Monday, August 24, 2009
The finally found bigfoot. Phew!
What a relief, I'm glad to know that Smosh got to the bottom of that mystery. I was getting a little apprehensive about my upcoming trip to the Sierras. Now I can rest at ease.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Paris, I love you, too!
In this video, we learn that Paris loves everything. The color pink, lasagna, her boobs.
Paris: "You've never had sex?"
Anonymous Paris Hilton Fan: "Nope, never had sex."
Paris: "I love that!!"
??
Random.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
My VMA votes . . . .
It's that magical time of year again, MTV's Video Music Awards are just around the corner. Here's my picks:
1) Best Female: Taylor Swift, "You Belong to Me"
2) Best Hip-Hop: Eminem, "We Made You"
3) Best Male: Eminem, "We Made You"
4) Best New Artist: Lady Gaga, "Poker Face"
5) Best Pop: Lady Gaga, "Poker Face"
6) Best Rock: Green Day, "21 Guns"
7) Breakthrough Video: Gnarls Barkly, "Who's Gonna Save My Soul"
8) Best Video (that should have won a Moonman): Beastie Boys, "Sabotage"
Crossing my fingers!
Vote here:
http://www.mtv.com/ontv/vma/2009/categories.jhtml
Cut the ribbon: This Side of Paradise
. . . and the reading marathon of the Everyman's Library 100 essentials begins. I'm starting things out with a bang by reading F. Scott Fitzgerald's first novel, and, incidentally, the novel that made him famous: This Side of Paradise. He was only twenty-two when he wrote it. Wow.
The first draft of the novel was rejected by the publishers, so Fitzgerald had to revise things before they took it up. He revised with fury and passion: if this novel didn't make it, he knew he'd lose his chances forever with the lovely Zelda Sayre.
Zelda, a well-to-do southern belle, broke off her engagement to him after about a year, when it seemed like Fitzgerald's career was going nowhere. After This Side of Paradise turned him into a celebrity, she decided she liked him after all. Sounds like true love. Fitzgerald was so smitten that he took her back . . . but he always held it against her.
Rightly so.
I don't like her.
The first draft of the novel was rejected by the publishers, so Fitzgerald had to revise things before they took it up. He revised with fury and passion: if this novel didn't make it, he knew he'd lose his chances forever with the lovely Zelda Sayre.
Zelda, a well-to-do southern belle, broke off her engagement to him after about a year, when it seemed like Fitzgerald's career was going nowhere. After This Side of Paradise turned him into a celebrity, she decided she liked him after all. Sounds like true love. Fitzgerald was so smitten that he took her back . . . but he always held it against her.
Rightly so.
I don't like her.
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Oh no! U2 neutered rock 'n' roll!
Just finished listening to Mutemath's latest: Armistice. Red-flags, anyone? Is it just me, or should a rock band never be named Mutemath? And Armistice is borderline. It calls to mind some grand, important, serious statement. And rock 'n' roll should never be grand, important, or, above all, serious. Whatever happened to the sweat and the sex in rock? It really hasn't been there since the Rolling Stones. Here's my theory as to how the the lusty house of rock that Chuck Berry built got bulldozed.
The Rolling Stones may be to blame (I'm getting to U2). They were so sexy, so sleazy, and so exciting that I think every rock band wanted to be like them, one way or another. So every band tried to outsex the Stones and what we got in the '70s was one bare-chested band after the next, strutting their hot sweaty stuff, pumping out the jams like musical stallions. And rock became so big, so anthemic and so dripping in machismo that we . . . had had enough of it by the end of the decade. Except for the 80s hair metal bands who kinda kept the machismo thing alive but dropped the sexy. (Unless u think spandex is sexy?)
Enter punk rock. Rock kept its angst but it was stripped of sex: in other words, it was stripped of the blues. And those bad-ass brats were so ugly . . . intentionally. It takes a special breed of groupie to daydream about getting her upper protuberance snagged on some guy's lip ring, and her fingers tangled in his greasy, half-grown out mohawk. Don't matter if he's a rock star: ew. Punk rock is not sexy and that's what one thing, among many things, that made it inconoclastic in its day.
And then there was college rock. I guess that would be rock music for literate, thoughtful people like Michael Stipe. Again, cool and fun and catchy, but not sexy. Not rock 'n' roll. But at least you can hear the punk influence, and at least punk has an edge.
And then U2 and all of U2's alternative offspring (Coldplay) come along. The music is stripped of its thrashing, punk angst. We are left with cavernous spaces, tribal beats, and the wild voice of a native (Bono) belting out the heart-wrenching progressive message of truth, telling the tale the Native Americans never lived to tell. (?) Either that or singing the song of the repentant sinner. (How far away from Mick Jagger can you get?!!) The Edge's minimalistic guitar scintillates with nary a blue note. And everybody hails these guys as the best thing to happen to rock because, well, their music is so "good" and "spiritual" and all that jazz. And it's loud and has a backbeat, so therefore it must be rock, right?
Wrong! You take the blues out of rock and you no longer have rock. You take the sex out of rock and you no longer have rock. You have potentially good music with energy and a back beat, essentially amped-up singer-songwriter fare . . . but not rock.
I bet you can guess which side of the line Mutemath fall on.
After listening to an hour of Mutemath, I recovered by listening to Prince.
The Rolling Stones may be to blame (I'm getting to U2). They were so sexy, so sleazy, and so exciting that I think every rock band wanted to be like them, one way or another. So every band tried to outsex the Stones and what we got in the '70s was one bare-chested band after the next, strutting their hot sweaty stuff, pumping out the jams like musical stallions. And rock became so big, so anthemic and so dripping in machismo that we . . . had had enough of it by the end of the decade. Except for the 80s hair metal bands who kinda kept the machismo thing alive but dropped the sexy. (Unless u think spandex is sexy?)
Enter punk rock. Rock kept its angst but it was stripped of sex: in other words, it was stripped of the blues. And those bad-ass brats were so ugly . . . intentionally. It takes a special breed of groupie to daydream about getting her upper protuberance snagged on some guy's lip ring, and her fingers tangled in his greasy, half-grown out mohawk. Don't matter if he's a rock star: ew. Punk rock is not sexy and that's what one thing, among many things, that made it inconoclastic in its day.
And then there was college rock. I guess that would be rock music for literate, thoughtful people like Michael Stipe. Again, cool and fun and catchy, but not sexy. Not rock 'n' roll. But at least you can hear the punk influence, and at least punk has an edge.
And then U2 and all of U2's alternative offspring (Coldplay) come along. The music is stripped of its thrashing, punk angst. We are left with cavernous spaces, tribal beats, and the wild voice of a native (Bono) belting out the heart-wrenching progressive message of truth, telling the tale the Native Americans never lived to tell. (?) Either that or singing the song of the repentant sinner. (How far away from Mick Jagger can you get?!!) The Edge's minimalistic guitar scintillates with nary a blue note. And everybody hails these guys as the best thing to happen to rock because, well, their music is so "good" and "spiritual" and all that jazz. And it's loud and has a backbeat, so therefore it must be rock, right?
Wrong! You take the blues out of rock and you no longer have rock. You take the sex out of rock and you no longer have rock. You have potentially good music with energy and a back beat, essentially amped-up singer-songwriter fare . . . but not rock.
I bet you can guess which side of the line Mutemath fall on.
After listening to an hour of Mutemath, I recovered by listening to Prince.
Since the beginning of the world and the dawn of time . . .
lol . . . that's how I like to begin my study of any topic. So this study of English literature is going all the way back to 450 AD: the Anglo-Saxon conquest of Britain.
Before I briefly guide you through 1,000 years of the English language's evolution, let me first say that I am very impressed by The Norton Anthology of English Literature so far. It is among the first and only academic texts I have ever read where the editors are not trying to impress me by confusing me. Thank you!
So, since time immemorial, the Celts lived in Britain. They were conquered by the Romans, who were then conquered by the Anglo-Saxons. Anglo-Saxon is just a hyphenation of Angle and Saxon, those two tribes both hailing from Germany.
The English language as we know it really begins with the Anglo-Saxon invasion. These German speaking tribes furnished us with a stock, German vocabulary. The language of this period is known as Old English. Old English can only be read in translation. Old English is, essentially, German.
In the 11th century, the Normans (people from Normandy, France), invaded and brought the French language with them. And there you have it. English is basically a fusion of German and French. It took some time, however, for the vocabulary and grammar to completely evolve away from Old English into Middle English. Middle English is the language spoken by Chaucer in the 14th century. With a little help, modern English speakers can read Middle English. Again, Middle English is a fusion of German and French.
Fun fact: the Wars of the Roses in the 14th century helped to accelerate the development of Middle English. These wars between the English and French resulted in English patriotism and interest in their own vernacular language and, ostensibly, a dislike for all things French. (Up until the 14th century, French was the language spoken by the educated and upper classes). During the 14th century, Parliament began conducting proceedings in English. Geoffrey Chaucer, a popular and influential poet in his own time, championed English by writing poetry in English instead of French or Latin.
Main points to remember:
Old English (essentially German, from the Anglo-Saxon tribes)
Middle English (post-Norman invasion, German + French, the language of Chaucer)
Before I briefly guide you through 1,000 years of the English language's evolution, let me first say that I am very impressed by The Norton Anthology of English Literature so far. It is among the first and only academic texts I have ever read where the editors are not trying to impress me by confusing me. Thank you!
So, since time immemorial, the Celts lived in Britain. They were conquered by the Romans, who were then conquered by the Anglo-Saxons. Anglo-Saxon is just a hyphenation of Angle and Saxon, those two tribes both hailing from Germany.
The English language as we know it really begins with the Anglo-Saxon invasion. These German speaking tribes furnished us with a stock, German vocabulary. The language of this period is known as Old English. Old English can only be read in translation. Old English is, essentially, German.
In the 11th century, the Normans (people from Normandy, France), invaded and brought the French language with them. And there you have it. English is basically a fusion of German and French. It took some time, however, for the vocabulary and grammar to completely evolve away from Old English into Middle English. Middle English is the language spoken by Chaucer in the 14th century. With a little help, modern English speakers can read Middle English. Again, Middle English is a fusion of German and French.
Fun fact: the Wars of the Roses in the 14th century helped to accelerate the development of Middle English. These wars between the English and French resulted in English patriotism and interest in their own vernacular language and, ostensibly, a dislike for all things French. (Up until the 14th century, French was the language spoken by the educated and upper classes). During the 14th century, Parliament began conducting proceedings in English. Geoffrey Chaucer, a popular and influential poet in his own time, championed English by writing poetry in English instead of French or Latin.
Main points to remember:
Old English (essentially German, from the Anglo-Saxon tribes)
Middle English (post-Norman invasion, German + French, the language of Chaucer)
