Happy Mother's Day

If mothers didn't exist, very few of us would be here. Or, as my comp students might say, "Mothers have been around longer than I have been a live."

Happy Mother's Day, Mom. You earned every penny.

Wait. There was payment?

Some Videos

This time I decided to do a batch of heavy covers of 80s songs. They're sure to disgust the original artists, and most of the songs' fans, but I like them better.

Mandy Lion - Kiss
This is a cover of Prince's little mincing song. I like this better. Mr. Lion has a pretty wicked growl to him, and this song goes from mincing to menacing in about a second.

Alien Ant Farm - Smooth Criminal
This was all over the radio a decade ago. Takes Michael Jackson and gives it some testosterone. Still surprisingly faithful to the original, though. Love it.

Dope - You Spin Me Round (Like a Record)
Originally recorded by Dead or Alive in 1985, this was one of the only dance songs I didn't feel uncomfortable liking. I like the new version by Dope better, though. Plus, for additional geekiness, the video is performed by World of Warcraft characters.

Realm - Eleanor Rigby
I've loved this cover since I bought Realm's debut, Endless War, on cassette in 1989. I like the Beatles' version too, but this one always charges me up. I can see Sly and Dave getting sick to their stomachs listening to it, though.

250th Post

In honor of this historic anniversary, I offer you a link to Fail Blog.

Thanks to my brother for bringing this to my attention. I've been screaming-laughing for about forty-five minutes. Michele is distracted. It's finals week. I may not live through the night.

Time-Out From Grading Essays

This is good news for all two of us who remember and really liked Riot's Thundersteel album. Mark Reale's reuniting that band line-up for a new album. It will be interesting to see what they sound like twenty years later, but I'm guessing the Zombie is still a killer on drums*.

Here's the title song from that recording: \m/ .

* Wow. I had no idea.

A Glimpse Into My Stagnant Mind

While I generally pride myself on my big-C Cynicism, for the last couple of months I've devolved to a lower life-form: a mundane, petty, pedestrian cynic. Not surprisingly, this blog has become an expression of my state of mind. Mostly it's stagnant, with posts hovering in position for a week at a time. When this turgid river of my expressed thought does churn down one spot it displays regurgitations of pop culture, shallow reflections on quickly-read books, and mind-numbing quiz results. It's pathetic.

In addition to my own pointless posts, my spastic interaction with other blogs and bloggers has been either inane or nasty. I'm ashamed of myself, for exercising so little self control, for choosing a snarl over silence.

Once again I've been tested under pressure--the classes I've taught this semester have been challenging on a personal level and Other Things* have not yeilded results yet--and I don't like what I see. Hopefully when the semester ends, and when Other Things have been settled, and I figure out how my summer is going to develop, I can return to a stable center and re-establish a self that doesn't depress me. But for the next week, it might behoove me (and benefit everyone around me) if I just shut up.

* I've been reluctant to even mention these Other Things. Hopefully, I'll be able to talk about them soon.

A Thingy Followed Me Home

adopt your own virtual pet!

Erm. Can someone tell me how to get this into my sidebar? Please? Sean? Anyone? Beuller?

Reason #327 Why Eudora Welty Is Awesome

Here's a passage from One Writer's Beginnings that demonstrates Welty's ability to observe and remember:

But one day I noticed in the same drawer a small white cardboard box such as her engraved calling cards came in from the printing house. It was tightly closed, but I opened it, to find to my puzzlement and covetousness two polished buffalo nickels, embedded in white cotton. I rushed with this opened box to my mother and asked if I could run out and spend the nickels.

"No!" she exclaimed in a most passionate way. She seized the box into her own hands. I begged her; somehow I had started to cry. Then she sat down, drew me to her, and told me that I had had a little brother who had come before I did, and who had died as a baby before I was born. And these two nickels that I'd wanted to claim as my find were his. They had lain on his eyelids, for a purpose untold and unimagineable.

Aaaaaah! Stabbed me in the gut! I love it!

Another Note of Note to be Noted

I posted to the Mr. Hyde blog. My mother will be interested in reading that post, as will many others.

Big Book Roundup

I've been reading a lot, but not posting. Here's my quick recap of my recent reading.

No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
This was recently made into a movie, and it was directed by the Coen brothers. It was nominated for a number of awards and even won a few. I had no interest in seeing this film based on its description, but when we inherited the book I decided there was no reason not to read it--even if its subject didn't interest me at all.

This is the area in which literary novel and genre novel get confused with one another. This is a literary novel, but it relies on the conventions of crime novels, detective novels, and thrillers. The reason it's a literary novel is that while it makes use of those conventions it doesn't lapse into a lazy tracing of the stereotypes that most commonly result from that. And it's so well written--the language is careful, deliberate, and sharp as a scalpel--that even if it were merely genre work it would be worth reading. Both the protagonist and the antagonist defy expectation, and the story develops in such a way as to assure the reader that he doesn't know what's coming. A very enjoyable book, and it's a fast read, too. I may have to see the movie now.

Second Heaven by Judith Guest
I have to admit it: I love Judith Guest. As I was finishing my MFA thesis she visited Mankato, and I was able to schedule a manuscript conference with her. I didn't want to burden her with my whole screenplay, so I just submitted my first fifteen pages. When we met, she was kind and gracious--but she didn't think the story worked. We talked about it for a half hour anyway, and she was intrigued enough by some of the elements to offer to read the whole script. I mailed her the whole monster, and then about a month later we met in a coffee shop in Edina to talk it over.

She still had concerns about the story, but she really liked the characters I was working with. Since the characters were the core of the story I was really encouraged. We talked for about an hour and a half that day. Judy (that's how she signed her emails) took a place in my mind that was part aunt, part grandmother, and part sister. I really value the time she took for me.

As for this book--when I saw it in an antique store for a dollar I had to pick it up. Her characters and the novel's premise weren't really my thing, but I feel like I'm supporting her work in some small way by reading this. Like the McCarthy book, despite a disconnect between my usual interests and Guest's material, this is an enjoyable read. The psychological depth and the reality of the characters propelled me through the story. Now I need to read Ordinary People (I've seen parts of the Oscar-winning film adaptation, but haven't read the book yet).

Conan the Marauder by John Maddox Roberts
This is exactly what it should be. There's no reason to open a Conan novel expecting literary genius. What one should expect is a series of exciting conflicts during which Mr. Of Cimmeria will demonstrate his awesomeness. There are feats of strength in this novel. There are also feats of cunning, of skill, and of a general derring-do. Conan of Cimmeria always wins. I know that. You know that. But it's fun to read anyway.

In this case, Conan begins the story by being captured and forced into a Roman-gladiator-type slavery. But because Conan is awesome, he is soon a general in the army of the people who enslaved him.

Bottom line? Conan of Cimmeria is awesome. And this book, while not a great work of art, is fun to read.

The Young and Violent by Vin Packer
I found this in a box of old books at my mom's house, and since I'm incapable of ignoring a book in my possession, I hung onto it and figured I'd read it at some point. "Some point" came a week or so ago, and I finally consumed this hunk of cliche.

Here's the setup: gangs, New York City, drugs, 1950s. You have a picture in your head now, right? It's mostly general, and probably involves a lot of stereotypes, right? That's this book.

Based on the cover art and the contents of the story I had imagined Vin Packer to be some misogynist troll, a dense man with a heavy brow ridge who yells for his wife to get him a beer while he watches professional wrestling and NASCAR. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that "Vin Packer" is the pen-name of Marijane Meaker--a woman. Not only is she a woman, she's a lesbian. She is a woman and she loves women, but the female characters in this story are weak, simple, and amoral. Mostly they're furniture with dialogue and orifices for men to exploit.

If you're inclined to read this story, I'd advise you not to. Save time and hit yourself on the head with a cinder block instead. Same effect.

Another Funny Synthesis

The other day Mike posted a video melding Monty Python and Star Wars, and I saw that it was good. Today I offer you a combination of Monty Python and Star Trek. I see that this is also good.

Yea, verily.