RECENT SCREENING LOG_

Havent' watched any movies this week, although my next Netflix movie is the documentary Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price. Haven't heard much about this one. Just that it's main arguement is that Wal-Mart is a prime example of capitalism run amock, and they don't treat their employees fairly. As a former Wal-Mart employee, I guess I could atest to that. Although, the reasons for me being fired from the W were mostly my fault. But even when I worked for Wal-Mart, I felt like I was violating my own code of ethics in that environment. Working there seemed like the wrong thing to do on my part. My pet economic theory is that as Wal-Mart grows into this mass infection of consumerism, the more they have to mass produce goods, the quality of those goods is going to diminish. On one hand, I hate Wal-Mart, and I can only stand to spend about 20 minutes in there about once or twice a month before I go nuts. On the other hand, I know that if McCook didn't have a Wal-Mart, my mom would have no place to shop for groceries at those kind of prices. Which brings me to another point; I was quite happy working at Wal-Mart in McCook. I was treated well, paid well, and I had friends there I enjoyed talking to. Past is the past...

I'm reading a great, brisk read right now, Sarah Vowell's Assasination Vacation. Very insightful, very funny, alot of fun to read, especially if you're interested in things like history, and the suprising and unbeknowst connections and coincidences between historical figures and places, etc. I'm in the middle of the chapter on Lincoln. Vowell seems like the kind of person who people can say, "She makes history come alive!" In many ways, she seems to obssess over historical trivia and fact, as if it's her own form of needlepoint; a meticulous hobby. Luckily, she doesn't have to wear an self-fashioned old timey hoop skirt dress, carry a fan, wear a frilly bonnet, speak in antiquated mannerisms, or break out into stirring renditions of "Dixieland" or "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" to do it. Blech.

So I watch American Idol last night...The "Elimination" Show, where 4 contestants were dismissed from the competition. Bobby, Patrick, Sky, and that one model chick who's posed recently for Maxim. Anyway, good. They needed to go. In true American Idol fashion, the producers decided the best way to kill not only an entire hour, but their audience as well, was to have the losers sing their losing, gutbusting songs after being told they would not proceed to the next round. May I have a little insult with my injury? Yes, thank you. We needed to hear Bobby sing "Copa Cobana" again. Our souls' salvation depended on it... Luckily, DVR remote in my clammy palm, I was able to fast forward through most of this boorish waste of time, and amazingly, I maybe only watched 5 minutes of the actual show, which basically boiled down to the eliminations only. Technology isn't just the black beast its made out to be, but it can also be a friendly giant sometimes. Last night, the real American idol was my DVR. It did what none of the contestants on the show can actually do: it kept quiet, and did its job.

I may write more later... A dreary day.

What it's like to win $1000...and never want to win it again...

In light of all this hub-bub regarding those multi-million dollar Powerball winners, I'd like to make a few comments about what it's like to win that much money, and then resolve to never want to win that much money ever again...

But first, I'd like to say, congratulations to the Cook meat processing plant winners. If any of the underpriveledged, hard workers of Lincoln had to split several hundred million, I would have picked them. Think of it; one moment, they were no ones...work-a-day Joes and Janes, and the next moment, they're retired. Wild.

Well folks, that amount of money would change anyone's life, for sure, and I'm sure I could only imagine what I would do with that amount of money. To be brief, I'd spend some on stuff, maybe a much needed vacation for me and my family and Ray, and then I'd give a large portion of it to the performing arts (various organizations, theatre, no doubt). If there was enough money left, I'd sponsor some hungry, malnurished child in Guetemala, through Christian child-outreach, whatever, one of those organizations.

This past Decemeber, I actually won $1075 dollars through my work by way of a sales contest, of which I was won of the top sellers last quarter. It was great. I was elated. Best of all, it came right before Christmas. I remember feeling somewhat assured that I would win the contest since I needed only 27 digital phone sales in order to be entered in the contest. Every order after that was another entry in the drawing, and in the end, I had 57 entries. 'How could I loose?' The odds were in my favor because I had so many entries, yet I realized that anyone else in the same position had just as good a chance as I did.

As I sat at the reception desk that day, taking incoming calls, redirecting them to their appropriate extensions, I heard a light round of applause coming from behind the door to the secrured part of the building, and the customer service area. A rep from the front desk walked through the door soon afterwards and said the three words that changed everything atleast for a little while..."Ladd, you won."

That night, I had a nice dinner at the Olive Garden. It felt good to have so much money, and not have to worry about where it was going or who it came from. Later, I'd recieve alot of "silent flack" from the other reps, maybe jealous or envious that I'd one. The worst one even asserted that the prize money had come from "their pockets," yet, I'm certain that the prize money meant to be awarded throughout the year comes from corportate, which...in turn, I guess, comes from employees pockets. I didn't understand it really, but I didn't care. For the first time ever, I had so much money, I wasn't sure what to do with it. So I did what any other rabid American consumer would naturally do, I spent it.

Spent it on what? Clothes, Sopranos DVDs, Simpsons DVDs.... Stuff I wanted for a long time. Also went to stuff I needed, like gas, groceries. But soon, and quite suddenly, it was pretty much all gone, and all that was left was maybe anything from a few dollars to a few pennies on the three gift cards which contained the prize money itself. To clear out the cards, I had a co-worker of mine put the remaining balances on my cable account. Thusly, you'd see payments of .26 cents and .52 cents on my cable bill, afterwhich, I'd prompty shred the gift cards to a dusting of plastic shards, dumping them in the trash can under my desk.

My revelries now ended, the bastard Uncle Sam had only begun to have fun with what he would consider tough love, but I consider a blatant injustice to my income! Now, you could say, 'Well, Ladd, you should have thought about this beforehand! This is just one of those facts of life. Taxes are inevitable.' Rightly so, but how could I forsee that the IRS would dip their grubby little mits into my next paycheck and lovingly extract almost $525 total from it, thereby, fucking me over for the next month. Luckily, my student loan payment wasn't due (yes, student loans, that's one thing I would pay off if I won the lottery) until Febuary, so I nearly evaded that. But consequently, I stumbled in my financial footing for nearly a month aftewards, and have only now began to recover from the taxes taken because of that prize money.

Ergo, I never want to win that much money again, be it $1000 or $365 million, unless there's a way that my paycheck will go unscathed by unclean hands! I can assuredly say, I know what it feels like for big Powerball winners. If I could fashionably retire today, I probably would, ANYONE WOULD, and devote the rest of mortal life to art, theatre, self-expression, and frequent travel abroad. But such dreams are lofty, and at least for now, out of reach.

Like I said, that amount of money, the kind of money won by those lucky meat plant workers, would change anyone's life, for good, or at least for a little while. My life if fine right now, I'm perfectly content, and comfortable, in my familiar surroundings, and no amount of money could change that.

Lesson learned. Press on.

I bought the antique desk of my dreams yesterday. It's wonderful, I'll have to describe it later....Hidden compartments... That's all I have to say about that.

Rubber Johnny...REVEALED!

As if information like this wasn't too far away (look no further than www.wikipedia.com), you can find the secrets behind the music video for Aphex Twin's "Rubber Johnny". To summarize the wikipedia article, Rubber Johnny is actually not real, but the brain child, so to speak, of director Chris Cunningham, known for his border-pushing music videos for Bjork ("All is Full of Love") and Beck ("Hell Yes"), just to name 2 such videos. So I was somewhat right... Rubber Johnny was concieved of as a mutant teenager who spends his days locked in a basement with a lone chihuahua as his companion. Chris Cunningham is Rubber Johnny, made up in load of makeup no doubt. I'd say more, but most of it has to do with male gentalia... So just go to wikipedia, and get the inside scoop. It's a great video because it has the capacity to be so revolting it affects you, in a John Water's kind of way...

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rubber_Johnny

Written: a little tipsy...

Now, if you ask me, and you might as well...I don't know who comes up with these BEST OF lists....Best of who? Best of what? Who is in such a mighty position to decide what is the best? By what criteria? Who are you to judge? Who the fuck would put all the time and effort and judgement into deciding these things?

Well, if you ask me, and you might as well, I couldn't give a shit who's the best. In the end, it's all comes down to personal preference. Do you like General Kung Pow Chicken or do you like Sweet and Sour Pork? Guy A might say, "I like General Kung Pow Chicken," whereas Guy B might remark, "But Guy A, you've missed the point entirely, when, and as you will soon discover, it is Sweet and Sour Pork that is obviously the champ apparent in this case."

For example, let us say pop-super-diva-sludge-monster Miriah Carey sells 100000000000000 records, and wins countless awards. She may be the "best" by a certain extent or margin, but is by no means "THE BEST". For example, more people when asked who the greater popular culture influence is, I am certain more people will say The Beatles, or Elvis, or even F. Fucking Scott Fitzgerald over Miriah Carey. Now, I don't have the evidence for this phenom, but I am almost certain of it. Or is that the Miller High Life talking to me? NO! I am certain more people would say the Beatles are more widely accepted and cited as a greater influence than Miriah Carey. The only person Miriah Carey ever influenced is this one choreographer (a lady, her name escapes me, but i remember her being extremely athletic for her age which was definitely over 40...her son tap-danced) who attended the show choir camp i went to back in high school. She taught us chereography to Miriah Carey's then hit "Butterfly," choereography which she herself conceived of. (She also did choreography to the "Proud Mary" number that our showchoir "group" did...I remember being singled out by her, because I could not do this one difficult manuever (move) that involved placing your left hand on the ground, your right hand in the air, and moving your feet at the same time.... ((description defies this manuever, so just ask me to try to perform it someday if you see me. I'm sure i can manage))

Now, there may have been no choreography at all, but I am most certain that at the end we had to make "butterflies" using our two hands, and watch the "butterflies" soar off into the distant sky above us, within arm's reach. A perfect visual example of this is the Happy Hands Club from the film Napoleon Dynamite, which by now, I am beginning to accept as the cult classic that is. In fact, I am certain that if they made a Napoleon Dynamite 2, It would revolve around a classic "road trip" plot, of which Napoleon, Pedro, and that one girl, with the "nice sleeves" would embark on. The rest, I leave to your imagination, dear reader...


My point is this... And at this time, I must re-direct you to the following URL:

http://docopenhagen.blogspot.com/2005/12/top-50-music-videos-of-2005.html

Now this is an impressive BEST OF list. In fact, it is the "best" or "top" music videos of 2005. Who's best? Who's top? I don't know. And judging the list, I do not care, because this is a fine list of artists, and excellent videos, which you may play in your internet browser, provided you have all the appropriate plug-ins...

If you'll allow me, I'd like to share my commentary on a few of them...

If you thought Michel Gondry's latest video with the White Stripes was the best video of 2005, you are mistaken, and this gentleman's "top" list will prove you mistaken, of course.

1. "Rubber Johnny" - Aphex Twin.... This is bizarre. Truly distrubing, and utterly bizarre. David Lynch will never divulge how he created the Baby in Eraserhead, and I'm sure Aphex Twin (whoever the fuck they are) will have the same thing going for them here. It seems like Rubber Johnny lives alone in an abandoned asylum and is only visited on occassion by curious teenage boys and the prying film crew looking to make a new Aphex Twin music video. It is real? Or is it all digital devilery? You decide, dear reader....

4. "i need some fine Wine" - The Cardigans... Perhaps, and yes, another fine example of why Sweden's The Cardigans are totally underrated, and had far greater talent and appeal than their submissions to the Romeo + Juliet and Austin Power's soundtrack. This is a video with rich, dark colors, and it showcases their band well. First Band on the Moon ROCKS!

5. "Baby, C'mon." - Stephen Malkmus ... This video is surely a visual tip o' the hat to Michel Gondry. It has the sort of digital patchwork/stop-motion feel Gondry has exhibited in such works as White Strips "Fell in Love with a Girl", or "Walky Talky Man" by that one band from New Zealand, whose name has succumbed to this beer buzz I have now. Still, this is a nice video that fits the song well. And since it's a Stephen Malkmus song, the content of the song doesn't matter so much. It just sounds cool.

10. "Military Wives" - The Decemberists .... So I skipped out on their concert when they came through Omaha. Don't make me feel bad. This video makes up for my tinging disappointment in myself. A fitting tribute the "model United Nations" of the film Rushmore, the Decemberists have taken liberty here, and merely expanded on the idea, and also, offered up a biting political commentary of the zealous and scheming U.S. (played with suprising bravura by Colin Maloy, who is only a boy). Funny, touching, maybe both. Still, a video like this one is always a welcome eye treat. Now, who brought the barbeque!!

Now, I could go through all of these videos, and hell, one could probably spend a good afternooon viewing all of them, but I just wanted to pick out a few that stuck out ot me, though if I spend some more time with this website, there are probably many more I will have to say something about. However, I will reserve myself, and resign myself to making a few closing comments about other things, besides music videos....

RECENT SCREENING LOG_

What do you get when you cross Eraserhead with The Who's Tommy with Rocky Horror? Probably nothing...But in my opinion, you might get THE AMERICAN ASTRONAUT, wherever fine Digital Video Discs are sold! Indulge yourself, and read more about it at www.imdb.com....A-E-I-O-U! Glasses on... :-) "Are you saying you're too good to kiss me!?!"

Saw Werner Herzog's GRIZZLY MAN... Timothy Treadwell was nuts. Let's get that out of the way. The man talked to bears who were capable of shreading the man within an inch of his life (and that's just what happened). Either they simply became accustomed to his presence or they did not care for him. Did he deserve to die at the paws, claws, and jaws of an animal he so desperately cared for? No, and niether did his girlfriend. But choas and fate played their parts, and exited as Timothy Treadwell was ripped to pieces, and died in the Grizzly Maze one late-summer day. Choas and fate...two things Treadwell seemed oblivious too. Shit, indeed, does happen. Yet for all this so-called righteous retrobution, Grizzly Man is in effect the story of a passionate man who yearned not for discovery, but self-discovery, in which not Mr. Chocolate benefitted or was redeemed by his presence, but instead, Treadwell found redemption for his being there, and that's all that mattered. His soul required it, and there is a certain closure to know that a portion of his ashes were scattered in the land, the Grizzly Sanctuary, which he called home.

Went to the Jeff Tweedy concert alone...It was brilliant. I shed a wee tear when he played "Heavy Metal Drummer". It reminded me was it was to be free. I'll say no more than that. It was a touching experience. Yankee Hotel Foxtrot is one of those albums that will always be a sqaure in the patchwork quilt of my memory and spirit.

So, goodnight, and good luck.