Bosch on Public Transit

Floozy FAQ Gets Drunker Than Usual, Eats Cheetos

2008-06-24T09:26:00.000-07:00

Christine and I went out to a birthday party one night in rather loud outfits, and returned home with a bag of Cheetos and some Floozy FAQ questions we solicited from other patron's at the bar. I was rendered too drunk too form proper sentences, and opted to repeat the same word over and over again in an attempt at clarity, and Christine was wowed by the convergence of the coloring of our late night snack and her outfit. Clearly something was afoul, and I'd like to think our curious stupor was not brought on by the GIANT bottle of Dogfish Head's Fort that we quickly consumed- no, I blame it on the cheetos.

Please watch the first installment of our most recent filming, and stay away from the Flamin' Hots!

Don't forget to mail new questions to den.webber@gmail.com- it gives us an excuse to live and punish our organs.

Words

2008-06-06T10:48:00.000-07:00

I had to go to the bathroom, and suddenly the fragment "a prodigious shit" popped into my head. What a wonderful combination of words, but what would a prodigious shit be- what would be the experience of said shit? Is it's prodigiousness measured in size, volume, or some other criteria? Why the hell is something this foul entering my brain, the reasoning of absurd scatological word pairings?
"A prodigious shit"
It could also work as a fun description of a person. I should like at some point in my life to meet a scrapper who I could easily sum up as a "prodigious shit". Looking back, I'm sure that I've met a few.

Last night, Grant said that he was "fucking splendid". "What a cute adjective", I replied, "I haven't heard that in a while." "Yeah it's great", he said, "but I only like to use it with something profane- dirty it up a bit." "Good call. Splendid on its own would be a bit too twee." nI'm surprised I don't use the word more often- it's a very "me" adjective, if, in fact, an adjective can be a "me adjective".
Somehow this devolved into a chat about getting the word "splendid" tattooed on your forehead, but suffering massive burns on your face or having a dog chew off your nose, leaving "splendid" permanently snarking at your fleshy facial misfortune in a suspended state of unsettling sick corporeal humor.
"Splendid!"

On the train I watched an overweight middle school girl play fighting rather aggressively with several male classmates on their way home. Clearly this was a result of the failure of language, the impossibility of communication between these kids- a punch instead of a flirt. The boy will hold her hand only when he is restraining her surprisingly hard blows, a touch that otherwise would not happen.
I imagine two well dressed people sitting having a conversation in which what wants to be said is never said- a confession or a plea is whitewashed by tersely breezing through the mundane. Suddenly the pair start violently pummelling each other, and are somehow more satisfied for it, even though the proper words are not spoken.

Possible Histories: A Chain Reaction Leading to The Latest in an Unending Barrage of Video Series from a Mister Dennis M. Webber

2008-06-04T11:59:00.001-07:00

Ok kids, my ex saw this amazing movie/short/thing on Turner Classic Movies, and had to send it to me and my pals.

Apparently it might have been me in a past life, which I wouldn't shrug off, because it was sort of what my parents wished I had been as a child, since I was a youngin' gifted with the precious gift of song.
Anyway, this video intersected with my love for this flickr account that has heaps of old French paper toys you can print out, and my work boredom, which frequently results in my printing and assembling these chintzy wonders (much to the confusion and amusement of my coworkers). This intersection collided with my Moleskine notebook, and resulted in this super amazing diorama:

So this diorama, which I think elicited even more curious stares from my coworkers (the image of toy soldiers gunning down an oversize child starlet is totally not weird at all!), collided with the tail end of a marijuana high, which resulted in the creation of the following video and new AMAZING VIDEO SERIES from yours truly, called POSSIBLE HISTORIES! Watch and enjoy!

New Birthday Floozy & Dennis' Enchanted Evening With Marc Jacobs' Butt Boy

2008-05-24T07:45:00.000-07:00

Christine and I turned 23, threw a party, and filmed a new episode of FLOOZY FAQ!

Enjoy, and don't forget to send in new questions to den.webber@gmail.com

In other news...

It's IML in Chicago this week, which I was completely clueless about. My queries for my queer brethren asking what the hell "IML" is, were met with a sort of "if you have to ask, you'll never know" attitude. Finally, I learned that the rather sterile sounding "IML" is an anagram for International Mister Leather, which is basically a giant fetish beauty pagent.

Imagine Living Dolls with a lot more grunting, and a cowhide smell in the air...

Anyway, this curious competition brings all sorts of queer riff-raff to this town, including good ol' Erik Rhodes, who I wrote about recently. I saw the sad porn star mess while I was out at a bar last night, and proceeded to flap at my friends to direct their attention to the massive orange skinned dude in the corner.
"It's Erik Rhodes!"
My cry was met by a gaggle of confused faces.

You know, this dude.

"He's the porn star dude who was fucking Marc Jacobs- I've skinned off to him like a million times?" -a statement that confirmed that I probably spend too much much time checking gossip sites and watching porn.

My friends still had no clue who he was. "I only watch amateur", chirped a cronie. "Yeah x tube is heaven", piped another. And then they all proceeded to babble about grainy home porn, while my eyes remained stuck on Rhodes. I had to say something to him- I mean he has helped me through some rough times, his blog is a fascinating trainwreck, and he totally schtupped Marc Jacobs, how could I not pick this dude's brain for a second...as much as you can pick somebody's brain when you've had a few too many manhattans and you're in a loud crowded gay bar.

But just like that, Rhodes vanished- rushed away by a gaggle of twinks!

I returned to my group, who were still chatting it up about the glories of self-produced porn, and commenced my evening. But my chances for a mini-interview with Rhodes were not spoiled! While walking around later in the evening, I spotted him at a corner table being swarmed by a bunch of twinks who were probably looking to share diseases with him after the bar closed. I grabbed my friend by the hand, looked him in the eye with a curious manhattan fueled fire and said, "We're having a conversation with Erik Rhodes!"

With said friend in tow, I charged over to Rhodes' table breaking through the wall of gelled hair pretty boys to the man-mess himself, and offered my hand.

"You're an inspiration."

"Uh, thanks?"

"I'm Dennis and this is my friend Nick."

"I'm Dean." (or dan or something...I forgot which name he used, but he used a fake name or a real name...who knows with porn stars)

Dude was actually quite nice, very genial, down to earth- it was sort of like talking to the benevolent high school QB, who happens to like it up the butt.

We asked him what brought him to Chicago, and he said he was here for IML, which he's been coming to for a while, "I got nominated six times, and I still haven't won anything!" To which my friend quipped "You're like the Susan Lucci of leather." He just looked at us with a vacant smile, "who's that?" So Nick and I, who were pretty surprised that he knew nothing of the spurned soap star, told him all about Susan Lucci.
Then he told me, "You remind me of my friend Cazwell!"

I'm not sure if being linked to a bratty gay rapper is for me, but whatever...

This spiraled into me mentioning that I love Amanda Lepore, who's in Cazwell's music videos and he told some Amanda stories, which somehow made me want to talk about Leigh Bowery, but for some reason I couldn't remember his name. After trying to remember his name I gave up...and henceforth gave up on Erik Rhodes. What else was left to discuss? His stellar performances? I didn't dare ask him about the Marc Jacobs stuff, for fear that he'd deck me... What does one chat about with a porn star?

He smiled and said "I'm really drunk."
"Me too" I chimed, and scurried away.

It was sort of amusing, but not as funny of as a recent hello I had with Pulitzer Prize winning composer David Lang after a Chicago Symphony contemporary music concert. I approached the wee composer and said:

To which he replied:

Thank you, David, thank you...

Ubiquitous Bedding: Grappling with the Complexities of the Universe Via Petty Plagiarism and Ikea Omnipresence

2008-05-17T09:34:00.000-07:00

My brain is melting after watching the universe fold onto itself like a neverending oragami piece in the latest episode of Pot Psychology.

Please note the convergence...

Although, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to see that bedding given that I've seen the same duvet cover on ANTM, Project Runway, and I've heard its on some other reality trash. But it's like a strange collision taking place- the show Christine and I basically copied, mirroring us with featured home decor...has a new dimension opened up? I don't understand....

Does this mean choice is defunct in the modern consumer world? My unique sleepytime experience is in fact a grand nothing? Am I thus closer with Tracie "Slut Machine" Egan? Do I have the same dreams as Top Model Fatima when I enter my REM cycles?

My head is spinning- I think I need to go lie down on my mass produced linens...

NEW URBAN ADVENTURES: THE CRP

2008-05-11T12:14:00.000-07:00

The Chicago River Project

On a day in the summer of 2008, a small number of explorers will converge early in the morning at the spot where the Chicago River meets Lake Michigan. From there they will explore the river and the areas surrounding its banks by making a trek on foot away from the river’s ending toward its unseen origin. These curious journeyers will document their voyage in whatever way they see fit, noting whatever details, large or small, that strike them. For the moment the structure of this project will remain relatively open; the constants are simple: the day, the intent of discovery, and the river.The results of this expedition will culminate in an exhibition, performance, or some other form of presentation that will best represent the work that results from the participants’ observations.

Please email me at den.webber@gmail.com let me know if you are interested in taking part in this project or know anybody else who might be as well.

LATEST FLOOZIES

2008-05-11T10:46:00.000-07:00

Here are the two latest episodes of Floozy FAQ.

Floozies tackling animal issues:

Floozies solving the restless leg mystery:

Be sure to send in new questions to den.webber@gmail.com so we can give you the bestest birthday edition of Floozy FAQ EVER!

James Pants Presents: Italo Disco Surprise!

2008-05-03T10:01:00.000-07:00

The super wonderful Stone's Throw podcast just put up a swell eclectic mix from recent no-so-hip-hop signee James Pants. Like most people, I had never heard of Mr. Pants before, but I'm totally jumping on this hype-wagon. Frankly, after three years of hotly anticipating the new Jamie Lidell album and being really really really underwhelmed by its offerings (Portishead, however, totally wins the long wait payoff album of the month with 3), the promise of a new electronics-whiz-soul-singing-nerdboy who can deliver something exciting that's not a giant ball of Stevie Wonder pastiche instills a drop of musical hope and excitement into my heart. Also, please note that he is the whitest whiteboy ever and he shares a label with madlib! Madlib!
This dude:

HE'S IN A WOODEN TEEPEE!

I'd venture to say that this is the most exciting signing ST has done since they brought their first lady on board, the very very talented Georgia Anne Muldrow (why haven't you listened to her yet?).

And boy does he deliver (in that whiteboy making r&b in his bedroom kind of way)- LISTEN TO SOME TUNES:

Check out the downtown81 conga shuffle prom of "I Think We're Through"

Listen to this bit of Andre-3000-goes-to-a-wobbly-underwater-mall called "Kash"

I'm officially sold.

I hope you are too.

But, what really sold me before I even heard his own tunes was his inclusion of this song in his podcast mix:

Ok, I need you to close your eyes, listen, and pretend you never saw Giorgio Moroder and his stache-o-kings while you listen to this song, and subsequently fall to your knees, head over heels in love with it. It's like somebody sucked the strings out of a Kelley Polar song, and stuck in a whole lot of awesomeness. Before looking up the playlist, I could not stop repeating this song, thinking it was some gem from some new up and coming myspace darlings...

I was wrong.

Very wrong.

This bit of shuffling wonder came from the one and only poppa Georgio!

SURPRISE!

Anyway, this bit of mix-trickery only makes me love James Pants even more! Thank you James Pants! Thank you for your awesomeness! I hope you stay dry in your wooden teepee!

The Magic, The Pain, and The Itch of Youth Theater

2008-04-30T22:03:00.000-07:00

Does anybody remember that odd trend in popular 90s cinema, where a movie would open or close with some inspiring school/kid-ful musical/stage performance? I believe it had something to do with the wild success of Sister Act (or maybe it was just a product of that culture wave?), featuring crowd pleasing musical numbers that managed to evoke this mythical spectatorial joy in which the audience is gratified by the performer's joy in production as well as the simple pleasure of song. It's a manipulative storytelling gesture, because these scenes either come at the gooey introduction of a film or at the height of its narrative catharsis at the end- and don't forget the sweeping shots across the players to swirl these multiple joys in a cinematographic tilt-a-whirl, enciting both inexplicable giddiness and a feeling like one could vomit up a pound or so of cotton candy.

Watch this shit and tell me that you didn't get a whiff of elephant ears at 1.35.

Anyway, at some point this generic scene had a lot of kids dropped in it and was sold as a new uplifting and nauseating moment, the inspirational/magical kiddy show performance!

Ah magic!
Some suit/evil screenwriter/hackneyed took this formulaic moment and crash landed it in the elementary school auditorium. Sappy kiddieshow moments are cerainly nothing new (old musicals abound with this shit), but as any veteran of the forced school production knows, the shit that wound up in these movies couldn't be further from the awkward unprofessional slopfest that makes up some musical reivew based on past presidents of or Halloween chintz.
You may have seen this clip I posted earlier from homo-lite stinkfest The Object of My Affection:

Ok.

Gross.

Apart from the overwhelming amount of insincerely sincere sacchrine sentimental trashy terrible overload brought on by the adults (I can forgive Paul Rudd because he's soooo cute and inexiplicably endearing even when he's playing an asshole/obliquely making fun of the gays with his "gay dancing" in this clip), there is a whole load of horse shit going on with the kids on stage. Have you ever seen this many kids excited to sing a song for their obnoxiously supporitve families (who apparently need to learn how to be respectful audience memebers...get a load of those endless cheers)? The answer is no...or if you have you went to some kiddie performance camp. Congrats.
The real tell is that kid who pops up around the 40 second mark, who simply cannot conceal his enthusiasm for the literal choreography.

If this moment were real this kid would be standing there bored as hell or with outward defiance of his forced performance. This is probably a more appropriate image:

Now that we set that record straight, I do have to give them credit for keeping something real- that cute little rodent of a girl who hops out to give her solo, which sends Jennifer Aniston on a joygasm she probably hasn't equaled since that very moment. That girl is totally the annoying chipmunk voiced overachieving performer that eveybody in the class totally hates. She gets the parts with the most lines, she gets to do her dumb solo in the desiree song, and Paul Rudd tooooootally loves her. Most kids hated this kind of girl, not so much out of jealousy (like her mom would have her believe), but because she is super annoying and her infantile voice makes your eardrums want to overdose on muzak to kill the pain it inflicts.

Regardless, I don't think anybody has been to such a disgustingly falsely uplifting kiddie review such as this.

Although I must admit, dear readers, that this bit is nothing...things can get a whole lot worse...a whoooole lot worse....

Ok, so this opening clip from Toys isn't actually a depiction of a school production, but it's basically the creepy uncle to that trend. I guess this is supposed to warm your cold heart for the holiday season, but it just makes me feel inexplicably uncomfortable...The tree singers? The dumb Wendy and Lisa song? The reindeer humping at 1.28? What the hell is going on?!?! This has to be stopped!

Finally I wanted to prove a point that Hollywood would also stir up the laughable fantasy that school productions had enormous budgets to lavish on extravagent sets and lighting, like the performance of Peter Pan at the beginning of the movie Hook, but I cannot find a clip of that scene on youtube. So I'll make it up to you by showing you the most nauseating moment of movie song EVER featured in that movie.

Ughhhhhhhhhhhhh.
Something tells me this consistently flat breathy nightmare of a pixie might be related to nasaly jumpy pants from the Desiree clip.

So where am I going with this?
Well, an old teacher of mine sent me a DVD of a musical version of Treasure Island that my 8th grade class did. Re-watching this video made me recall all these lousy aformentioned clips, and how in actuality kiddie performances are mostly awkward low budget marathons of generally unenthusiastic youngsters powering through pieces of performance poo.
I'll be throwing together a few videos detailing the uncomfortable product of sticking a bunch of pimply mid-adolescents in pirate outfits and making them sing to a midi back track.
Before I dish out the pain, I decided to make a nice homage both to the stage magic of my youth and this terrible cinematic trend...sort of a heartwarming intro before the embarrassed tears begin to fall.

BEHOLD, NARRATIVE CATHARSIS! PEG LEGS!

You Gotta Be Bad...Bad At Regularly Updating Your Blog...

2008-04-25T12:29:00.001-07:00

I'm sorry, blog. I've been sort of a deadbeat dad to you lately. I've been busy, overworked, broken down, and partying too much to really give you much thought. So I figure I can make it up to you with a brief life lesson, before I can actually be a good e-parent.

Ok, kiddo...This is what its like when the mid-nineties blows an enourmous load all over your face:

I hope you have a wet nap on your person...

Get Floozed.

2008-04-18T14:17:00.000-07:00

Behold! The newest installment of Floozy FAQ!

Got problems?
Mail them to den.webber@gmail.com

Alternative Musicology: Screwy Music History From Bosch on Public Transit

2008-04-11T12:33:00.001-07:00

A few months ago I attended a concert at the Chicago Symphony with a friend, and Shostakovitch's second cello concerto was on the program. The piece is intense, using the solo cello as a representation of a semi-autobiographical figure weaving through a Russia reconstructed through memories. After a pretty tortured first and second movement, the third movement is an curious amalgam of mini-themes and musical bits that interrupt each other in an endless hunt for a cadence. Occasionally the orchestra would break from a heavy string passage to this thumping 4/4 beat accompanied by heavy bass backing and a tambourine hitting the off-beats. This enormous musical shift made my friend and I suddenly turn and look at each other- it sounded so modern, so out of place, so much like...hip hop? Could that be? Was this some practical joke? But the theme came back again, with the same familiar sound balance and stomp that sounded like it came from an old De La Soul album. I finally picked up a recording of this baffling piece, and was compelled to share this curious passage with the world in order to prove that Shostakovitch invented hip hop.
Enjoy-

A Shot of Floozy FAQ

2008-04-08T16:37:00.000-07:00

Here's a mini episode made from the second taping session of FLOOZY FAQ tackling the sensitive subject of lisps.

Quite moving, no?
Listen kids, we're low on questions for the new episode- so you fuckers better get some problems and mail more questions to den.webber@gmail or we'll be sad and poor this April (we do get paid for this you know...).

Taft Wasn't Just a President- It Was Also Precious

2008-04-03T12:08:00.000-07:00

Behold, blog readers! The most amazing piece of uintentional video art ever made!

The background music, the bizarre metaphor, the masterfully modern framing, the name (my GOD, the name)- Precious Taft was an undiscovered 80s gem.

Natural Histories: Eating Habits in the Everglades

2008-04-02T13:00:00.000-07:00

According to a report from BBC news, a non-native python exploded while eating a whole alligator in the Florida Everglades. This story is super-dear to my heart- a tale of gluttony and grotesque animal interactions set in the hinterland of my homeland, sweet sweet Florida. Plus, the snapshot of the carnage totally looks like a metal album cover.

Pretty hardcore, right? The gator got posthumous revenge and RIPPED RIGHT THROUGH THAT FUCKER!

Gator sightings are nothing unusual for me- we once had a wee gator take a dip our pool at home, you can see them on every Florida golf course, and once a good family friend was called in by the police to identify an alligator she saw while running that later attacked and killed an old man (really, I'm not joking. Alligator homicide is the real deal in the F-L-A).

This little bit of BBC "badassery in nature" is actually a bit distressing though; it is actually a hardcore Aesop fable for the ecological shitstorm of modern times. The truth is that the pythons of the Everglades are only there because the serpent pets of hick kids in the Florida swamps got loose- they were never there before- that's yet another unfortunate imbalance in an ecosystem that's suffering from all the fucked up things the state government allows to happen to the 'glades. The news story is basically a mini-metaphor for the encroachment on swampy wonderland. I remember when I used to travel with my family to visit my grandmother from the West to the East coast along "Alligator Alley", a long highway that cuts through the state which gets its name for the reptiles that litter the swamps on the sides of the roads, I would pass the time on the drive by counting each alligators I saw- it was a long-ass drive. Now, crossing the state a lot of that gator land has been lost to new shitty Florida housing developments and other insta-build shitholes. It's actually pretty sad to see your home state go from a fucked up paradise to a fucked up stripmall due to the appetite of the proverbial python of "progress".

Perhaps once the endtimes come (so soon!) the gators will burst from our bellies and reclaim their homeland. In the meantime, I suppose people on those terrible touristy airboats should be more afraid of falling into the water and getting swallowed by a snake than getting chomped by an alligators.

Qui Etes Vous, Floozy FAQ Episode 2?

2008-04-02T11:08:00.001-07:00

Part One of Episode 2 is finally here! Rejoice!

The second part will be coming soon.
Keep mailing your problems to den.webber@gmail.com- we're here to help.

Also! I promise I'll be doing some more serious updating on here soon. I feel like a deadbeat braindead dad to this blog.
I promise I'll make it better, son...I promise...

In the meantime I have to share my EXPLOSIVE EXCITEMENT over the upcoming criterion release (the first ever on DVD in the US...with Mr. Freedom too!!!) of classic 60's fashion satire, QUI ETES VOUS POLLY MAGOO!

I have been waiting for this moment for aaaaaaages. Please have a sneak peak at the opening scene in which French society ladies marvel at a mod mod modern "fashion" show featuring girls wearing what looks to be mangled slides from a playground-

Qui Etes Vous...is one of those films that manages to both subvert the fashion scene of its time while also being undeniably fresh and chic on its own terms.

Oooh oooh oooh Polly Magoo!
I'll be sure to put on my face when I go out and buy you!

The Good Moment Monday

2008-03-31T18:51:00.000-07:00

Recent mailings for The Good Moment from Megan-

1. Adieu Fair Sailor

2. Grave Neighbors

3. The Final Romper

It's really quite exciting receiving these mystery mailings, and it's also great to see that somebody else has started sending out pictures.

Megan gets a gold star- and what great finds, too!

Email me at den.webber@gmail.com if you wish to join The Good Moment.

The Good Moment- New Items

2008-03-29T08:46:00.001-07:00

Here are the latest pictures sent out for The Good Moment:

1. Graduation

2. Bulgaria

3. Math Teacher Misses Man

4. Fashion Police in Greece

Hope you had a GOOOOOD MOMENT!
Email me at den.webber@gmail.com if you want to join the fun.

Ailing Frozen Hunk-Schnitzel: Gay Porn Star Blog Review (will this turn into a series?) and Scary German Foodstuffs

2008-03-28T12:55:00.000-07:00

Some of you may have heard of Eric Rhodes from various Marc Jacobs Gossip Reports or from a steady diet of gay porn (guess which camp I fall into). The hunky porno prince got a little spot on Gawker today, in which he received a wee bit o' pity from the site after being mocked in the prime of Jacobs-gate- giving him a sad hunk grunt status in their eyes. I suppose picking up a meth habit, a word weary outlook on life, and a heap of porno-regret is a surefire way to turn your 15 minute moonlight in Page Six, into a Dickensian dick filled shoddy redemption tale. I wish I could look at his blog with the same puppy dog eyes, but the onslaught of sex and drug fueled tales, which read like a sloppy high school dropout Edmund White, and amusing bits of unintentional hilarity leave me out of the pity party. And frankly, I feel that the urge to leave any encouragement in a comment or have a teardrop for him in my heart is probably just linked to my long running desire to bone him. Regardless the peculiarity of the super-voyeurism inherent in reading a porn star's blog has become my proverbial meth addiction on my afternoon of interneting.

Some of the amusing gems contained on Rhodes' recent entries are as follows:

He models for Loehmann's?

Rants about the porn industry and how it's sucked the life out of him are followed by exciting listings of his Grabby Porn Award nominations including:

"BEST RIMMING SCENE"

It's a vicious cycle, people...

His recent lovelorn posts are not about Jacobs, no, no, no; he is heartbroken over his recent ex Danny Dias from MTV's Road Rules/Gauntlet/Inferno/Battle for Dignity/Oh God Why Did We Do This Show Battle. Do you remember him? This little plucky shit-

I don't know if you used to be addicted to those shows as much as I was, but if you didn't get the pleasure of seeing his infantile visage assaulting you from your TV, I must tell you that he was one of the most ANNOYING PEOPLE EVER ON MTV- which is, frankly, quite a fear since the dawn of The Hills. I hunted everywhere on the internet to find a video of him pitching a hissy, just so you could see HOW FUCKING OBNOXIOUS he was, but alas I have failed. He is so terrible that people wanted to erase him from the collective memory and keep him off of youtube.

If this twink o' terror spawned by MTV reality shows is your salvation from drugs and rimming awards, this, THIS is your true tragedy Erik Rhodes.

The melodrama of his life-on-blog is enhanced by a soundtrack of Rhodes selected songs, which have the same deliciously terrible effect as an Evanescence song backing a tween show from a few years ago. The pain curated for our ears only makes his life seem that much more painful.
Perhaps you should pick up some Galaxie 500, Erik? Maybe that might change everything...

Still, it's pretty sad to see somebody spiral downward. BUT HASN'T ANYBODY LEARNED ANYTHING FROM PORNSTARS PAST/BOOGIE NIGHTS!?!

Why do these people have to start blogs and make me feel bad about my masturbation habits? I guess that's another case for amateur...

MOVING ON!

Some image algebra:

Martin Parr

Processed Foods

Germany

This amazing site, in which a German dude compares the images of processed preprepared German foods to the rather disgusting reality.

"Hey! When did my 'Seehecht Filet' turn into my hangover face?!?"

It's actually a semi-brilliant/disconcerting look on how packaging can be a distraction from how FUCKING DISGUSTING contemporary packaged foods can be.

Yech.

I wonder what Balut packaging would be like!

"Oh, this place looks cute!"

"OH GOD, NO!"

Happy Friday!

FLOOZY FAQ - EPISODE ONE PART DEUX

2008-03-24T22:05:00.000-07:00

Floozy FAQ is officially everybody's favorite new internet show. This shit's hotter than Chris Crocker. This shits hotter than prisoners dancing to "Thriller". This shit's hotter than Al Gore...

Anyway, here is the second part of our debut episode. I warn you now- it's ten times more raunchy than the last one...

The next episode will be coming soon, but we need you to keep us going. Send your burning questions to den.webber@gmail.com, and help out two hot drunk things.
...two hot drunk things that WON'T QUIT!

FLOOZY FAQ - THE DEBUT!

2008-03-23T18:45:00.000-07:00

That's right chickadees! The moment you've been waiting for is here! Now! On your internets!
Christine and Dennis got schwasties on Easter Eve and tried their best to answer the questions that have been troubling you do deeply. We had SO much to say, so I'll be releasing this episodes in two segments. Here is the first action packed installment for your enjoyment!

Did you cream your pants? I know I did.
Now buy me a beer.

Little Bits

2008-03-22T09:44:00.000-07:00

Good Food, one of my favorite podcasts that doesn't do good for my unending desire to stuff my face, has started doing a new little segment in which host Evan Kleimen assigns the show's culinary challenged sound engineer, Bob Carlson, recipes to try at home.

The first challenge, asparagus and a fried egg, is documented in a video on the online episode overview, which you need to see not because Carlson's kitchen trials are particularly interesting, but because of his mad genius daughter who appears in the final 15 seconds and steals the show.
While eating the results of his labor, his yound daughter blurts out very matter of factly, "Should I be a mystery fish?", and stares at the camera with a cold glare while eating an asparagus spear- a look that seems to scream "THIS GIRL IS DESTINED TO BECOME A FANTASTIC ECCENTRIC NOVELIST!". It made my hour...

Also on that review is a mini gallery of the work of a woman who makes SCULPTURES OUT OF CHEESE! FOR MONEY! AND SHE'S THIN!

Perhaps you should pick up a food hobby today...

FLOOZY FAQ IS COMING

2008-03-20T21:52:00.001-07:00

I hope you kiddos are familiar with the lovely Pot Psychology series over at Jezebel. Well, my good friend Christine (who gives sober advice/commentary on the Chicago dating scene at Love Me or Date Me) and I will be doing our own little version of that segment on this blog with the aid of a legal mind altering substance- lady liquor.

Do you need advice about boys? Body hair? Pest control? Air fresheners?
Send in your questions to den.webber@gmail.com straight away! We will be taping our first segment Friday evening, and we need your neediness to keep the good advice flowing.
HELP YOUR FRIENDS WHO NEED HELP WITH YOUR NEED FOR SELF HELP!
Stay tuned. Stay sober.

Don't Forget to Use Me!

2008-03-20T13:57:00.000-07:00

Hey kids! Don't forget to keep those objectification recommendations coming in!

SOOOOOOOOO TASTY!

The Good Moment: Round 1

2008-03-20T07:59:00.001-07:00

You may or may not remember my mentioning of a blossoming project called The Good Moment way back in this post (unfortunately the Crucifixland mystery still has yet to be solved- C'mon people! I thought you were all bigger Nancy Drews than you really are). Anyway, now that the US postal system has worked its magic and delivered the introductory stage of the project, I can tell you in full what all this nonsense is about.

The Good Moment is basically a weird version of a fictional penpal network, in which people will find pictures taken by strangers, write a note on the back of the image as one of the people in the snapshot/somebody who has something to do with the photo, and finally mail the picture to another person in The Good Moment mailing network. Those notes and pictures will be scanned in and documented on this website, and if things progress nicely, hopefully its own website in the future. Here are the scans of what was sent out in the introductory round:

1: The Invitation/Rulebook

2: Denise's Safari

3: Debbie's School Portrait

4: Diane's Orthodontics

5: Maxine's Bridal Blowout

6: Frances' Babysitting Woes

7: Sisters Roughing It

8: Susan's Last Picture

Shoot me an email at den.webber@gmail.com with your address if you're interested in becoming a part of The Good Moment. I'll mail you out your first photo (sort of like doing one of those Sally Struthers help-a-kid programs) so you can get started.

Keep the dream alive!

SPACE MERMAIDS: In Which Dennis Makes a Video Gem!

2008-03-18T09:10:00.000-07:00

So, I do a little music making in my spare time every now and then, and in a fit of boredom was compelled to work on some new songs the other day. I wound up laying the groundwork for a mock prog rock song, and wound up taking the track down a weird sound story path. I wish I could say I was on drugs when I made it, but alas I was sober as a sparrow. I blame it's peculiarity on the fact that none of my roommates were in the house, leading to a complete lack of self consciousness about making strange spaced out fruity voices.
Anyway, what I'm getting at is that I took that strange little audio bon bon and turned it into an even stranger video, which you can see right here:

Oh dear...
No, I do not masquerade as a busty space ho in my spare time- those images were found from typing "space mermaids" into Google image search. I didn't know what to expect to pop up...the very idea of them popped out of the stream of consciousness nonsense that filtered through my head while recording... I wondered, "could I be the only freak who is haunted by such curious beings?". The answer is, sort of...
I found this sad gem of a site, in which a chick name Natalia Zelmanov documents her adventures in Second Life as a mermaid, which seemed to be the perfect video match for my piece of audio dynamite.
But really? A site documenting your travels in Second Life?

Oh god...

That's about as pathetic as posting weird videos you make in fits of boredom on a lonely afternoon, right?
Oh...yeah...

The Camera Whore's Dillema: Butts and Norwegians (NSFW if You Work At Lame Places That Don't Allow Dicks on Your Computer Screen)

2008-03-17T13:37:00.000-07:00

I smell something exciting coming! That something is a hybrid Butt and jersey cotton!
No, no, no! Not some used skivvies! It's the chance to be in an American Apparel ad in Butt Magazine!
Apparently you can send in an image for an ad to Butt before the end of May, and they'll be selecting one of the entries to be an ad in the summer issue of the homo rag. It sort of seems like a good PR move for Dov (who apparently isn't hated and skeeved out by all of his models), amid all this sexual harassment bruhaha. I imagine Dov positioned behind his desk/shrine to Terry Richardson (with an extra set of legs popping out on the floor) saying:

"Let's push some of the cottony exploitation on the homos! And we'll have them take the pictures themselves. God I'm a genius! Bring in the cocaine girl- yeah, the one in the gold leggings!"

What can I say, I'm a sucker for Butt and a deep v (in warm weather I use my chest hair like an assault weapon on the unassuming public), so I just can't say "no" to this proposal. I've always wanted to be in Butt Magazine (it's the final payoff in my dreams of becoming famous), and I could always use a $300 dollars worth of free t-shirts, hoodies, and hotpants...Jesus, I've never been so ready to exploit myself.

Dear Butt and American Apparel- I want to be your ho! I want to be your hairy clotheshorse! Just tell me how!

I know that something like this picture taken in a tipsy fit with my friend Christine would not fly:

While I am indeed wearing nothing but American Apparel in this image, some things are clearly just not right for the assignment.
Let's rundown the issues, ok?
1) The girl needs to get out- Butt has no room for ladies.
2) The Mickey hat, while charming, would not make the Disney suits happy if they saw in a magazine full of exposed cock.
3) What the hell is up with my face?
4) The background of the picture should be more minimal- Butt and AA hardly ever have a lot of fuss going on in their picture (unless its body hair).
5) THERE IS NO NUDITY/TEASING VIEWS OF NAUGHTY BITS!

My main conundrum is this- do I go traditionally sexy or a little freaky for Butt? After all a single photo spread for them can range from this:
...to this:
...which only complicates matters more. Basically, this shows that I could do something pretty run-of-the-mill, me in a shirt and some briefs just looking scruffy in attractive OR get a closeup of my balls hanging out of some shiny gold hotpants. Regardless, whatever path I go it has to be the BEST (there's so much at stake...) and it also has to be a little dirty. After all, this is a publication where even text only ads are pretty filthy.
See:
So this is where you fine readers come in. We're going to play a game called "Let's Pretend To Be A Gay Dov Charney", in which you post a comment or shoot me an email naming a position and an article of clothing and I get to be your little photo whore so I can be a photo whore for thousands of gay men across the globe- hopefully your suggestions will help me win the title of sad sad jersey cotton clad homosexual of the year and a spot in Butt. This will basically be the closest I'll ever get to becoming a sex worker, but it's in the name of superb queer publications and free clothes so I'm ok with it. Has my soul been tarnished? I don't want to think about it...

While looking for some inspiro I found the blog of Marcelo Krasilcic, who took some pictures for the winter issue of Butt. His pictures are pretty amusing. He seems to have a fixation on brightly colored plasticine objects, which he makes into childish monsters:...or uses to frame a bevy of attractive models:
The images aren't life changing or anything, but they're quite fun and very chic. Check out his site- its worth a brief gander.

And finally!
I'm excited to announce that Hanne Hukkelberg will be performing in Chicago at Schuba's tonight!
She's a total gem from Norway! I suggest you check out her music now.
In fact, why not start here? Here's a really lovely animated music video for her song "A Cheater's Armoury":

I'll be posting pictures from the concert soon. Hopefully I'll get to shake her hand and touch one of her magical music bottles.

Untill then...

WE'RE GETTING VIRAL...LIKE HERPES!

2008-03-16T20:51:00.000-07:00

That headline was totally uncalled for. Regardless, here's some special news...in VIDEO FORM!

That's right! Bosch on Public Transit is joining the 21st century youthquake and will soon be doing some video blogging. (It's also a nice excuse for a lack of motivation to write things)

I hope you managed to keep it in your pants...

CAUTION! PROBLEMATIC CUTOUTS!

2008-03-11T07:56:00.000-07:00

US Government border sign designer...

...now masquerading as a much tamer latino Kara Walker?

Now I'm beginning to wonder why she hasn't taken on signage...

And on a completely unrelated note...

When did Chevy Chase turn into such a FUCKING OLD MAN!?!?

Antiquing, CRUCIFIXLAND, The Good Moment (A Preview), Found Photos, and Finally Some Goddamn Music to Download!

2008-03-09T12:33:00.000-07:00

Today I decided to battle against my Sunday afternoon hangover (not the worst hangovers, but certainly the ones that turn into a day of complete inactivity) and run out to get some coffee and browse through my neighborhood's best antique store, an overcluttered musty den full of many hidden gems.
I found a bunch of lovely old silk scarves, which I bought on an impulse (of course now I have no idea what to do with them- wearing them in public might be a little much...).

I might have kickstarted an early descent into old-queendom with this purchase... Please pray for me.

While browsing through the heaps of old photos they have there I found some snaps of what might be the scariest/most fascinating landmark ever- CRUCIFIXLAND!

Isn't that INSANE? I have no idea what this curious collection is all about or where it is. Have any of you heard about a giant garden of crucifixes existing anywhere? This place NEEDS to be featured in some sort of horror movie or somber sweeping road film. To be honest, I was sort of spooked by this place- even though it's a Jesus campground, that place screams "COME HERE AND YOU WILL BE CURSED!". Can you imagine the person who actually decided to put the thing together? There was a whole series of photos of this elderly couple at the site, and the images of them lurking around the area makes it seem even more ominous.

"BEWAAAAAARE!"

I'm praying somebody knows the story behind Crucifixland. In the meantime, I'll be doing some sleuthery to see if I can find out anything about the place...

I also bought a bunch of other old random photographs, which will become part of a project called The Good Moment I'll start documenting on here.
Here's a sneak preview...

I'll explain more about the project later in the week when phase one of THE GOOD MOMENT is complete (this sounds so exciting). Once it's up and kicking you'll actually be able to get involved and get special things delivered to your door if you'd like, which might be the coolest thing ever.

Anyway, I now leave you with a link to a very very very cool site called Square America. It's an online collection of found photographs, that features some pretty stunning candids. They group the pictures by categories and actual photo series- they're a fascinating glimpse into mid 20th century America and ripe for story building around the unknown faces that populate the images.

There are kids in crazy costumes.

There is a series of photos from a bi-sexual romper party.

I highly recommend that you check out the site.

And just to make your day that much more special, I've uploading a kitschy piece of musical candy for your lovely ears-
The Terry Baxter Orchestra - "Are You There (With Another Girl)?"

Cheers!

An Afternoon of Brunette Dimwittery and Far Too Easy Gossip

2008-03-08T11:42:00.000-08:00

So I'm sure if you're as addicted to the online celebu-gossip blog phantasmagoria as I am (god, why hasn't there been a tragic movie made about this kind of addiction yet?), you've already stumbled across the latest tidbit about Amy Winehouse's vodka snorting. Honestly, after seeing videos of her smoking crack is this really newsworthy? Isn't Miss Amy indulging in some combination of mind altering substances and her nose a given by now? Yawn...
I must admit that I was more entertained by the eyewitness report of the incident, which makes the moment sound like a nonsense scene crafted by Lewis Carrol.

"Amy in Wonderland"
“She necked the top of the shot and lit the rest with a lighter,” adds the source. “Then she grabbed a straw and sucked what was left up her nose.”
She then knocked back cocktails before begging a pal to teach her the dangerous “duttywine” dance, which can cause serious neck injury and pain"
“Amy was on top form and begged a pal to teach her the dance where you spin your head around really fast while you wind into the ground. Amy was so into it at one point her beehive nearly fell off.”

Duttywine"? Excuse me- duttywine? What the hell is that? A dangerous dance? I didn't even know dangerous dances still existed in our secular society- was she conjuring up spirits with these violent movements? Why doesn't that bit sound more crazy than booze-nosing to anybody else? Ok, let's review- what is a more interesting headline-

AMY WINEHOUSE STICKS SOMETHING UP HER NOSE!
or
AMY WINEHOUSE LEARNS DEADLY DANCE, NEARLY LOSES "DO"!

The latter headline is far more titillating. Come on gossip journos- give me what I want, and let me learn about dangers beyond the bottle! I did some youtube research, and learned that this duttywining can actually REALLY FUCK YOUR SHIT UP! Let's have a gander, shall we?

FUCKING OUCH!
To be honest, we should know that if the drugs haven't killed Amy yet this duttywining most surely will!

The March of Queer Obama-Zombies (An All Inclusive Heading)

2008-02-28T10:05:00.000-08:00

Dear March,
Is it really you? Are you here already? I just don't know where the time goes- it's as if I spent the second half of February under a snowy blanket waiting for the sunny glow of your Spring teasing. Oh March! You seasonal pubescent rascal, you! With Easter (and Pulaski Day!) nestled in your warm heart amid the hope for nearing blooms, what could possibly go wrong?
Fondly,
Dennis

MARCH ACTIVITY BREAK!

Hey kids! Here's a superfun calendar you can print out and color! You also can fill out the dates for the merry month of March! Or you can leave the days blank and have March last forever and live in the nonsensical timeless reality that is lived out by alcoholics having a perpetual St. Patrick's day. Come to think of it, the kids in this picture look a little busted- so don't forget to color the gin blossoms on little Johnny and Janie's noses!

You know what else March is great for? Hillary Clinton! I admit that I'm a very big Clinton supporter, but I really have nothing against Mr. Obama- I'm fine with him being our prez too. As long as Mr. Zombie McCain isn't in the White House, I'll be a happy camper. What is incredibly distressing, however, is the attacks I've recieved from some very vocal Obama supporters.

"MY VOTERS WILL EAT YOU!"

After posting a video of Tina Fey's endorsement of Hillary on my facebook, a friend commented "Go-bama... take this bitch out yo!". Another friend of mine repeatedly tries to rub whatever he finds disdainful about Hillary in my face, as if I was supporting the leader of a fascist party. When my good friend Megan sent in this lovely piece to the lady blog Jezebel for them to link to, she was met with a less than pleased response from one of their editors, who was a staunch Obama supporter. With the results from Tuesday in, I'm starting to fear for my life, worrying that the Obamaites vitriol will spill out into a terrible backlash. Come to think of it, the operative word of the campaign being "change" accompanied the ardent blinding love of his supporters reminds me of a zombie-like scenario...Perhaps the change he speaks of will be the slow decomposition and hunger for human flesh his fans are developing as we speak...
Run! Run for your lives!

"Obamaaaaaaaaaaa!"

I believe that the picture above is taken from Bruce LaBruce's upcoming queer zombie epic Otto: Or Up With Dead People, which a movie you should be SUPER FUCKING EXCITED ABOUT! If you haven't caught the hype yet, I suggest you check out the trailer below- it'll make you want to grease your nasties with animal bits...

Well, "that's all folks"...
Stay posted for upcoming blatherings on multi-national fashion week madness and deep probing of ironic gay sex parties. It's sure to be a gas...

The "Yawnur" Wednesday...Written on a Thursday

2008-02-21T15:58:00.001-08:00

Did anybody catch last night's chatterfest episode of Project Runway? It was yet another dull entry in the endless string of disappointing stinkers this season has served up so far.
Elisa, while discussing her odd habit of writing backwards, put it best- runway spelled backwards is "yawnur", thus pointing out the clever diss that has been staring the disenchanted yet addicted viewers in the face over the past few unmemorable months.
Even better, however, was the disturbingly couple-like body language between Rami and Chris.

"Watch that hand, Ramiiii!"

Excuse me, but when did Rami become a chub chaser? All throughout the show his arm was lovingly draped behind Chris, he would stare with a charmed look in his eye as Chris spoke to the judges. Occasionally they would hold onto the other's knee... The interchange spiraled out of control as the show went on, inciting a gut reaction from my friend and I that could only be matched by walking in on your parents mid-hump. I half expected them to look into the camera, smile, and say, "You're welcome to our cottage on Fire Island whenever you'd like to drop by. Just let us know ahead of time so we can bake some fresh muffins for your arrival!"
I cannot really place my finger on what was cringeworthy about this overly-genial body language (maybe it's because my friend and I were stoned...although I think that merely enhanced the reaction that would have come in sobriety). Did anybody else feel the same way? Perhaps the subtle suggestion that Rami might like a few rolls on his man (please study Chris' distressing arm flab Rorschach above), upset me deeply- coming to terms with the fact that Rami wasn't the Rami I've come to know and lust for. Each knee grab was a spoiled touch, a wasted hunky gesture- sort of like watching somebody take a dump on a priceless Faberge egg. Why!?!? Why?!?!?

In other news...

Have you heard KCRW's Good Food podcast yet? They have the most delightful and informative spot at the beginning of each episode that goes over what's fresh and a must buy in LA's farmer's markets that week. Sadly, living in Chicago means I'm basically stuck with root vegetables, squash, and other hearty bores, but it's nice to learn that citrus fruits are still alive and kicking over in the West coast- today I found out that blood oranges are in their peak season right now and that their namesake not only comes from the color of their flesh, but the fact that they're in their prime around the time when we acknowledge Jesus' spilled blood during the crucifixion! Woah!

That last fun fact isn't that exciting, but hearing about distant prospering farmers markets as I try to catch my balance after slipping on some black ice on my walk to work makes my heart swell up with bittersweet jealousy- how nice it is to know that the blood oranges are fresh (and how badly do you want to punch your friends in Los Angeles...)!

HAPPY THURSDAY!

Oh!
Wasn't that Lunar eclipse boring? I only liked it when it was about mid-way through, and there was a light brown shading on the moon like somebody smeared poop on it. That part was super cool!
Yes, I am 10 years old...

And a dreamboat!

Pre-Valentines Day Joy Fest: Singles Regressing & Coked-Out-Fish-Ass Couple Edition

2008-02-13T10:39:00.000-08:00

Hey kiddies! Ready for another blast from the past?
Let's take a tv time machine back to the 80's and warm our frosty winter hearts!
Here we goooooo!

Isn't that the most charming, heart warming sight you've ever seen? I daresay it's even more affecting than the sight of one of China's endangered pandas. Ladies and gents without real valentines, I suggest you watch this video over and over again tomorrow and avoid any trite V-day self pity. That terrible trend needs to fly out the window- it's practically begging big businessness to create its own holiday (national Ben and Jerry's ice cream social day? Kleenex and Blockbuster day? What else am I gonna do, might as well get a mopey oil change at Jiffy Lube Day?).
No, we will have none of that! We will watch big bird, and fill our hearts with a joy that can only be brought on by this video and perhaps Christ's love (if you're into that sort of thing).
And did I mention that it's a mini Chinese lesson (I hope you gathered that from your viewing...Wo Ai Ni, anybody?)? God, why did I go to college when I could have just continued to watch Sesame Street after I turned 6.
THAT realization if far more sad than coming to terms with the fact that there will be no prix fixe dinners, diamonds, or fucking going on tomorrow night.
Ah, student loans! We'll be together forever....

If you are going to be humping all night tomrrow (in the event that you have Butterfish from your romantic dinner shooting out your pooper), I suggest you do a few lines, throw on this little known disco gem, and boink your shitty coupled heads off!

Ah! A sweet toe tapping disco ode to a man who can really deliver. Turn on Nightfall's superb tune, and you're bound to have a steamy night that will transport you and your lover to a paradise not seen since the Paradise Garage.
I, however, must present a fair warning... If your man can't actually keep it up and deliver (make you feel "10 feet tall", eh?), this could descend into a teribble and uncomfortable end to the night...ESPECIALLY if you kicked it off by ordering that Butterfish...

Seriously, BEWARE OF THE BUTTERFISH!

All in all, I predict that singles will be the winners in the 2008 Valentine's Day Fight to the DEATH!

I mean, really...

VS
Which one would you rather make sweet V-day love to, anyway?
(And, no, Fred Rodgers does not count, you pervert! Shame on you for thinking such thoughts.)

HAPPY VALENTINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Monday Drivel

2008-02-04T08:38:00.000-08:00

Ah Monday! If you had a yesterday like I did, you seem to be floating in a painful post-superbowl hangover, your esophagus burning from lingering acid reflux brought on by a buffalo wing overdose, your stomach puffy from the multiple six packs you guzzled down (all by yourself). Ain't it just a gosh darn jolly good day to be back at work?

Caravaggio's "Sick Baccas"

"GAAAAAH"

Yeah, that's what I thought....

By the way, have you ever noticed that Caravaggio has an odd fixation on decapitation? Let's take a brief tour of some of Mr. C's headless wonders, shall we?

Ah, the Baroque period's greatest beheading hits! Caravaggio, you gruesome schoolboy, you! Do you notice a trend here among the fallen? If I were a bearded man back in Caravggio's day and happened to bump into him, I would run for the hills. He did, after all, have a sword on his person most of the time (an itchy hilt hand led to many a problem in his life), sort of like if Damien Hirst wandered around with a taser in his pocket...that's quite scary a scary thought...
Apparently good ol' Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio would often act as a model for his paintings, like in that lovely bleeding Mr. Medusa up above. Some art critics claim that the Baccas painting was made during a time of depression and turmoil in his life- it's a good thing he didn't take a cue from Van Gogh and bring his severance fantasies to life...frankly, a headless painter isn't of much use to anyone...

Moving on (fasten your seatbelts and prepare for a stream of consciousness media adventure!)- do you remember this early 90's gem that I somehow got stuck in my head as I was going to work this morning?

Hey everybody! It's "Bad Bad Boys" by Midi, Maxi, & Efti!

Due to Sony BMG's evil hold on their material, I cannot embed the actual music video, which comes in two flavors (basically 90's and even more 90's)- I suggest you check those out to enhance the experience of listening to this forgotten wonder of a tune. Hearing Miss Eftie rap (or is it speaking on pain killers?) about positivity alongside beckoning calls for those bad bad boys (were they watching a lot of cops?) is impossible to resist! Certainly Marissa Tomei's 90's weepie classic and one of my shameful childhood FAVES, UNTAMED HEART, couldn't resist the song's charm. In one of the opening scenes of the movie, we see her bouncing around in the Detroit diner she in which she serves stellar (I can only guess) hash browns to "Bad Bad Boys". I suppose in this scene we're supposed to somehow pick up the fact that she makes bad choices in the man department- letting her hair down and swaying her hips to shit dancehall is 90's speak for SHE DATES GAMBLERS WHO GO FOR A WET LOOK (or something to that effect...)! Sadly, for some inexplicable reason, the world wide web doesn't have a video of this magical scene anywhere in its vast networks (at least on youtube or dailymotion). Amusingly enough, however, there are quite a free videos devoted to showing scenes of Tomei in various undergarments (purple bra, pantyhose, oil pastel?), a youtube trend that has left me quite vexed.

Ah well...if we can't have dancing, we might as well meet one of her charming sleazebuckets, who looks remarkably like 90s grunge pophunk Gavin Rosdale!
Bring on the bad decisions, Marissa!

Did you watch long enough to see Rosie Perez! Motherfucking Rosie Perez! That's your treat of the day (oh if only I had time to write a long love letter to It Could Happen To You in this post...and while I'm on that little tangent, what is up with this trend of Rosie Perez co-starring in down-on-their-luck-diner-waitress-finds-love movies from the 90s? Weird...).
Anyway, at the end of that clip you might have noticed a young Christian Slater staring tenderly and perhaps a bit creepily at Tomei's character. Do you think that he could be the man who can finally break her cycle of bad romances? Do you?
Well you thought right...

But there's one big problem about Mr. Weird Yet Endearing busboy...HE HAS A FUCKING BABOON HEART IN HIS CHEST! Yeah, the movie's working title (no shit) was The Baboon Heart. Now if that doesn't sound like the perfect date movie I don't know what does...

Regardless, the two are able to find love and go on that 90's romance movie staple: the-inspirational-sports-date-scored-by-a-tender-synthesized-piano!!!!!

Did you cry a little gen-X tear while watching that? I know you did...
Isn't it amazing how a terrible yet irresistible single from 1991 can take us on such an emotional nostalgic journey (or to Beavis and Butthead...)?

God, I just love Mondays!

Although Mondays don't hold a candle to quick peeks at Marissa Tomei's thong...

Sunday Rundown

2008-02-03T10:58:00.000-08:00

Hey kids! It's Superbowl Sunday! Are you ready to shovel buffalo wings into your mouth and watch men bash into each other over and over and over and over and over...........?

Frankly, I'm not.

My disdain for football has nothing to do with the common perception that gays hate anything sports related- that, kiddies, is way too easy. In fact, if you can believe it, I spent many a summer at tennis camp, played gold regularly with my mother, was a badass at badminton, am always a sucker for televised tennis, and have a little bit of a rugby fetish (okay, that may be a bit of stereotyping....). Clearly, I'm not too prissy for sports (although that list features many a genteel outdoor activity), which should mean that football shouldn't get me griping. Wrong!
My problems with football are not the common ones that usually revolve around the meatheads playing and watching the sport- what truly irks me about the game is the fact that it's a long drawn out case of viewing blue balls. I don't know how so many people can be patient to watch a game that starts and stops every minute only to be interspersed with a shitload of camera time devoted to the stressed coaches, painted fans, and strutting players when there could be a FUCKING GAME GOING ON. And then there's the problem of the terrible half time shows, usually with some pretty dismal and embarrassing half time performances.
Why? Why does the American populace shy away from sports that don't leave them constantly hanging? Sure the hours long back and forth of soccer may get boring at times, but my balls can't handle the waiting.

Regardless, by some strange twist of fate I'm actually attending a Superbowl party this year that will be attended by the casts of various operas from the Chicago Lyric Opera. I'm scratching my head a little over that culture clash. Perhaps I can stir up some impromptu Rigoletto during half time.

Sigh...

Anyway, here's a roundup of some recent points of interest-

The latest issue of The Believer has an exquisite article about America's curious relationship with "bad neighborhoods". The author, Eula Biss, is a professor at my alma mater Northwestern University (a place with its own share of football problems). She focuses a good deal of the piece on her experience living in Rogers Park on Chicago's far North side. After coming out of Northwestern, where RP fears are almost pandemic (late night fears of leaving the Howard el stop are quite common), this was an especially interesting dissection of white mythologizing and fear mongering over space. Anybody tied to Chicago or NU (or anyone else for that matter) should find it quite interesting.
Read it online HERE.

I just made a Myspace music page (please groan now) to chronicle my musical progress for a song cycle that I've been working on for a little while now about a horrifying witch trial that took place in 16th century Germany. I'll probably be updating more about my findings an research on this blog in the future, but for now you can hear some of the unfinished pieces HERE.

And finally!

I highly recommend that you go out and purchase some Van Steenberge Atomium beer to make your Superbowl all the better. On this most American of days, do you really need a domestic? Atomium is complex (sweet one minute, heavy and dark the next, a wee but oily...oily?!?!), rich, and boozy, which will make you look like a fancy fool in front of all your football fancying friends.

Cheers!

Music NOW(?)(!)(?)

2008-01-29T12:25:00.000-08:00

Last night I attended the second music NOW concert, which is part of a contemporary series put on by the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. Much like the first concert in the fall, the evening was a splendid surprise. I never did get to post about the first concert, but I was quite surprised by the young audience as well as the prominence of young composers in the program (including one of my favorite wunderkinds of new music, Nico Muhly [go out and rent the recently released film Joshua now to witness his incredibly effective and exciting forays into film scoring...ooh oooh oooh!]). Anyway, expecting the Music NOW scene (oh god that name...) to be stuffy, stagnant, and (frankly) not very "now", I was pleasantly surprised by the programming and the patronage- young skinny-jeaned whippersnappers listening to chamber music...Quel suprise! Oh, and this was all followed by something of a high school for grown ups/so Chicago post concert reception fueled by free pizza and beer.
Yes, free beer...

FREE BEER!

And we all know everybody's favorite founding father, Mr. Benny Franklin once said...

"Beer is proof that god loves us and wants us to be happy." -Benners

Take that beer free and mix it up with some lovely contemporary music and attractive young gentlemen in tight pants and you, Chicago Symphony, have achieved something close to godliness- or my idea of a damn fine 20 bucks spent on a Monday night.

So, why shall we toast to the music NOW series beyond the gut growing freebies? The music! That's why you go to the damn concert anyway, after all. Like the first concert I left with some stellar pieces still bouncing around in my memory.

The program began with a collaboration between Norwegian composer Rolf Wallin and another Nordic treasure, vocalist Sidsel Endreissen. Before the music began a funny little interview between Wallin and Esa-Pekka Salonen (another composer/coducter on the program) took place. The moment was pure comedy as Salonen took over the conversation, not looking Wallin in the face and insisting that he use a microphone halway across the stage, because sharing one was a bit too akward. Physical comedy by way of composer fussiness is quite an odd way to kick off an evening of music, but it helped make the night feel a little less stuffy- almost a foreshadowing of the pizza... It's actually one thing that's so charming about the Music NOW concerts- the first performance was hosted by CSO composer in residence, Osvaldo Golijov, who came off like the wacky uncle of the evening spewing in a thick accent in an overlong dissection of Muhly's piece that went something like (in my fractured memory)...

Osvaldo: Zees piece ees like Matisse moving into zee body...like...eh....uh...a dancer in zee space...like Matisse to Picasso...a movement from one to eenother...you can see zee movement...like a zooooming een....ramble ramble ramble....

Nico: Hah hah hah...yes...uh....I'm a wunderkind.

Dennis: Yes you are Nico! You boy genius, you!

Anyway...

After the brief hilarity Wallin's piece began. It was a prerecorded electronic score, which rhythmically cycled through pre-recorded snippets of Endreissen's voice, various sound effects (a closing door was the big feature), and a Norwegian writer reciting some prose that next to nobody in the audience probably understood. Sidsel was the only body on the stage moving from a rather comfy looking leather chair to a microphone when it was her time to sing. There was also a completely unecessary video piece that accompanied the music that was created for the work years after it was written. The music was comissioned by Norwegian radio as a part of a series of broadcast operas, and relied on Sidsel's live improvised vocalises over the prerecorded score to be the main storytelling element of the piece. The sounds Endreissen produced, however, were wordless dexterous cyclings of nonsense language that resembled a vocal track that had been reversed through a computer program. The vocal lines seemed to be in line with Meredith Monk's wordless vocal pieces, using pitch and rhythm to convey ideas and emotion in a very "pure" musical language. What was remarkable about Sidsel's performance, however, was that she hardly sang at all and managed to replicate the electronic modifications of her voice in the score live with an added narrative power. I was taken aback, because I am a huge fan of hers and was expecting something along the line of her work on albums, which is in the vein of a jazzy more experimental Joni Mitchell (it's not as big of a yawnfest as it sounds). After expecting the Sidsel I knew, at first the piece felt like a letdown, but her otherworldly production ability held me captive.
The derivitive video art did not...
It was a bit of a mini endurance exercise, but a welcome challenge nonetheless. Remember, when you attend a contemporary music concert you're listening with the ears of....

In the next installment of BOSCH ON PUBLIC TRANSIT I will further divulge the wonders of the spectacular and confounding concert. Alas, there is a new episode of Project Runway on and I'm a slave to televised fashion competitions....Aren't we all?

2007-10-01T10:35:00.000-07:00

This is...
Created by...

IN SHORT (a completely unnecessary mission statement), this virtual cubby-hole will function as an extension of my idle aesthetic obsessions, which tend to pile up and give me minor headaches. It seems like both a practical and philanthropic idea to share these skipped parts, pretty pictures, strange songs, and general flights of fancy with all of you- I get a media inspired fever dream out of my system, and you profit by experiencing a few curious and hopefully new bits of fringe culture, camp, and/or crap. Let's shake, and make this a good long lasting relationship.

"The Garden of Earthly Delights" (center panel detail)
BOSCH seems like an interesting place to start in reference to what you will be witnessing here. Fret not- I won't spew into a grand art history lecture, I'm neither qualified to nor am I all that interested.

Besides, if I really dig into the meat of his work, it would actually contradict my inclusion of his name in this blog's title...or perhaps find some unsettling congruency (can we really be sure that the 60s Braniff stewardesses in their Pucci and Halston uniforms [to give a brief preview of posts ahead...] weren't just a pretty distraction on the dark road to the devil...can we?).

(Pretty unsettling...)

"The Garden of Earthly Delights" (right panel detail)
WHAT interests me, rather, is the sheer amount of (to put it bluntly) crazy shit is in his paintings. They're like a Where's Waldo of the grotesque. Can you spot the woman getting man-handled by the twig armed rabbit? The man who is dropping what appears to be ping pong balls our of his read end (is that where that idea in Priscilla...)? As a kid I would page through a book of his images for long periods of time, and try to pick out each tiny scenario packed into his paintings. Now, the older Dennis tends to do the same hunting with various cultural oddities that have been buried somewhere in the past....blah blah blah....

Basically, what I'm getting at is that I aspire to build this site into a collection of curiosities and horrors, delights and oddities on a Boschean (yeah yeah...) scale.

We shall see if I succeed....

So, dear readers, I leave you now with your first little treasure- Les Fusees by Alain Goraguer. This little song is from Goraguer's score for Rene Lalux's crazy crazy crazy animated feature Fantastic Planet (1973). Goraguer used to do arrangements for everybody's favorite Mr. Serge Gainsbourg. Enjoy.

-Dennis