Among my many responsibilities at work, I would strongly argue that my weekly educational/messaging training session - the Mind-Blast for +4 Damage - is not only my favorite but that of my coworkers as well.
Why?...Let's just say that I bring a unique approach to training...and pretty much anything else work related...including meetings. I am well known for showing Strongbad Emails and AskaNinja videos at the beginning of Mind-Blasts to make up for the boring suckage of exposition that I am about to bludgeon my coworkers with. Today, however, I decided that merely watching a video would not be enough. Nay! We would create one. (Technically, my thought processes didn't really follow that route, but I'm afraid that the human language lacks the complexity to express anything approaching my mental patterns outside of the phrase "No impulse control.")
I share with you now the majesty that is the Mind-Blast for +4 Damage. Today, we learn about some of the common branding mistakes that the team has made. We learn a little about ourselves. We learn a little about the world around us. And we learn the answer to the question that has plagued mankind for millennia - namely, what is the result of this equation:
3 Liters of Diet Coke
+ 5 Rolls of Mentos
+ 3 Sheets of Printer Paper
+ 3 Business Cards
???
Now don't you wish you worked with me?
Video courtesy of Erik (Ulric) Taylor.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Life Imitating Art - Mark II
It's an odd thing when the absurdity of life strikes you square in the nuts...a second time.
Today at work, I was greeted with this alarming news. Apparently, there is a group known as the Rainbow Family (some 20,000 strong) that is planning an unarmed invasion of Colorado for some Hippie love-fest. Immediately upon hearing this news, I began flashing back to the Die Hippie, Die episode of South Park.
To summarize this episode for my readers - South Park is targeted for a Hippie Music Festival that threatens to overwhelm the tiny mountain town, drowning the citizens in a sea of drum circles, body odor and patchouli. The survival of South Park, and the human race itself depends on the efforts one lone hero - Eric Cartman. Answering (and accepting the charges for) the call of heroism, young Master Cartman forges a Hippie Drill capable of burrowing to the center of the unwashed horde where he harnesses the awesome power of Death Metal to drive back the hippie onslaught that assaults his home.
Now in addition to being "pleasantly plump," I have found that I have several things in common with Master Cartman. I am frequently placed in situations where I need to demand that others "Respect my authority!" I too hate Kyle. And I once made a kid eat his parents...probably shouldn't say any more about that until the statute of limitations runs out...Of course, I believe the tie that binds young Eric and I tightest is our mutual hatred of hippies. Indeed, one of my most prized t-shirts is one boasting the image of Cartman, proclaiming "Screw You, Hippie!"
...Perhaps our greatest variance, however, is my lack of anti-Semitism, my a-anti-Semitism, if you will. I am pretty much the opposite of an anti-Semite. My favorite author (and personal hero), Peter David, is a Jew. The last girl I asked out (bringing the grand total to four) was part Jewish (a demi-Jew if you will). Heck, my boss is a Jewish Carpenter. (Note: This is a metaphor. My boss is actually a Caucasian Program Director.) But I Digress...
I guess you could kind of describe me as an older, bespectacled, pro-Semite Eric Cartman.
That fact having been established, I now find that the honor and responsibility to save the great state of Colorado of these most blessed United States of America from the cancerous growth that...grows within...now falls upon my shoulders. Borrowing from the fictional world that seems to be currently dominating our reality, I have chosen to follow the same path as brave Master Cartman...Behold...
Plan A:
The much beloved Hippie Drill. Guzzling down at least two gallons of gas for every mile, this is, perhaps, the least economically feasible of my plans.
Of course, I realize that things don't always work out as well in real life as on TV, so I have also devised a...
Plan B:
The Idaho Integrated Breaching Shotgun. Imagine a crack squad of patriots, lockstep in a "Flying V" formation (like in the Might Ducks) barreling down on the Hippie hordes with these babies. We'd make it to the center in no time.
While scientists have yet to prove that Hippies are, in fact, still human (I personally contend that they are golems, having lost their souls and merely existing as empty, instinct-driven husks), I realize that some may be squeamish with the previous two options. Therefore, I offer my ultimate solution...
Plan C:
You've heard the old adage, "Fight fire with fire"? Well I'm keeping the "with fire" part and exchanging the first "fire" for "Hippies"...and I'm adding "Panda" in there somewhere.
You wanted something to keep the blood off your hands? I'm giving it to you.
Today at work, I was greeted with this alarming news. Apparently, there is a group known as the Rainbow Family (some 20,000 strong) that is planning an unarmed invasion of Colorado for some Hippie love-fest. Immediately upon hearing this news, I began flashing back to the Die Hippie, Die episode of South Park.
To summarize this episode for my readers - South Park is targeted for a Hippie Music Festival that threatens to overwhelm the tiny mountain town, drowning the citizens in a sea of drum circles, body odor and patchouli. The survival of South Park, and the human race itself depends on the efforts one lone hero - Eric Cartman. Answering (and accepting the charges for) the call of heroism, young Master Cartman forges a Hippie Drill capable of burrowing to the center of the unwashed horde where he harnesses the awesome power of Death Metal to drive back the hippie onslaught that assaults his home.
Now in addition to being "pleasantly plump," I have found that I have several things in common with Master Cartman. I am frequently placed in situations where I need to demand that others "Respect my authority!" I too hate Kyle. And I once made a kid eat his parents...probably shouldn't say any more about that until the statute of limitations runs out...Of course, I believe the tie that binds young Eric and I tightest is our mutual hatred of hippies. Indeed, one of my most prized t-shirts is one boasting the image of Cartman, proclaiming "Screw You, Hippie!"
...Perhaps our greatest variance, however, is my lack of anti-Semitism, my a-anti-Semitism, if you will. I am pretty much the opposite of an anti-Semite. My favorite author (and personal hero), Peter David, is a Jew. The last girl I asked out (bringing the grand total to four) was part Jewish (a demi-Jew if you will). Heck, my boss is a Jewish Carpenter. (Note: This is a metaphor. My boss is actually a Caucasian Program Director.) But I Digress...
I guess you could kind of describe me as an older, bespectacled, pro-Semite Eric Cartman.
That fact having been established, I now find that the honor and responsibility to save the great state of Colorado of these most blessed United States of America from the cancerous growth that...grows within...now falls upon my shoulders. Borrowing from the fictional world that seems to be currently dominating our reality, I have chosen to follow the same path as brave Master Cartman...Behold...
Plan A:
The much beloved Hippie Drill. Guzzling down at least two gallons of gas for every mile, this is, perhaps, the least economically feasible of my plans.
Of course, I realize that things don't always work out as well in real life as on TV, so I have also devised a...
Plan B:
The Idaho Integrated Breaching Shotgun. Imagine a crack squad of patriots, lockstep in a "Flying V" formation (like in the Might Ducks) barreling down on the Hippie hordes with these babies. We'd make it to the center in no time.
While scientists have yet to prove that Hippies are, in fact, still human (I personally contend that they are golems, having lost their souls and merely existing as empty, instinct-driven husks), I realize that some may be squeamish with the previous two options. Therefore, I offer my ultimate solution...
Plan C:
You've heard the old adage, "Fight fire with fire"? Well I'm keeping the "with fire" part and exchanging the first "fire" for "Hippies"...and I'm adding "Panda" in there somewhere.
You wanted something to keep the blood off your hands? I'm giving it to you.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
The Snowman: A Haiku
As part of the communication training I received today, we were also instructed to write a description of a snowman. The intent was to demonstrate the variance between the communication styles of the different personality profiles - one the feeling group wrote a creative story about the snowman hitting on a snowwoman; one of the sensing group wrote a piece lamenting the loss of summer to the freezing onslaught of winter; one of the analytical group wrote a description of a snowman, including size, shape, component structure; etc.
However, after I had read my piece to the group, the instructor told me that my particular description was unclassifiable.
With no further ado, I give you...
However, after I had read my piece to the group, the instructor told me that my particular description was unclassifiable.
With no further ado, I give you...
The Snowman: A Haiku
Run and hide, children
Evil Snowman can't be stopped
Get a flamethrower!
Run and hide, children
Evil Snowman can't be stopped
Get a flamethrower!
Do not taunt the Josh
I have been fairly busy at work for quite some time now and unable to tap away at the old keyboard (professionally or recreationally) as much as I would like. That being said, this week I was luckily able (forced) to attend a company-wide communication workshop that was intended to aid me in not being offensive and being more tolerant of the communication styles of others. As preparation for the event, I (as well as everyone else) was given one of those self-evaluation (pick the one that most describes you) tests.
Over the years, I've taken a number of these tests and have learned to be disappointed with the results. Typically, these things end up classifying you in one of four categories (or if you're lucky, one of eight) that, at least for me, feel that they may describe part of my personality but fail to capture the full glory that is I. In direct contradiction of the immortal words of Tyler Durden, I do believe that I am a unique snowflake and therefore difficult to define.
Imagine my surprise this morning when I was greeted with a 20-page personality analysis that actually did a decent job of portraying the complexities and conflicting impulses that define me. Apparently the Jungian psychological voodoo that they performed on my responses actually worked.
Of course, as I mentioned earlier, the intent of this test was to aid me in my communication efforts, and, in turn, aid others as they communicate with me. Rather than engaging in any type of self-reflection that may lead to increased enlightenment, I prefer to take my more comfortable position of belligerent jackass and instead offer you all some of the more useful tips to employ when you communicate with me.
Okay, maybe I wrote in that last one, but it seemed to be keeping with the theme. And actually, I couldn't pass up this little tidbit either. It's listed under my "blind spots," meaning that it is an aspect of my psyche that I may not be aware of...
Over the years, I've taken a number of these tests and have learned to be disappointed with the results. Typically, these things end up classifying you in one of four categories (or if you're lucky, one of eight) that, at least for me, feel that they may describe part of my personality but fail to capture the full glory that is I. In direct contradiction of the immortal words of Tyler Durden, I do believe that I am a unique snowflake and therefore difficult to define.
Imagine my surprise this morning when I was greeted with a 20-page personality analysis that actually did a decent job of portraying the complexities and conflicting impulses that define me. Apparently the Jungian psychological voodoo that they performed on my responses actually worked.
Of course, as I mentioned earlier, the intent of this test was to aid me in my communication efforts, and, in turn, aid others as they communicate with me. Rather than engaging in any type of self-reflection that may lead to increased enlightenment, I prefer to take my more comfortable position of belligerent jackass and instead offer you all some of the more useful tips to employ when you communicate with me.
Strategies for communicating with Joshua:Of course, the tips of what to do pale in comparison to the tips of what not to do...
- Be consistent.
- Gently remind him of the human dimension.
- Respect his knowledge (of the job).
- Allow time for him to think of the consequences.
- Remember to thank him for his time.
When communicating with Joshua, DO NOT:
- Interrupt him when he is in control.
- Stand or sit too close to him.
- Touch his body or belongings.
- Make direct eye contact or any sudden movements.
Okay, maybe I wrote in that last one, but it seemed to be keeping with the theme. And actually, I couldn't pass up this little tidbit either. It's listed under my "blind spots," meaning that it is an aspect of my psyche that I may not be aware of...
He may rely on personal forcefulness and, if necessary, intimidation to achieve his aims. He tends to be seen by others as dictatorial and can be aggressive in arguing his position.After a sound beating about the head and shoulders with a coffee carafe, the workshop leader agreed to take back that last part...but perhaps I've said too much.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Dreaming a new reality
I always find myself amused and entertained by the complex, cinematic nature of my dreams. Being a full-fledged media junky, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that my dreams frequently feature high-speed chases, over-the-top fight scenes and a lot of gunplay.
Last night I dreamed that I was battling a zombie horde in the deserted streets of the inner city. While this is in no way an original storyline, it is odd that I dreamed about that last night, since I haven't read/played/watched anything with zombies for quite some time now.
After becoming quite adept at holding back the unrelenting army of the breathing-challenged, I was pulled through a dimensional portal into an alternate universe. I quickly learned that I had been pulled through this rift to help this new world stand against their own zombie problem.
My immediate thought (both in the dream and in waking when recalling the dream) was - If you possess the technology capable of bridging the gap between dimensions, why the hell do you need my help for a simple zombie problem?
Last night I dreamed that I was battling a zombie horde in the deserted streets of the inner city. While this is in no way an original storyline, it is odd that I dreamed about that last night, since I haven't read/played/watched anything with zombies for quite some time now.
After becoming quite adept at holding back the unrelenting army of the breathing-challenged, I was pulled through a dimensional portal into an alternate universe. I quickly learned that I had been pulled through this rift to help this new world stand against their own zombie problem.
My immediate thought (both in the dream and in waking when recalling the dream) was - If you possess the technology capable of bridging the gap between dimensions, why the hell do you need my help for a simple zombie problem?
Saturday, April 29, 2006
Wii are not amused
Admittedly, I have never been on the cutting edge of the gaming industry - traditionally waiting a couple of years to purchase the newest system when prices have dropped. However, in the past few years, I have attained a level of financial comfortable that allows me to splurge on occasion. With the newest iteration of "next-gen" consoles, I had intended to do just that. While the Playstation 3 had been the focus of my lustful desires, I had also planned on acquiring an Xbox 360 and quite possibly the innovative gaming platform that Nintendo had been working on. A platform with the codename: Revolution. A placeholder name that they repeatedly indicated was not permanent.
I can understand that Nintendo was a bit reluctant to cling this particular name, since it was lagging behind the other new consoles in terms of performance levels and graphical capabilities. Perhaps it didn't feel that it was really doing anything "revolutionary." Then again, when considering their unique controller-design and virtual console (through which users could purchase and play a variety of legacy gaming platforms from the original NES to the Sega Genesis and even the TurboGrafx 16) one could argue that the "Revolution" moniker was well-deserved.
Whatever their reason for desiring a name change, I find it hard to justify their newest decision. The Wii (pronounced "wee"). My first thought was that this was some kind of April Fool's stunt, even though it was 26 days to late. An actual visit to the official website, though, proved my darkest fears.
Now, I'm no advertising guru. I don't even have a marketing degree (it's actually a Literature degree with minor in Mathematics). But I have worked in the marketing industry for almost four years now, and one thing I've learned - keep it simple. This is a lesson that my own company could learn. Case in point, our company logo.
After working at my employer for almost a year, I was at a dinner party where a client asked me what our company logo was supposed to be. I had to tell her that I had no idea. Neither did anyone on my team. It was only after this client had stumbled around the party (I should probably mention she was pretty hammered) for twenty or so minutes that she came back up to me to tell me what it was. Even then, a simple description still didn't bring it in to clarity; she had to physically point out to me (as someone had done for her) the exact nature of the logo before my brain could translate it from a mess of dots and squiggles into a recognizable image. In the intervening years, I have done the same for coworkers and clients - none of whom have ever been able to figure out what our logo is independently.
I'm certain that back when our firm was founded, someone said, "Hey this is trendy. We should do this. It's full of subtext and meaning." I have no doubt that someone at Nintendo said the same thing about Wii. In fact, that's exactly what they said.
In marketing/advertising though, you've got one, brief moment to interest your potential customer. You need something that's short, sweet and to the point. If you have to explain what the hell your product name/brand/logo means, you're already fighting a losing battle.
Essentially, Nintendo has chosen to use a textual abstract painting to name its new gaming platform - the same stroke of genius that led Prince to change his name to a symbol. I mean "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince."
Really? He's going by Prince again, huh?
...Go figure.
I can understand that Nintendo was a bit reluctant to cling this particular name, since it was lagging behind the other new consoles in terms of performance levels and graphical capabilities. Perhaps it didn't feel that it was really doing anything "revolutionary." Then again, when considering their unique controller-design and virtual console (through which users could purchase and play a variety of legacy gaming platforms from the original NES to the Sega Genesis and even the TurboGrafx 16) one could argue that the "Revolution" moniker was well-deserved.
Whatever their reason for desiring a name change, I find it hard to justify their newest decision. The Wii (pronounced "wee"). My first thought was that this was some kind of April Fool's stunt, even though it was 26 days to late. An actual visit to the official website, though, proved my darkest fears.
Now, I'm no advertising guru. I don't even have a marketing degree (it's actually a Literature degree with minor in Mathematics). But I have worked in the marketing industry for almost four years now, and one thing I've learned - keep it simple. This is a lesson that my own company could learn. Case in point, our company logo.
After working at my employer for almost a year, I was at a dinner party where a client asked me what our company logo was supposed to be. I had to tell her that I had no idea. Neither did anyone on my team. It was only after this client had stumbled around the party (I should probably mention she was pretty hammered) for twenty or so minutes that she came back up to me to tell me what it was. Even then, a simple description still didn't bring it in to clarity; she had to physically point out to me (as someone had done for her) the exact nature of the logo before my brain could translate it from a mess of dots and squiggles into a recognizable image. In the intervening years, I have done the same for coworkers and clients - none of whom have ever been able to figure out what our logo is independently.
I'm certain that back when our firm was founded, someone said, "Hey this is trendy. We should do this. It's full of subtext and meaning." I have no doubt that someone at Nintendo said the same thing about Wii. In fact, that's exactly what they said.
When a metaphor is simple (pen= sword, dove = peace, snake = guile) it works. When a metaphor is more complex (white dress = 19th century abolitionist movement in Greyhaven, Massachusetts just east of Westchester) it has to struggle to be effective. If you're reading a novel, watching a movie/play or even listening to a song on the radio, the author has a greater opportunity to help you understand and perceive the message they are communicating - assuming they are trying to send a message."Introducing ... Wii. As in "we." While the code-name "Revolution" expressed our direction, Wii represents the answer. Wii will break down that wall that separates video game players from everybody else. Wii will put people more in touch with their games ... and each other. But you're probably asking: What does the name mean?"
"Wii sounds like 'we,' which emphasizes this console is for everyone. Wii can easily be remembered by people around the world, no matter what language they speak. No confusion. No need to abbreviate. Just Wii."
"Wii has a distinctive "ii" spelling that symbolizes both the unique controllers and the image of people gathering to play. And Wii, as a name and a console, brings something revolutionary to the world of video games that sets it apart from the crowd."
"So that's Wii. But now Nintendo needs you. Because, it's really not about you or me. It's about Wii. And together, Wii will change everything."
In marketing/advertising though, you've got one, brief moment to interest your potential customer. You need something that's short, sweet and to the point. If you have to explain what the hell your product name/brand/logo means, you're already fighting a losing battle.
Essentially, Nintendo has chosen to use a textual abstract painting to name its new gaming platform - the same stroke of genius that led Prince to change his name to a symbol. I mean "The Artist Formerly Known as Prince."
Really? He's going by Prince again, huh?
...Go figure.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Josh = Jerk
Josh Is a Jerk
(A play in two parts)
Cast of Characters
Josh: Me
Rob: Sports-obsessed Irishman
Amie: Short, spite-filled...that's about it
Kyle: Tree-hugging, crunchy-granola-eating hippie
Male Desk Attendant
Female Desk Attendant #1
Female Desk Attendant #2
Scene I
Setting - Night time, almost midnight. A hotel lobby, boasting a checkin counter and a television with women's college basketball.
Josh: Hey Rob, what room is Kyle in?
(Rob continues to stare at the television)
Rob! What room is Kyle in?
Rob: Um...I think it's 212.
Josh: Cool.
Amie: Why do you need to know what room Kyle is in?
Josh: Just watch. (Walks over to the checkin counter)
Hi, I'm Kyle Perkins - in Room 212. I was wondering if I could get a wakeup call for 3:45?
Male Desk Attendant: Oh, I don't think I can do that.
Josh: You don't think you can do that?
Male Desk Attendant: No. That's a bit much. I don't think I could do that to somebody.
Female Desk Attendant #1:You could always set your alarm clock.
Josh: Um...Is there a way I can get the alarm clock to go off at two different times?
Male Desk Attendant: Oh, uh, I don't think so.
Female Desk Attendant #1: You could set it, and then we could call you after 15 minutes to make sure that you got up.
Josh: Okay. I think that would work. So there's no way to get the alarm clock to go off twice? 'Cause that would honestly work best.
Male Desk Attendant: I just don't know. Uhhh...
Female Desk Attendant #1: Hold on. (Pulls out a sheet of paper)
So what time do you want us to call you?
Josh: Could you call at 3:45?
Female Desk Attendant #2: Why don't we call at 3:00, then you wouldn't get any sleep.
Josh: Hah! Tell me about it.
Female Desk Attendant #1: Okay...3:45. What other time do you need us to call?
Josh: Oh, I can just set my alarm for the other one. The one call should be fine. Thanks.
Female Desk Attendant #1: Have a good night sir.
Josh: I will.
(Fadeout)
Scene II
Rob: So, do you think Kyle enjoyed his wake up call?
Josh: I don't know. I thought that he was going to call me...or show up at my room and take a swing at me.
Rob: I'm surprised that we all didn't get calls... (Kyle walks up behind him)
...at 3:46, 3:47 and 3:48... (Sees Kyle)
...Uh, ccompletely forget what I was just saying.
Josh: Hey, Kyle, you're looking a little rough
Kyle: (Grunts)
Josh: So you got a pretty good night's sleep?
Kyle: No. These idiots screwed up my wakeup call.
Josh: Really?
Kyle: Yeah, I told them to call me at 6:45 and they called me at 3:45.
Josh: Snap!
Kyle: My phone was ringing, and when I answered it, they said - "This is your 3:45 wakeup call." And I was like, "Um, I asked for a 6:45 wakeup call, not 3:45."
"Oh, sorry, sir."
Josh: Man, that sucks. I can't believe that they screwed it up that badly. You should have words with somebody about that.
Friday, March 31, 2006
2006 Annual Objectives
As Q1/2006 draws to a close, it is time at my employer to draft new objectives for the coming year. It is by these goals that my occupational efforts will be measured, my worth determined. Bearing in mind that I consider my job to be a minimal portion of my life (while absorbing a bulk of my time), I decided that I would also draft a list of objectives for the oncoming year that relate to my personal development. And so I give you now, my personal objectives for 2006:
- Don't die
- Stop being such a jerk
- Buy a house (and by "house" I mean "townhome"...and by "buy," I mean "burn to the ground")
- Resume my diet
- Stop listening to my teeth...especially when they make sense
- Grow another mohawk
- Do a better job of staying in touch with out-of-state family and friends
- Stop threatening coworkers with physical violence...non-physical violence still ok
- Write something substantive...or at least come up with a really good excuse why I haven't
- Memorize some Shakespeare
- Trick beautiful woman into falling in love with me by quoting aforementioned Shakespearen passages
- Save up money to buy a mail-order bride if Operation Bard Maiden fails (and by "buy," I mean "burn to the ground"...probably crossed a line with that one)
- Undo the mistakes of the previous year.
- Don't die
- Stop being such a jerk
- Buy a house (and by "house" I mean "townhome"...and by "buy," I mean "burn to the ground")
- Resume my diet
- Stop listening to my teeth...especially when they make sense
- Grow another mohawk
- Do a better job of staying in touch with out-of-state family and friends
- Stop threatening coworkers with physical violence...non-physical violence still ok
- Write something substantive...or at least come up with a really good excuse why I haven't
- Memorize some Shakespeare
- Trick beautiful woman into falling in love with me by quoting aforementioned Shakespearen passages
- Save up money to buy a mail-order bride if Operation Bard Maiden fails (and by "buy," I mean "burn to the ground"...probably crossed a line with that one)
- Undo the mistakes of the previous year.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
Saturday - March 18, 2006
Sullivans
8:00-9:30PM
Feasting like kings at Sullivans steak house. There was steak. There were mushrooms. There were onion rings you could fit a man's hand through. There was creamed corn and au gratin potatoes and grog and targ.
Morning Wood
9:40PM
We only caught the tail-end of this show, but to say that it was suggestive would be an understatement. It was very suggestive...and those suggestions were mostly about procreative activities (e.g. sex).
The Stills
10:00PM
These guys were pretty good, and once again, Buzz took advantage of his press pass to get behind the crowd barrier and get some close up shots. My friends were all gaga about these guys, but standing in that front row, all I could think was that they really needed a hot chick beating on a drum and a crazy Ukrainian singer.
The Longcut
11:00PM
We only caught a part of this show because the previous venue we were at was nowhere near this one. That being said, these guys were good. Unfortunately, after a very long week, I was pretty worn out and rather than watching the show I snagged a table on the top level of the venue and only listened to them. Again, I liked what I heard, but I just couldn't get that into them.
Nine Black Alps
12:00AM
The only band that I heard their entire set and yet never physically saw the band (I was still on that top level sitting under an air conditioning duct watching my friends Ian and DeLynn play table football). Since these guys really sucked, I didn't feel like I missed anything.
The Charlatans
1:00AM
Finally, the reason we walked all of the way over here in the first place - the Charlatans. The lead singer had done something to his voice between the Fader party and that night because you could tell he was struggling, but he was a trooper and did a really good show. Unfortunately, a gangly British man kept hitting me with his murse as he jostled about next to me...any reports you heard about a man strangled to death by a handbag in the Austin area were purely coincidental, and the above statement in no way reflects a motive or admission of guilt in any way...under the advice of my counsel, I will now invoke my fifth amendment right.
8:00-9:30PM
Feasting like kings at Sullivans steak house. There was steak. There were mushrooms. There were onion rings you could fit a man's hand through. There was creamed corn and au gratin potatoes and grog and targ.
Morning Wood
9:40PM
We only caught the tail-end of this show, but to say that it was suggestive would be an understatement. It was very suggestive...and those suggestions were mostly about procreative activities (e.g. sex).
The Stills
10:00PM
These guys were pretty good, and once again, Buzz took advantage of his press pass to get behind the crowd barrier and get some close up shots. My friends were all gaga about these guys, but standing in that front row, all I could think was that they really needed a hot chick beating on a drum and a crazy Ukrainian singer.
The Longcut
11:00PM
We only caught a part of this show because the previous venue we were at was nowhere near this one. That being said, these guys were good. Unfortunately, after a very long week, I was pretty worn out and rather than watching the show I snagged a table on the top level of the venue and only listened to them. Again, I liked what I heard, but I just couldn't get that into them.
Nine Black Alps
12:00AM
The only band that I heard their entire set and yet never physically saw the band (I was still on that top level sitting under an air conditioning duct watching my friends Ian and DeLynn play table football). Since these guys really sucked, I didn't feel like I missed anything.
The Charlatans
1:00AM
Finally, the reason we walked all of the way over here in the first place - the Charlatans. The lead singer had done something to his voice between the Fader party and that night because you could tell he was struggling, but he was a trooper and did a really good show. Unfortunately, a gangly British man kept hitting me with his murse as he jostled about next to me...any reports you heard about a man strangled to death by a handbag in the Austin area were purely coincidental, and the above statement in no way reflects a motive or admission of guilt in any way...under the advice of my counsel, I will now invoke my fifth amendment right.
Friday - March 17, 2006
I foolishly thought that I would be allowed to sleep in late after my big night...I was wrong. I was bundled up, dragged to lunch and then dragged downtown for some unofficial non-SXSW sanctioned entertainment. I believe the venue was somewhere in the third circle of Hell.
Spank Rock
3:00PM
Based on their name, I thought that these guys would possibly rock, or at least make an attempt to do so. It was only after their set began that I realized this dynamic crap duo's name was meant to imply a punishment for Rock and anyone who enjoys it. Admittedly, I am not a big crap fan, but there are some crap artists that I like. However, regarding these men, I would aid, abet, and accesorize after the fact any who sought to do them harm.
The Shrieking Harpy Needs to Shut Her Pie Hole and Get Off of the Stage
3:45PM
I'm not entirely sure that this was what that band was called. But if it wasn't, it should have been.
Art Brut
4:15PM
When will the hurting stop?
RJD2
4:45PM
Another DJ and the reason I had been dragged to this hellish sideshow. I had hoped that he would be cool since his name was so close to R2-D2. Maybe this DJ would incorporate some Star Wars sound effects into his turntablism. He did not. However, he did not cause intense jolts of pain and waves of nausea, so he had that going for him.
The Boiling Pot (The Fader Party)
6:30PM - 8:30PM
At this point in the day, my friends began plotting and scheming regarding how they were going to get into another unofficial non-SXSW sanctioned event - the Fader Party. This was a private show, boasting the Charlatans, Twilight Singers and Dirty Pretty Things that was invitation only. Since we did not have an invitation, we attempted to build a trebauche that would launch us into the venue. This plan did not work. We then a tried a rooftop to rooftop pole vaulting method. This too met with failure. Finally, we struck upon genius (technically, I struck upon genius, but later in the evening everyone else claimed that they were the one to have the genius idea, but it was I. Not them). Across a large, poorly-lit drainage ditch / creek (which I affectionately referred to as the "Raping/Killing Place") from the venue was a restaurant called the Boiling Pot. But this was not just any restaurant. This was a restaurant with a balcony - from which one could hear (and to a limited extent) watch the Fader party. I was distracted throughout most of the show by the dead aquatic lifeforms that were spread all over our table, so I really can't comment too much on the performances, but since I was sitting down and stuffing my face throughout the performance, this was one of the more enjoyable shows.
Scissors for Lefty
9:00PM
These guys were pretty good, but given as I am to fixate on various external stimuli, I was only able to pay partial attention to them. I had stationed myself against the wall at the top of the first set of stairs of this tri-leveled venue. I was not blocking the stairs, but instead was a couple paces back so that people could easily get past me. After a couple of songs, a freakishly tall obliviot decided that he was going to go stand right in front of the stairs, blocking both my view and anyone attempting to go up or down the stairs. After having several people run into him, he realized his mistake and moved away...for all of three minutes. He was then back with a vengeance, white-boy shuffling like a madman. He was soon joined by a rather tall woman who seemed to think that the blocking the stairs (and my view) thing was the best thing since the fall of Communism and took up a flanking position next to her man. Of course, anyone who subsequently tried to go up or down the stairs would instead hug the wall to get around these two and run into me. I have to admit, I was never more tempted to knock anyone down a flight of stairs in my life.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
9:40PM
Since it was St. Patrick's day and everything was crazy, we thought it might be a good idea to get into the venue early.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
9:50PM
Yep. There sure are a lot of people here.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:05PM
I sure am glad that we're finally moving. It looks like we've made it about halfway in the time we've been standing here. We'll probably get in just in time. But maybe we should send someone over to Stubb's to see if there's a line there. It wouldn't hurt to have a backup show.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:20PM
So the Stubb's line is all the way around the block? Crap. Well it looks like we're making some progress. I think we'll just make it.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:35PM
I sure do love standing in line.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:45PM
"Folks. The Blender Bar is now badges only. If you've got a wristband, you're not getting in." ...We had wristbands.
Frustrated, tired and with more than one member of our troupe nursing an illness, we decide to throw in the towel and call it a night.
Spank Rock
3:00PM
Based on their name, I thought that these guys would possibly rock, or at least make an attempt to do so. It was only after their set began that I realized this dynamic crap duo's name was meant to imply a punishment for Rock and anyone who enjoys it. Admittedly, I am not a big crap fan, but there are some crap artists that I like. However, regarding these men, I would aid, abet, and accesorize after the fact any who sought to do them harm.
The Shrieking Harpy Needs to Shut Her Pie Hole and Get Off of the Stage
3:45PM
I'm not entirely sure that this was what that band was called. But if it wasn't, it should have been.
Art Brut
4:15PM
When will the hurting stop?
RJD2
4:45PM
Another DJ and the reason I had been dragged to this hellish sideshow. I had hoped that he would be cool since his name was so close to R2-D2. Maybe this DJ would incorporate some Star Wars sound effects into his turntablism. He did not. However, he did not cause intense jolts of pain and waves of nausea, so he had that going for him.
The Boiling Pot (The Fader Party)
6:30PM - 8:30PM
At this point in the day, my friends began plotting and scheming regarding how they were going to get into another unofficial non-SXSW sanctioned event - the Fader Party. This was a private show, boasting the Charlatans, Twilight Singers and Dirty Pretty Things that was invitation only. Since we did not have an invitation, we attempted to build a trebauche that would launch us into the venue. This plan did not work. We then a tried a rooftop to rooftop pole vaulting method. This too met with failure. Finally, we struck upon genius (technically, I struck upon genius, but later in the evening everyone else claimed that they were the one to have the genius idea, but it was I. Not them). Across a large, poorly-lit drainage ditch / creek (which I affectionately referred to as the "Raping/Killing Place") from the venue was a restaurant called the Boiling Pot. But this was not just any restaurant. This was a restaurant with a balcony - from which one could hear (and to a limited extent) watch the Fader party. I was distracted throughout most of the show by the dead aquatic lifeforms that were spread all over our table, so I really can't comment too much on the performances, but since I was sitting down and stuffing my face throughout the performance, this was one of the more enjoyable shows.
Scissors for Lefty
9:00PM
These guys were pretty good, but given as I am to fixate on various external stimuli, I was only able to pay partial attention to them. I had stationed myself against the wall at the top of the first set of stairs of this tri-leveled venue. I was not blocking the stairs, but instead was a couple paces back so that people could easily get past me. After a couple of songs, a freakishly tall obliviot decided that he was going to go stand right in front of the stairs, blocking both my view and anyone attempting to go up or down the stairs. After having several people run into him, he realized his mistake and moved away...for all of three minutes. He was then back with a vengeance, white-boy shuffling like a madman. He was soon joined by a rather tall woman who seemed to think that the blocking the stairs (and my view) thing was the best thing since the fall of Communism and took up a flanking position next to her man. Of course, anyone who subsequently tried to go up or down the stairs would instead hug the wall to get around these two and run into me. I have to admit, I was never more tempted to knock anyone down a flight of stairs in my life.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
9:40PM
Since it was St. Patrick's day and everything was crazy, we thought it might be a good idea to get into the venue early.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
9:50PM
Yep. There sure are a lot of people here.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:05PM
I sure am glad that we're finally moving. It looks like we've made it about halfway in the time we've been standing here. We'll probably get in just in time. But maybe we should send someone over to Stubb's to see if there's a line there. It wouldn't hurt to have a backup show.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:20PM
So the Stubb's line is all the way around the block? Crap. Well it looks like we're making some progress. I think we'll just make it.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:35PM
I sure do love standing in line.
Standing in line to get into the Blender Bar for the Editors show at 11:00PM
10:45PM
"Folks. The Blender Bar is now badges only. If you've got a wristband, you're not getting in." ...We had wristbands.
Frustrated, tired and with more than one member of our troupe nursing an illness, we decide to throw in the towel and call it a night.
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