mr. zilla goes to town

Thursday, October 23, 2003

Hero fiddles while CD burns

at the risk of sounding like HG... the other day I took delivery of a new piece of kit... it is basically knobs. Knobs, knobs and a couple more knobs. and some buttons though they're proving a bit trickier to activate. And as you know having lots of knobs is better than none at all; this is proving particularly true when taking your Traktor for a spin around the paddock without scaring the sheep.

The trouble is all I want to do at the moment is rush home from work, go straight up to my room, close the door, and have a fiddle.... and then a Guinness... damn that bloody sneakily blatant free promo boozeup... and then a more of a fiddle... the upshot is at the end of this I might have put a CD together in the next week or so.

Friday, October 17, 2003

Understanding Ahnold

Right after the event someone asked me to say something wise about the election of a roid munching pro-orgy Republican in-law of the Kennedys.

Keeping with the spirit of this blog I've been distracted for the last few weeks but in the end it boils down to this:

W can dog whistle to the right in the middle;
Ahnold is dog food to the center on the left.


Coast, that is. I have no doubt after the whole WMD debacle that the right, despite seeing the same shadowy moving pictures on the wall, are are attuned to the subliminal spin of their leaders. It's like we're in Ahnold's Cave - the one next to Plato's - except the lines of communication with the "reality" of power have gotta be pheromonal.

Let's review what we know:

* Ahnold has a taste for group sex and groping women
* He's pledged to fix California's $8billion budget deficit
* He has already mooted seeking support from the federal government:
"I look forward to asking him [Bush] for a lot, a lot of favors," Schwarzenegger said.

In an attempt to put together the pieces of the puzzle I spent a toasted Friday evening down around DC's hotbed of lobbying and intrigue, K street, the twisted bowel of the town that constipates congress. The political compass was covered in moss so I would have to rely on good old fashioned triangulation from whatever landmarks came into view.

I discovered this magic eye picture somewhere between the shrieking awfallity of the Hard Rock Cafe (as an analogue for Planet Hollywood) and yawping drunken karaoke in a watering hole called Recessions. It makes perfect sense - explaining the Gubernator's Washington lobbying agenda, how he's going to balance the Californian budget, and how the hell he got so many left coasters to vote for him in the first place. It's plain to see - W can dog whistle to the religious right, sweaty and swollen over the ever straining bible belt, but Ahnold? He is just choice grade beefcake dog-food to those immoral Californians.

And don't they know it!


Monday, October 13, 2003

The beginning of the beginning

Unfortunately I'm not getting the time at the moment to get the mostly-written stuff I have pasted up here. It's all a bit lost somewhere in a Bermuda Triangle of drinking, linking, and thinking. I'm working on a commissioned piece to explain the California election result, but crack squad of Latino guerilla painters invaded my house on the weekend and potentially contaminated the results from the friday night field work downtown. The paint fumes sure as hell tripled my hangover...

In the meantime here's another "hey, check this out" -

Foolish evil-genius mad scientists in nearby North Carolina have devised a dangerous escalation in the monkey-poo-throwing capabilities of America's monkeys.

Sweet mercy, do scientists never consider the consequences of their research? I predict this development will lead to two seismic globo-strategic and socio-industrial paradigm shifts:

0. No, monkeys are not going to imprison all humanity within an artificial reality simulation to enable them to harvest our bodies' bio-electrical energy. Jeez, move on, people!

1. But it will create a unipoolar imbalance as US monkeys impose hegemonic control over the hemisphere through their cyber-kinesis, overtaking Africa to become the monkey world's greatest ever puthropower; and

2. "Miss Bubbles, take a letter..."

Tuesday, October 07, 2003

Slug slidin' away

In Washington, slugs do not talk.

Slugs do not ask to change the radio station.

Slugs do not offer money, gifts, or tokens of appreciation, nor are they ever requested.

Sometimes slugs are almost killed by maniacal Czechs, and sometimes slugs are snatched out of turn.

They kinda sound like great pets... or maybe housemates... except they write awful, awful poetry.

This is another fine example of a neo-collectivism that at times emerges quixotically out of observed American hyper-individualism. The other that springs to mind are the newspaper dispensing boxes on every street corner in the city. These are twenty-five cents to a dollar to open, after which you could take one copy or a dozen. But why take a dozen? I stood watching the row of 10 boxes one day at Dupont and not a single person took more than one paper. There are bonds of trust, both shallow and deep, you just have to catch them out the corner of your eye as the workweek swing flies back and forth.