SYMPTOM OF THE UNIVERSE

existential dread, subjective media and news reviews and opinionated but not necessarily well-informed commentary.

Tuesday, May 31, 2005

Back from Spain, engorged on Paella and fine wine and still salty from floating around in the azure Mediterranean...

The first priority that I had was to see Star Wars III Revenge Of The Sith

Here is my initial feedback: What a piece of shit. I will no longer waste my time with such garbage.

Here are the words that come to mind when I think about the film:
Anti-climactic; futile; juvenile; emotionally parasitic; dreadful; stupid; vapid; two hours of my life that I can never recover; over-hyped; contrived; pandering; dull; annoying; idiotic; a shameful waste of time and money.

As you can see, all my opinions stated here are NOT glowing reviews!
My message to all pudgy middle-aged Star Wars geek fanboys - F You!. Your life is empty! George Lucas is a fat-necked fraud, lacking a discernable chin! 2001: A Space Odyssey was far superior to the juvenile crap that you inexplicably worship. Spaceballs was infinitely more satisfying...

The truth is that my opinion really mean nothing!

Methinks I have to see it again to marvel at the CGI and reevaluate my stance.

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Not-so-memorable Sith Masters and their apprentices:

Darth Scary and Layne
Father and Son team. Layne was too busy trying to impress chicks and freak out his stoner friends with “unnatural” Sith powers (i.e. Hover-farting) had no desire to become "a total dick head” following in his fathers path to death and un-coolness and like totaly freaking out when Layne got scratches on the Imperial Mini Van. Both were killed when Layne ignited the first twin-ion engine propelled bong.

Lord Uglis and Oooky the Chimp
Chimp rebelled when bananas were withheld and beat his masters head in with orchestra cymbals wile Lord Uglis napped after an over indulgent afternoon with a family size pack of Pop-Tarts.

Viceroy Strap-on and Peaches
Last seen performing “Gypsy” at the Holiday Inn outside Moss Eisley Space Port. Tickets are still available!

Yugga the Elder and Darth Meatsauce
Accidentally made wrong left turn into asteroid field while his master tried to touch up his mullet with a Lightsabre.

Darth Icky
Jedi Vice Squad picked up him parked outside padowan school playground in Huttsburg, Dantoine. He was charged with performing an immoral act with a Wookie.

Lord Smelly and Flappy
The first (but far from the only) Sith team comprised of a hand puppet, unfortunately it was the puppet who ultimately controlled Lord Smelly and dispatched the master with an irresistible but long expired gouda-melt.

Darth Purple
First of the Sith lords to put a Holly Four Barrel and Eidelbrok manifold on the top of a Super Star Destroyer. Drove into the sun while crankin’ “Highway Star
He died like he lived: Rockin!

Friday, May 20, 2005

What better way to meet the weekend than with poetry?
I offer a haiku of my own as a segue to some offerings by some clearly inspired people:

Wind down from the week
Reflect on what's important
Toaster poetry

Kitchen appliance
Quickly heeds my anxious prayers
Toast pressed to my cheek

Consume nirvana
God is not to be eaten
But toast will suffice

Angry toastless man
Malfunctioning appliance
Senseless killing spree

Head hung in despair
Morning offering rises
I thank my toaster

Proudly I preside
Nineteen toasters hum in sync
A kitchen aflame

Bakery arson
Twelve thousand slices of toast
A silver lining

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

I am leaving for a trip to Spain on May 18 and am returning on the 28th. I often take longer than that time period between writing anything of interest so I leave this blog in the smelly hands of Jimmy 3000 until my return. Adios!

Monday, May 09, 2005

This Just in!

Women-only train cars irritate some Japanese men

Reuters article reprinted here in case link dies:

TOKYO (Reuters) - A stepped-up campaign by Tokyo train operators to protect women from gropers by increasing the number of women-only carriages is angering some male commuters.

Several of the Japanese capital's railway companies introduced the single-sex carriages on Monday as part of a city effort to tackle the problem of men who take advantage of overcrowding to grope female passengers.

In a Tokyo survey last year, almost two thirds of women aged between 20 and 40 said they had been groped on a train.

"We can't do all that much about the crowding and this kind of crime is hard to prevent, even in cooperation with the police," said a spokesman for Odakyu Electric Railway.

"Passengers have also been asking for women-only carriages."

Some men support the restrictions, which apply mostly during rush hour, but others have complained that reserving one carriage for women worsens overcrowding in the rest of the train.

"Women-only carriages are a form of discrimination against men," one opponent told the Asahi Shimbun daily.

"I cannot agree to their introduction."

The number of reported incidents of groping and sexual assault leaped to 2,201 in 2004, the worst figure on record and three times the number in 1996.

"On the one hand it could be the number of men engaging in such acts is increasing, but it could also be that women who once felt they had to suffer in silence now have to courage to speak out and complain," said a Tokyo city government official.

Some women had other reasons for preferring to travel separately from men.

"I didn't like the smell of alcohol and cigarettes on the men," one satisfied female passenger told the Asahi Shimbun.

End Article

I take the train often, and I also stand in crowded rush hour subway cars and have yet to grope any unsuspecting women. I find it offensive, and I am not even a sensitive girlie-man. I am a pig.
My take on this article is from another angle. The Japanese business men do not know how good they have it. Call me a misogynist, but if the LIRR corraled all the women into separate train cars during the commute times you would NOT HEAR A PEEP OF PROTEST FROM ME. My reasoning is two-fold:

  1. I do not want to hear them yapping away. In small pods, they talk incessantly in inane Oprah-like diatribes, manically inventing more subject matter as they go to keep the conversation going in a staccato chirpy fashion, tangents after tangent, fearing that if there is a moment of contemplative silence they will dissolve into a quiet oblivion, never again being able to share their philosophies, gardening tips, shopping adventures, dinner menus, husband's shortcomings and children's antics with the weary quiet ones hoping for a possible half hour's rest from the workday grind. The solitary ones with the cell phones usually go into a subdued frenzy of pecking away on their hand-held devices in order to call another loquacious yenta and share their one-sided conversations with everyone that should, by rights, be out of earshot. I will add that plenty of men are guilty of this heinous crime as well! Perhaps one day after too many late night sessions of Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas, the edges of reality and fantasy will blur and I will start slapping, smacking, kicking, flailing punching and using a bazooka to silence the ungodly din, inadvertently giving conservative congressional schmucks everywhere the fuel they need to ban violent video games once and for all.

  2. In the warmer months, regardless of the fact the the train's air conditioner maintains the temperature of a walk-in refrigerator, half-decent men like myself find themselves becoming leering pervs, unable to control the allure of eye candy presented by the fairer ones...

    Hot outside + train car interior temperature 60° F = nipples.

    In rereading the above I sound like I am leaning toward Ashcroft covering nude statues as not to offend his "Christian" sensibilities - mind you, that is not what I am getting at. I am making an admission that after a long day in New York City [home of the highest concentration per sq. yard of the most beautiful women in the universe] I am unaware that sometimes I don't even bother to conceal that I am staring at tits, legs, ass, feet, shoulders, neck, face... Ok, maybe this sounds more like Bin Laden than Ashcroft. Make them wear a burka! Yeah, that's it! They offend Allah!
    Someone help me please? I want to be a better man, unlike one that should be whistling from a construction site. No, it's not gay. If women were in their own train car, away from my line of site I could finish the crossword undisturbed. I can't concentrate! It is not an issue of groping. I can actually control my urges! Those Japanese... I love sushi.


There is my argument as to why gender segregation on commuter trains is a good idea.
Now for my disclaimer: I am not a sexist pig. I grew up in a house full of women and maintain platonic friendships with women and fully acknowledge that my life would be an empty, bleak dirge without them all around me. My repeated (and expected) experiences on the Long Island Railroad are the broad stroke that is used to paint this complicated picture.
I welcome any comments from the fairer sex to admonish me but I stand by my statements and observations.

Tuesday, May 03, 2005

TOP 10 BIG DUMB ROCK SONGS OF ALL TIME


In response to a question asked to him by Vincent Van Gogh regarding women; Paul Gauguin announced he liked his women fat, vicious and not too spiritual. I feel this way about rock songs, after all a real rock song cant be all preachy, or deep. So immediately U2 and the Sting were pulled right from the list, then taken outside and beaten to a pulp by Phil Lynott. In do thing this I also had to remove some of my favorites from the list in all fairness: Hendrix, I mean, yea, Purple Haze is a rock song, but he wrote far better, and Voodoo Chile is too mythological. I may in the future write a top 10 air guitar songs or top 10 songs you better know the first twenty seconds of on your axe or you will be taken out side by the angry wraiths of Mr. Lynott and Bonn Scott and get stuck like a pig by a broken bottle of Jamison’s Irish Whisky.

There were several criteria the song had to meet: It had to be loud, it had to have a guitar solo (So that blew it for the Immigrant Song), there needed to be mention of “momma” or an “Oh lawd yeah!” tucked away, at least one trill* and bonus points were scored if a member of the band died of blood alcohol poisoning or falling out of a bus window and having the bus fall on you ala bugs bunny, to be replaced the same evening of your death by your more fashionable doped up doppelganger: Kudos to you Cliff Burton. If lyrics had to be “pondered” that was the end of that (ELP off the list you go.), some mention of Satan was good (i.e. Muskrat Love: Cap’n and Tanielle)

Some bands I could not classify as rock, Steeley Dan, incredible band, no question, big dumb rock? Nope. Man-o-War, big and dumb, yes, it’s dungeon and dragons on angel dust, but not dumb rock, I will do an epic ridiculous metal roll soon enough, and Man-o-War will get their due props along with Stryper. Big and dumb, like Sex Farm by Spinal Tap, but for real.

This is big dumb rock, nothing else:

The Boys are Back in Town: Thin Lizzy”, if for no reason other than, “If that chick don’t wanna’ know, forget her!” It’s like Sinatra freebasing. I know the radio has a hard on for this, as I can turn on WBAB and hear them dedicate this to all of “Rocky Point” just before they deliver their sonic coup d’etats of the day, none other than Bad Companies “Shooting Star”

Honorable Mention goes to: “Highway to Hell: AC/DC” not since Van Halen’s “Jump” have I heard lyrics this inspired.

Junk Head: Alice in Chains” What’s not to like about this song! “What’s your drug of choice? Well what have you got?” I almost had to take points off for the flawless guitar solo, but it sinks you in your chair like Layne Stahley did before they found him two weeks later liquefied into the seat cushion.

Honorable Mention “Saturday Night’s Alright For Fighting: Elton John/Bernie Taupin” I almost had to disqualify this on the grounds that Taupin’s lyrics are astoundingly poignant (or Punget in Tom’s case) but on second thought someone is probably getting carted out of that place in an ambulance, most likely not from Elton John.

Immigrant Song (live Los Angeles version):Led Zeppelin” Not only did this have the missing guitar solo, but there is some sonic Jimmy Page going on, limited noodling: Nothing disturbs me more than someone noodling their way through an epic guitar solo, I’d rather someone be so stoned they play off key. Most Led Zepplin songs were too eclectic or too insipid (think two opening tracks on Zep IV) to make it to the list but this songs has it all: Screaming, Vikings… Well screaming and Vikings pretty much covers it, additional points for Japanese lyric notes that make no sense at all: “I wanna’ go were there’s a rest and show!”

Honorable Mention “I'm Free: The Who (live at Leeds version)” of the few rockers who did survive Roger Daltrey was able to prevent himself from becoming a complete unlikable asshole.

Johnny B. Goode: Chuck Berry” You have to go with the Chuck Berry version to follow me, I know right now you are seeing Michael J. Fox playing an oversized Gibson single cut-away, that suddenly appears smaller when the camera does a closeup on the fret work, as that is the Rudolph Shanker wanna-be of instructional video Wolf Marshall, you can’t go by Wolf Marshall, Wolf shows you where to put your fingers and do damaging shred mit his doubblekoiluberdistortion Seymour Duncan customs through $50,000 worth of amp gear. Where as Chuck probably beat a drunken and lascivious Quincy Jones off him with his Supro Tone-King and that’s where sound came from. Chuck is still a monster player and the guy deserves props for laying serious groundwork for things like the directors cut of the ending of “Free Bird” and every generic “Unplugged” guitar solo that was done when bongos replaced Jesus in the second coming.

Honorable Mention “Monkey Man: Rolling Stones” If for nothing more than Jagger screaming “I’m a monkey!”

Hot Rockin’: Judas Priest” I recall my teenage years when bands like this were accused of luring unsuspecting kids to Satan with terrifying references to “I come alive in a neon light!” and we’d go “Yea, sure that’s Satan all right, neon light, nose so bright…” I like Priest even more so today, but only the Rob Halford stuff, I give props and credit to him for coming out, especially with knowing the young recently converted Satanists he had given to the dark lord would never forgive him for realizing his portrayal of Natalie Wood in the Rebel without Caused induced “Hot Rockin’” video was the real thing. We just thought he was some dude who wore leather and liked to throw bandana’s up in the air: I don’t like the caricature they made of him in the god-awful “Rock Star”. Queens of the Stoneage got points for putting him on the “Rated R” album. “Rob! You still rock dude!”

Honorable Mention “Go with the Flow: Queens of the Stoneage”, give me a “B” a bouncy “B”, the whole song is in B, the piano keeps hitting B, the guitars are all tuned to B, and B is an evil cord that misses out on rock for some reason, everyone like’s E or A, I like B. “It say’s be my friend and there’s a picture of a Bee on it!”

Sweet Willy Roll Bar: The Melvins” I used to scare my Metallica friends with this thing. If the planet Saturn took a dump after several thousand cups of coffee it would sound something like this.

Honorable Mention “Godzilla: Blue Oyster Cult” The truth is I like the Fu-Manchu version better.

Mesh Gear Fox: Guided by Voices” For a song that claims not to rock, dude, it rocks! It accomplishes more in three minutes than most rock anthems can with an entire side of an album.

Honorable Mention “Creep: RadioHead”, another admission, when I first heard this I was rolling my eyes thinking this was a one hit wonder for collage assholes, soon after I discovered these guys were cool as hell and then OK Computer hit me like a wrecking ball, but since I cant include anything but this as a rock song, there it is.

Mother: Danzig” I don’t like Danzig, but this is possibly the most rocking tune in the doped up universe of rock. The anthem of dudes in denim jackets smashing up shopping carts in the parking lot of ‘Stop n’ P’ it’s all here. Walking down Central Park West up in the 80’s somewhere my friend Lorenzo sporting more piercing and tattoos than National Geographic could shake a mummified ape finger at locked eyes with a trendy Manhattanite shopping for enough Prada to feed all of Bangladesh for ten thousand years. “Do you wannna’ bang heads with me?” He stopped and asked. All I can say is “Man, we just fell all about the place.”

Honorable Mention “Ain’t Talkin ‘Bout Love: Van Halen” I have trouble even to myself admitting I like this song, but I do, I love the dumb lyrics, the simplicity and coolness of the guitar solos and the philosophical epiphanies. “You know I lost a’lotta friends there baby, I got no time to mess around.” Dumb at its most excellent.

Paranoid: Black Sabbath” Radio hit, yes, Sabbaths greatest offering, hell no, but I have to classify the better Sabbath as Metal and the most heavy of all metals, not rock, this is a rock tune, it was crazy before everyone spelled it with extra “e’s” that were never there, now Ozzy is all America’s sweetheart and full of political epiphanies. I liked him much better when he was a complete bastard who crapped in the back of limos.

Honorable Mention: “Crazy Train: Ozzy Ozbourne”, a Bach laden guitar solo through an MXR Distortion Plus that was light years before and beyond anything Eddie Van Hagar did, unfortunately it opened doors for people like Vito Bratta and Oz Fox to dress like Victorian’s with hair crimps for many years to come as they mimicked this. Pull up Randy, pull up!

Ace of Spades: Möterhead” I once had a cat named Möterhead and she messed Glenn up pretty bad.

“No Jim, Möterhead loves me, ain’t that right Möterhe… AAAAAHHHH!!!”

And this band had umlauts before there was a word for umlauts. Lemmie has a black belt in side burns, and has never, ever sold out, not even when he played this on “The Young Ones.”, but that’s the way I like it baby!

Honorable Mention “Speed King: Deep Purple” Leave it to Richie Blackmore to get kicked out of his own band and form Spinal Tap jr. with Mrs. Blackmore.