WFMU's Beware of the Blog

Factum Non Fabula: Julie Andrews/Adolf Hitler - Bastards & Blood

Can the mere appearance of schizophrenic tendencies in an individual be endearing? Can an aura of scariness in a person ever be considered sweet? The fact that these questions don't really need to be asked does not erase the fact that I ponder them daily... preferably from a distance. The value of human nuttiness and the value of the internet are two great tastes that go great together. The experience of dipping into other people's inner worlds is a sport that thrives on the internet... with it's endless, almost zoo-like hallways of human exhibits held safely behind cathode-ray glass walls... allowing one to privately sift through and gawk at a leisurely pace without the aid of a tour guide.
    Ahhh... World Wide Web, you are such a sweet and endless pie... what's that? Why yes, I would love another crunchy slice of you! Why, thank you so much... mmmm... oh wait, what are you doing? Put down that gun! OH MY GOD NO!!!
    Anyway, in the grand and esteemed tradition of web masterpieces like Timecube, American Spy Cow, Toothphone, Mucus Fat, Santa = SATAN?!, Baron Von Volsung, George Dahl, Elizabeth Brady Cabot Winslow, Francis E. Dec, and Theodore Kaczynski... comes Mikko (Michael) Juhani (John) Jack, who is apparently the first born son of actress Julie Andrews.
    Mr. Jack, it appears, is yet another sibling-of-the-famous oddity. He list a few of his favorite things in his rather remarkable, rather fascinating, ode-to-mom web page "Factum Non Fabula: Julie Andrews/Adolf Hitler - Bastards & Blood," and respectfully gives us a very sweet slice of his own mind, to ponder and pick at from behind the cathode-ray glass exhibit wall (which is there for your protection ladies and gentlemen... please do not tap on the glass).
    (via BoingBoing!)

"On a clear day you can see... um..."

The Association of International Glaucoma Societies presented an operatic hymn about glaucoma in June of 2005 at the Imperial Viennese Glaucoma Ball. Written and composed by Erik Greve and performed by the lovely soprano Melanie Greve (left, squint... oops, I mean click to enlarge). You can download an MP3 of the song here, or hear the song and read the lyrics at the AIGS home page here.

"A phone that gives you access to your belief wherever you are..."

Niche marketing heaven: Ilkone offers the world's first and only Islamic cell phone, a mobile phone for Muslims that "...gives you access to your belief wherever you are."  Equipped with a 5-times-a-day prayer alarm reminder and a GPS-enabled compass, users can now easily find the direction of Mecca. Phone includes the complete Holy Quran (with approved translation by Al-Azhar), and accesses the voices of Azan of Mecca, Madina and Cairo from anywhere in the world, as well as appropriate designs on the casing and screen.

Meanwhile, Back at the Secret Lair of the Confirmed Bachelor...

Thanks so very much to listener Coye who sent me the link to SuperDickery.com, a growing collection of covers and snippets of pages from the golden age of comic books (mostly the 40s, 50s and 60s), that can obviously be looked at very differently today. SuperDickery.com's main gallery page is here (pick your old-fashioned vice), but of interest is the "Seduction of the Innocent" section, which milks that good old reliable in super hero comics: homosexual overtones, for everything it's worth and then some (examples left and right - click to enlarge). Even the most naive and optimistic among us cannot deny that by today's standards these examples are shocking. Intentional or not? Have a look and you'll agree it's hard to tell exactly. Were these earnest attempts at wholesome comic art in their day, seen only now as value-corrupting, amoral sleaze because of our society's increasingly jaded addiction to lurid sensation? Or were these old comics cruel pranks created by sick perverts with malformed brains who secretly knew exactly what they were drawing? Far be it from me to reveal their true identity. I suppose in a day when you couldn't view women's ankles, guys had to get their thrills the old fashioned way: by drawing Robin "unintentionally" giving a bank robber a rim job while tackling him from behind. Kind of makes you wonder how Mike Diana's Boiled Angel will be looked at decades from now.

"Do They Know It's Halloween?"

"They don't know the fear/we endure once a year... do they know it's Halloween at all?" Parody/cheeky-homage of classic/infamous 80s Band-Aid charity record, by a group calling themselves the North American Halloween Prevention Initiative, includes Elvira Mistress of the Dark, Russel Mael, Beck, Thurston Moore, Malcolm McLaren, Karen O, Devendra Banhart, Joey Waronker, Peaches, David Cross and lots of others. Lots of fun... on Vice records, all profits benefit UNICEF. Read about it at Vice here and here, also recently in the NYTimes. Watch the kooky video here (no group sing-along shots - unfortunately?).

"Potentially the most blasphemous movie since Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band."

So they are filming this very heavy movie on my street. The film is called "Across The Universe" and is directed by Julie Taymor (who directed 'Frida'). Guess what the movie is going to be? What the world so needs right now: a baby boomer self-congratulatory sleaze-fest. According to their write-up, it will be "...a psychedelic musical love story using famous Beatles songs as the source for a whirl-wind tour of the sweeping changes the world experienced in the 1960s" And guess who's in it? Bono! Barf? The set designers have shamelessly raped and pillaged the "charming" Lower East Side at the intersection of Rivington and Clinton streets with super-faux, super-cheeseball 1960s ephemera, ham-fisted graffiti, fake store fronts, period cars with "love 'n peace" painted on them... and even piles of fake trash covered in psychedelic colors (piles of trash that are bolted to the sidewalk so no one steals them) Brilliant! I'm used to having my eyes assaulted with crackheads and stabbings and obstacle courses of dog doo... but now this? One business (I think it's a Korean nail salon) has had it's frontage transformed and has now become... that's right: The Black Panthers' headquarters! They even slathered 60s graffiti and a fake beatnik coffee shop sign over the front of ABC No Rio... ugh... please kill me now.

M. C. Escher would have shopped there...

The curious new Viktor & Rolf boutique in Milan has fashion lovers hitting the ceiling. The Dutch fashion duo created it alongside architect Siebe Tettero and designer Sherrie Zwail. Shop to your hearts content... but bring some Dramamine. The clothes are the only things in the store that are not upside down - even the store's facade, front door and fitting rooms are inverted. Neck braces and LSD not included (and if you're wheelchair-bound, just stay home... please). You can read about it here, here and here. For a slideshow of the store, go to Viktor & Rolf's web site (after getting through all the Flash stuff, click on 'boutique.')

Where's your "Happy Face?"

I can tell that these models wearing their new Paddy Hartley facial corsets are extremely pleased... I think. Like most revolutionary fashion trends, facial corsets blur the lines between the medical/scientific and the trendy/fabulous - merging oral maxillofacial surgery and tissue-engineering with haute couture and the over-40 globe-trotting sex kitten set. Link, link, link and link (all with lots of pics). (via We Make Money Not Art!)

"He felt that I was speaking directly to him. He thought that all of the songs were talking to him, that I was playing them just for him."

My fellow DJs, consider this a public service message in the interest of your well-being. After Pseu Braun's recent post on "DJs gone bad," I've decided to turn my attention to the offense end of the dark court where the DJ/listener relationship lobs (wilts?) back and forth... that lithium-dulled elephant in the studio (on hold just for you at the request line): the "listener gone bad." Let's face it: to a sanity-challenged, occasionally violent, needy warp-job of a human, radio DJs (so easily obtainable with the flick of a knob) are virtually like fish in a barrel. A typical DJs face-less, booming, God-like voice is like a wet palette (or a cutting board) for any wrong person's free-floating delusions, an invisible neurosis-magnet if you will. Just Google "stalk murder DJ radio host" and you'll find a veritable shooting gallery of famously tragic cases from all over the globe. And it's a shame indeed.

However, in my research for this post, I did notice one key factor in the survive-ability of stalked DJs: the ones who made the biggest extroverted drama-queen scream-y fit over their ordeal, from the very beginning, are the ones who are still alive. So DJs, next time you get an email from a listener that seems a tad too informed of your private life, or a phone call from a song-requester that's a little "odd"... don't shrink like a wallflower! Go seizure-fit ape-shit right there and then! Point your finger and screech like Donald Sutherland at the end of the re-make of "Invasion of the Body Snatchers!" Yell "ST-ST-STA-STALKER!" dramatically into the phone or at the computer screen that holds the sinister email! Let EVERYONE see you! Point out that listener's suspicious and inappropriate attention without a moment's hesitation! Do not give that potential stalker even a micro-second to start creeping you out... you need to completely crack-out and over-spazz from second one! If you're live on the air, even better! You just go downright banana peel-smoking, speed-monkey, shout-y crackers! Interrupt the music right in studio, live on the air, and yelp in tear-gulping terror at the top of your lungs just like Adrienne Barbeau in "The Fog" "AHHHH!! STAY AWAY FROM THE FOG!! I'M BEING STALKED!! AAAGGGHHH!!" Do not give a moment's consideration to how foolish or delusional you might seem yourself... it could be the most humiliating, but smartest, thing you ever do!

Some cases in point:

The Racially Profiled Mugshot of Dorian Grey

Worried about your own potential for terrorism in America's airports and subways? Sooth your orange-level jitters at FaceAnalyzer.com, an online face photo analysis service that not only racially profiles you before you get a chance to get hassled by bored, underpaid security personnel at LaGuardia, but also decides what gender you are (in case you're confused), rates your "gay factor," lets you know how well you get along with "Boss Types" and "Drifter Types" and "Academics" (all three of which could easily be pipe bomb makers), and lets you know if you suffer from any personality disorders or rage problems.
    Submit a clear face photo (you ham!), and then you're ready for scrutiny! Oh yea, you have to register at the non-secured site first. Anyway, the binary panel not only judges you like the book cover you obviously are, but it also matches you up to other terrorist cells... oops, I mean "friend groups" so you can hook up with like-minded, free-floating agents who can equally fool security devices. You can all then get together for an explosive night in the city and paint the town red! So take your best surveillance camera-ready, racially-neutral face shot over to FaceAnalyzer.com, where the terrorist threat color code is always a pastoral shade of green, and your mug shot can be cast in a permanent tint of (Dorian) gray...
    I did a little experiment at FaceAnalyzer.com, I submitted two photos of myself...

Flogging a dead horse?

I Hate Horses.

Abu Ghraib - Is It Torture? Or Is It ART? You Decide!

Conceptual surrealistic photography through the ages: (above, figure 1.a) U.S. soldiers make a point by photographing themselves with naked Iraqi prisoners' bodies stacked in the form of a human pyramid, Iraq, 2004. Contrast this with (above, figure 1.b) famed photographer Philippe Halsman making a point of complimenting Salvador Dali with naked women's bodies stacked in the form of a skull, in his portrait "Dali's Skull," New York, 1952.
(click to enlarge images)

Jerry Falwell ÷ Mr. Blackwell - Jan Crouch + Addison DeWitt ≤ Jesus = Mystery Worshiper

Army of God anyone? It's probably all the infinite hours I spent shackled to wooden church pews during my eternal Dallas, Texas Southern Baptist upbringing that attracts me to things of this nature, but to be honest I've never seen a Christian organization like this one... one that spends so much positive energy criticizing itself. The Mystery Worshiper and his many minions go anonymously to churches around the globe, of various denominations, and report back with specific, often hilarious detail about what they think of the services, people, church architecture, whether the congregation was zombified or "clap happy," and an often detailed after-service free coffee and danish critique. Only a calling card is left in the collection plate of the marked church as a sign of the presence of a Mystery Worshiper secret solider. Be sure to check out a review of Cathedral of the Dormition of the Mother of God and All Saints for a good report, and The Redeemed Christian Church of God for the hellish dregs. Fun, unique reading. Also look at their "Fruitcake Zone" listing for more cheap thrills.

I've translated your franchise... IT'S A COOK BOOK!

Most Hysterical Photographs Of The Year Award goes to The Billboard Liberation Front, who yesterday altered a billboard in San Francisco to feature an obese child (probably a leftover from The Maury Povich Show) in sick Ronald McDonald make-up, an alien, a McDonald's golden arches logo, and the words "TO SERVE MAN." The clincher was the animatronic Ronald McDonald feeding a cheeseburger to a mannequin of the enthusiastically wide-gomped fat child, both sitting right in front of the billboard. The perpetrators then dressed as screaming versions of Ronald McDonald and Hamburgler, and celebrated with chants and helium balloons of Ronald's head. Turns out the plan for McDonald's take-over of the eating habits of the planet was nothing more than an extraterrestrial domination and enslavement plan lifted right out of a "Twilight Zone" episode. After the celebration in the park (in which some great photos of gasp-inducing Ronalds being cuffed and hauled into squad cars were taken) the BLF then moved... like an undulating sea of yellow, red and white vomit... into a nearby McDonald's location, where the nightmarish reverie commenced. These photos literally had me laughing so hard I spilled my piping hot morning McDonald's coffee into my lap and I'm getting my lawyer on the phone right now! Photos found on BoingBoing and also Laughing Squid. Great photos.

The Vivisectionist's Monster Mash

Take a hallucinatory, glue-fumed, nostalgic stroll down memory lane with Ed Moore's gallery of vintage Aurora Monster Model Kit instruction sheets... as well as other ephemera from an era where "dripping blood" typeface was di rigeur, and Vampira's airbrushed cleavage caused more than the dead to rise. The black and white model instruction sheets, with their vivisectional horror icons and M. C. Escher-esque complexities of lines, arrows, grafts and chart intersections, are works of art in themselves, suitable for framing. How old do you have to be to understand something this complex? Perhaps huffing itty bitty jars of model paint and tubes of lemon-scented super glue puts it all into crystal clear perspective. I remember I actually had one of these kits as a little kid (I think it was the Wolfman) and I couldn't bring myself to paint over the glow-in-the-dark plastic, for some reason it seemed blasphemous. Ed's site has tons of info on the artists responsible for the "look" of Aurora and other model companies' product and packaging.

Can I get you some Pizza Shooters, Shrimp Poppers, Extreme Fajitas or Dog Blood?

In our nauseatingly dumbed-down and meta-hollow times, where the art of rebellion has been diluted with weak imitation and over-repetition, its par for the course to note the practice of the society-aimed prank fading painfully, painfully, painfully into nostalgic blurbscurity. But assimilate not! The absolute genius Rob and his great friends over at the legendary Cockeyed.com are thankfully still carrying the torch of the hilariously rude, even if just on a small scale. Instead of initiating their prank at the geopolitical level... they decided to start at the level of restaurants where the decor consists of street signs indoors, stuffed alligators with sunglasses on them, and waiters who sing you your Million Dollar Birthday Fries. Rob and friends secretly counterfeited a mock-up of a TGI Fridays menu, and sent copies to friends all over the country to slip under the laminated menus of their most despised strip mall TGI Friday's locations, when wait staff and gorging families were distracted by their overpriced globs of deep fried flour.

I know a secret about Goo and you

Apparently I'm not the only one who secretly wishes Stanley Kubrick had concluded his 1964 film "Dr. Strangelove" with the originally scripted ending (an apocalyptically messy food fight between the characters in the war room). "Gunge" is a movement born of outward lust for slapstick, and inward love of the womb. Do I dare make a graph showing the rise of the gunge phenomenon in proportion to plummeting rentals of "Three Stooges" DVDs (which was obviously a secret front for gunge during the prohibition years). But even more daring, do I make the claim that slime is chauvinist?

Sociopaths - they're gonna make it after all!

Having long suspected sociopathic tendencies within myself, and realizing that the pot calling the kettle black is sometimes the only way towards true enlightenment, join me below, as I look in the mirror and offer a confession, suspicious rant, public service announcement on the nature of the sociopath, followed by a link to two fantastic articles (by Texas writer Glenna Whittle) from the Dallas Observer about a particularly noteworthy specimen (left) named Sandra Bridewell.

"Information is the currency of power" vs. "Getting information about the currents of power (co-opting your brain)"

Did you file for U.S. Patent 3,951,1344? Are you a secret supporter of MKULTRA and H.A.A.R.P.? Are you involved in a worldwide plan driving a subliminal force secretly programming sleeper agents like Lee Harvey Oswald, John Hinckley, Timothy McVeigh, Sirhan Sirhan and David Koresh?  Is tinfoil your nemesis? Are you actually sending radioactive waves into my brain right now to command me to type this? Let's break the ice and get to know each other. MindControlForums.com has created a Totally Anonymous, Untraceable Questionnaire for Electronic Harassment/Mind Control Perpetrators for us, so we can finally communicate with each other in a format my conscious mind, and other witnesses, are more familiar with. Please answer the questions to the best of your abilities (or to the extent that your overlords will allow). If you're unsure of what to say, please refer to other responses for guidance. Might be good to get a few things off your chest before you enter that secret doorway inside my closet wall and ride that aluminum tube elevator down into the hollow Earth back to your Gray and Reptilian wife and kids, or your job in the assembly line at the secret radio transmitter tooth implant factory (I know you're chummy with my orthodontist, why can't we have that kind of close relationship?) Please just let me know what's on your mind before you put stuff in my mind.

Elizabeth (Liz, Lisa) Brady Cabot Winslow - elaborate internet hoax, or a prodigy in many fields!?

Some people one-up the very notion of "Carpe Diem" and instead annihilate each and every day into a super nova of life-fulfilling potential, reaching unbelievable heights. On the other hand some people, no matter how hard they try, just can't seem to catch a break. Some people inhabit both of these realms. While normal slobs are sitting watching cable TV and making excuses, Elizabeth (Liz, Lisa) Brady Cabot Winslow, who has apparently descended from world-wide royalty and the Hollywood elite, has constructed a daily life experience that encapsulates James Bond, Albert Einstein, Wonder Woman, Harry Caul, Laura Mars and Mork From Ork ...at least that is according to her extensive home page/resume/cry for consideration. She doesn't just raise the bar, she lights the ends of it on fire and does a baton-twirling routine with it (that is until she has to flee the stage when a lone gunman tries to assassinate her from the balcony).

"You kids turn down that damn room tone!"

While there's no answer to the philosophical questions laid down by John Cage's classic "4:33," this of course hasn't stopped many artists from taking a hearty stab at a conceptual rebuttal anyway. Some (perhaps without even trying) get closer than others.

British artist and musician David Cunningham takes the natural "silence" of random public and private spaces, and subtly amplifies it to the foreground. Using a location's own real-time audible (and inaudible) "background" noise as a source, Cunningham installs simple equipment (a microphone/speaker/amplifier/noise gate set-up) that records, amplifies and loops the natural sounds refracted within each location, feeding it back to the space itself in real time, re-focusing people's ears to "listen" to sounds in quiet spaces where they might not normally do so. The goal of his Activated Space project is "...to develop and present a series of installations that alter an architectural space to allow its resonant frequencies to become audible and interactive."