilling for it’s length – there’s no suspense and no surprise – just a long series of holding shots on the fanged beastie. Talk about working it all out in your art!

Whitewashing Libya

Fifteen years ago, Susan Cohen’s daughter was killed in the Lockerbie aiplane bombing which was supported by the newly re-Christened dictator Qaddafi. The movements to lift sanctions and bring him back into the world oil game has her cutting to the chase: (on Democracy Now)

We are giving up a possible $6 million [in a victims’s families settlement] because there is no way that the families should be rewarded for that. That is simply blackmail. It shows you what Qaddafi really is. What would that do except buy our silence?

Do you know what I’m talking about when I say that my innocent only child got on an airplane, studying abroad, and was blown out of the sky?

Now you ask yourself about the man who did this.

Milkshake

I’d read the phrase ‘my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard’ in Time magazine and then somewhere online and figured I should learn where it comes from (I don’t listen to the radio anymore). It’s from ‘Milkshake’ on Kelis’s new album Tasty. It’s another one of those songs that has such a great funky, sexed-up, Prince-worthy bass arrangement – but stupid lyrics. For this song – the verses are dumb but the ‘la la la la the boys are waiting’ has a nice edgy sex-worker feel – and the intervals of the melody are fun too. I feel the same about ‘Oops… Oh My!’ by Tweet and Britney’s ‘I’m a Slave 4 U’. All three are great horned-up songs that tap your root chakra but the words behind them betray the lusty pop arrangements. Just like I think that Destiny’s Child’s ‘Survivor’ song had a great melody but that ‘I’m a survivor, I’m gonna make, I’m a survivor, keep on survivin” is just a stupid stanza. If you’re gonna pay the high priced arrangers to do such great music why not hire a better librettist?

I totally just trashed my argument by using the word librettist.