"Dancing Choose" by TV on the Radio

First version: TV on the Radio's latest video "Dancing Choose" engages the viewer with an artistic vision of man trying to find his way through a cosmopolitan comic book landscape of disorienting angles that leader singer Tunde Adebimpe tries to sort out with an emphatic wave of his hands to a beat that is as rapid fire as the lyrics he spits of urban American confusion.

Second version: TV on the Radio's latest video "Dancing Choose" continues their trend of artsy music videos with the vision of a man stumbling through a cosmopolitan comic book landscape of disorienting angles and textures. Leader singer Tunde Adebimpe tries to make sense of the urban chaos with an emphatic wave and clap of his hands as he spits the tale of American angst to a beat that will have you tapping your dancing shoe.

One sentence excercise= very hard and surprisingly verbose.
Two sentences=seemingly better?

The Great Outdoors coffeehouse

Besides a backyard of gigantic peat-moss elephants and a thriving community of potted plants for sale, The Great Outdoors coffeehouse offers Austinites a colorful array of hot and iced caffeinated beverages, vegetarian/vegan conscious snacks and sandwiches, and the kindness of the counter girl who will give you a bag of ice for your twisted ankle.

Anti-ACL--an explanation

If ACL's in town and you were either too cheap to buy a ticket or there's nothing you dislike more being one with a sweaty mass of people, standing on your tippy toes the whole day to steal a glance of your favorite band then you might fit in with the anti-ACL-ers because let's face it: there's them and then there's us.

And what did we do this weekend?
+Got the hell out of town!
+Slept in, and watched YouTube videos of our favorite acts' live performances in bed.
+Pretended we went, happened to miss all the text messages to meet up, but the Octopus Project put on an awesome show, didn't they?
+In protest, listened to Mozart the whole weekend claiming rather fastidiously that the brilliance and angst-ridden intricacies of Wolfgang's symphonies are unmatchable--period.

Either way, the one belief we anti-ACL'ers operate under is that we didn't miss anything... (though I know some of us secretly have our doubts) and at least we still have those $200 still in our pockets (or elsewhere anyway), and we have standards for our live shows (for whatever good that will do). Personally, I'm holding out for funfunfun fest which hopefully will give us music lovers the a chance to see good bands sans heat stroke and exhaustion.

Burn After Reading

The Coen brothers have won four Academy awards with their ability to concoct plots that blur genres while captivating movie goers with twists and a knack for suspense and drama. The fact that they cast Oscar caliber actors doesn't hurt either.

Their new film Burn After reading follows the desires of a middle aged woman, Linda Litske (Frances McDormand), who believes that plastic surgery will save her from a solitary life of working full time at a gym. After finding a an abandoned CD in the locker room, she and her airhead co-worker Chad interpret the memoirs of a recently fired and embittered CIA analyst Osbourne Cox, as super confidential intelligence that leads them to embark on a scheme to blackmail the money out of the unsuspecting Cox with the end goal of getting enough money to pay for Linda's cosmetic operations. What starts out as the simple hope of receiving a reward for the information turns into an all out war between the wonderfully explosive alcoholic John Malkovich, as Osbourne Cox and a fearless Frances McDormand as the no longer pathtic, self-important Linda Litske. The plan runs amuck as it ropes in the people around them, including Osbourne's unfaithful wife and her lover (as well as Linda's lover) , the lady hungry chain wearing Harry Pfarrer, played uncannily well by George Clooney. The characters' wants and actions clash to weave a web so complex even the CIA can't seem to untangle exactly what is going on.

This ninety-six minute comedy had me laughing from the very beginning and left me wide-eyed in disbelief at the absurdity of the end. A fun, bumpy ride and another win for the Coen brothers.

When there is nothing good on the tube... there's ME TV Channel 15

It's crazy. There are some weeks where I'm begging to be bored. All I need is just an hour to myself, oh and to veg out in front of the television. Ah the TV. A luxury (a vacuum of potential, of productivity) when you've been going one hundred miles an hour with just enough time to get seven hours of sleep the TV offers an outlet to just zone out. But I'm picky to what I like to veg to.

I tell you, I don't watch TV that often but when I do, there are a couple of channels that I rely on to make me feel good about my boobtube experience. Besides Maury on KXAN Channel 12 (I just love the drama even though I know it turns my brain into garbage), one of those channels is ME TV, Music and Entertainment Television, a local channel whose station is located on South Congress in what I heard was once a studio for porno films. I smile every time I see the message in the marquee "ME TV TURN ME ON."

I like this channel for several reasons.

1) Music videos! Woohoo! With the true spirit of MTV long forgotten, ME TV brings back an authentic interest into what musicians are doing--making albums, playing shows, and making music videos.

2)The variety of videos is impressive too. I find myself always tuning in to the popular rap/hip-hop which, depending on my mood, I get or don't get. ME TV has a bunch of programs such as Airwaves which plays the more popular videos along with new indie videos and Tex-Mix which exclusively features Texan artists. Lately, what I've been catching are in-studio/live performances from bands I've never heard of or seen. There's nothing more stimulating than seeing new music and the musicians who craft it. And finally

3)When they say Music and Entertainment, they actually mean what they say. During SXSW and other Austin music festivals, their VJ's work around the clock catching interviews with any artist/filmmaker that has something to say. More importantly, if you like going to shows, ME has something as indispensable as the Austin Chronicle and that is its show ticker which scrolls across the bottom of the screen listing the day's shows at each venue. Yup, it's pretty freaking sweet.

Although I know fashion addictions have people watching reruns of Project Runway, jonesing for more, I write to offer another option. ME TV. If you're going to be watching something just for the sake of watching something, watch this. And check out the website too-- points of interest: interviews with Sharon Jones, Erykah Badu, and Will Ferrell ME Television

Local Businesses--the Flavor of Austin

So what is it about Austin that gives this place more character than, say, a suburb around Dallas? Many people fail to realize that at the heart Austin's culture, the source of Austin's eclectic appearance, the places that color the popular arteries of this city such as South Congress and Guadalupe St. are the local, independently owned businesses.

I've always had an aversion to chain restaurants but never thought about it critically. An ad on 91.7FM, probably KOOP Radio, got me thinking about it. They had me curious. So I checked out the website for the Austin Independent Business Alliance, www.ibuyaustin.com, and here's what I found out. According to the AIBA, shopping locally is outstanding for Austin's economy. When you make a purchase from a locally owned business, the amount of money that makes a local economic impact is three times more than if you were to do your shopping at a national chain. Even though I understand the importance of all this, the main thing to me is the diversity of places, services, and goods Austin has to offer its residents. There is nothing uglier to me than the face of development. When access roads become pimpled with Targets, Office Depot's, Chili's, and other chains, all within the span of a month or so (ever had one of those moments driving down the highway and thinking to yourself 'Where in the hell did that come from!?'), there is really nothing going on other than a perfect picture of America's consumerism.

No, I like to support places that have real faces, real people, real owners taking risks. It's these places that give Austin its character and charm.

Mr. Natural--A Review

I am not a stranger nor a hater to vegetarian cooking. As an ecstatic lover of vegetables I was enthused about trying Mr. Natural, a restaurant/bakery located on S. Lamar that I had heard good things about. I had envisioned an array of steaming hot, colorful vegetarian dishes, each one looking better than the last. What I failed to realize was that the cafeteria set up of the restaurant put a huge damper on my fantasy of this vegetarian cookery.

The cold, fluorescent interior is a bit deterring. In the left corner sits the food line and the menu. It was Mexican food day and the main course was a choice between  cheese enchiladas or picking from a tray of burrito halves, with the option of two sides. The laidback appearance afforded by a cafeteria environment is understandable, but the appearance of the food was not enticing. It seemed everything had been hurriedly prepared and chunked into a plastic tray to be put in a cooler, where countering my fantasy, nothing was steaming. The pintos looked like a brown, dour tasteless soup at the end of the line, the enchiladas sat squished together in a pale sauce without garnish. I supposed that to Mr. Natural, vegetarian cooking can not be decorated or pleasing to the eye. It says something that I opted to try one of the less expensive menu items--the veggie burger made with soy protein. My friend chose the BBQ burger.

It took a little too long to get our burgers to us, considering the place was more than half empty. They were finally brought out to us with a small side of tortilla chips and tiny cup of watery salsa. The burgers were sandwiched between toasted crusty pieces of wheat bread rather than the traditional buns and they seemed to be overflowing with sprouts, a favorite veggie of mine. The soy patty itself was seasoned well but it had been cooked too long; the edges were too crunchy and the patty seemed shrunken. Surprisingly, my friend's BBQ sandwich looked tasty, the big pieces of gloppy barbecued fake meat pouring out the sides. I liked the chewiness of the filling and its nondescript, sweet barbecue-y taste.

Maybe we went on an off day. Maybe I should have filled my plate with something off of the lunch line. Maybe I should give this place another shot because I know people who swear by Mr. Natural. Although, without a doubt, I'm sure I can make prettier and better tasting veggie dishes/salads/sandwiches sans the $7 price tag. Mr. Natural is probably a reliable place to go to for fast, healthy food on a lunch break. But if you are looking to be impressed by vegetarian cooking, it may be a better idea to find a vegetarian recipe and do it yourself.

Pastoralia by George Sanders--a review

So I'm a little behind on the George Saunders bandwagon. This acclaimed writer has been concocting essays, short stories and novellas for a decade or so. His writing leans toward the absurd aspects of human life as he explores the themes of consumerism and morality. I did not know anything about Saunders until my Humor in Writing course. Professor Egerton (an improvisational comedian and published writer himself) read for us from one of Saunders' books, a piece called "Ask the Optimist" in which a super happy advice columnist ends up getting into nearly physical straits with one of those in need, a pathetic sort of character desperately needing advice on how to get his girlfriend back. The piece had the entire class laughing. When Professor Owen Egerton generously decided to lend out some of his books, I greedily picked out Pastoralia, a selection of short stories by Saunders.

From the first page of the first story, you immediately realize that Saunders is not a typical writer of fiction. The scene he describes in his first story, "Pastoralia," is one of disorienting incongruity as the reader enters the life of man paid to act as a neanderthal in a lifelike diorama, a spectacle for modern day tourists. The settings of each of his stories cannot easily be compared with a reality we are familiar with. What individualizes each story are the little details Saunders includes which give his environments a bizarro, alien sort of feeling such as with the caveman setting of the title story "Pastoralia", or that in "Sea Oak", an apartment complex rife with trigger happy child gangs. Saunders manages to successfully bring together these odd contexts with characters whose depth and voice cannot be mistaken for anything but flesh and blood human beings.

The stories are written in Saunders' dialect--idiosyncratic, quick, masculine, and matter of fact. Saunders as a narrator is a voice that melds with the protagonist. The perspective is amazingly flexible and omniscient, capable of cruelty and compassion. While he describes the grave misfortunes of his characters, underachievers who try to make sense of the scraps God has given them, he gives them a light at the end of the tunnel, ways to redeem themselves. It's funny how Saunders' characters share the same underlying sense of failure, either knowingly or unknowingly, and the reader is able to connect with a helpless hopelessness. But all of this may be terribly misleading. What is important to know is that Pastoralia is above all else is a collection of stories that are inventive, hilarious, and written with insight and compassion. Saunders is close to his characters in a way that most authors cannot accomplish.

My own opinion of this book matches the rave reviews plastered all across the jacket of this book. Saunders' voice cannot be mistaken for anything but extraordinary. Very excited to learn from and read more of this author.

Ratatat @ Stubb's September 15th

As I entered Stubb’s Bar-B-Q, the dream outdoor venue for acts with lights and visual spectaculars, I spotted the person responsible for the intoxicating pulse of electronic music that could be heard all the way from 9th St. and Red River where I had parked my car.
The nameless, masked opener spent an hour weaving a complicated tapestry of beats and beeps to a backdrop of projection of a man in a freefall, spinning in no certain direction into what looked like an extreme acid trip. The best thing about the faceless DJ was the energy he imparted to the growing crowd, convincing people to pick up their feet and dance. The reverberations of the bass alone moved bodies involuntarily, echoing in the chest like a shout in a cavern. Not a bad opening for Ratatat.The next band left more to be desired. Panther, a drummer & singer duo, seemed to hop on to the keep-indie-weird-but-danceable bandwagon. Their only problem was that both players lacked stage presence. The average Joe singer shrieked awkwardly as the drummer kept time with fast, interesting enough beats.

Afterwards, the crowd was rattling around in excitement, the cloud of marijuana smoke overhead growing wider with anticipation. Finally, Ratatat appeared in a bright haze as their name rose behind them on a projector in big block letters. The sound of the first few Zelda-esque notes rang out, hints of epic solos to be heard. Their opening tune was new, forgettable. But not ones to disappoint, the band chose wisely to intersperse their setlist with songs from “Classics” (a fitting name, considering the songs on this album are the ones that everyone knows) with their new songs--experimental, at times a bit slower and thoughtful. My own favorite, “Lex,” started with a triumphant guitar and as the keyboardist slowed the banging of his head, the song fell into one of Ratatat's idiosyncratic complex and velvety lulls. These brief musical interludes make the instrumentals of Ratatat more profound than other acts that try to give electronic music depth with little luck. The entire show was characterized by anticipation for the next favorite, especially the final song, "Seventeen." Unfortunately, this song fell flat in comparison to the others. It sounded unrehearsed, a bit craggy, and energy deficient (on the band's part) concluding an all- around decent show. 

The band did win points, however, for their visual accompaniment, one of the best I’ve seen. Each song was tied to a new palette, theme, and set of images ranging from hypercolor primitive yarn drawings to feathered haired babes from the 70s with eyes and mouths a-twirl. If Ratatat didn’t have the audience transfixed, the projections certainly did. The band members appeared to be Technicolor dream gods amidst a sea of fans.

Heartsrevolution @ Beauty Bar September 11th

Scion, the super-hip customize your own car company, has a brilliant way of getting young people to hop on their bandwagon, literally. Not only to they do they manufacture sleek looking sedans, but they host free shows, parties and film screenings in major cities around the United States. With acts like Redman, Simian Mobile Disco, and Talib Kweli, you can bet that Scion has received its share of attention. And by partnering up with Vice Records, they've managed to gain a fair amount of influence on what's hip in the music scene.

I know that when I saw that email in my inbox about a party at the beauty bar with headliners Midnight Juggernauts and Heartsrevolution, I knew it would be a good time. These things could only be better if they weren't so packed and the drinks were free. Arriving there late, as usual, I could see that the place was obviously packed with people bottlenecked at the entrance into the bar, which unfortunately was right in front of one of the speakers next to the stage at the front. Once I squeezed past gaggles of tight panted, black haired hipsters, I finally got to view Heartsrevolution, well, from behind a bunch of bobbing heads. On the microphone, a petite Asian looking girl dressed simply in shorts and a t-shirt sang, her voice anything but pretty. Her voice was loud and raw but when synchronized to the noveau 80-esque beat, made for quality club dance music that had a reliable beat and rhythm. Fans in the front were jumping up and down and I did what I could from the pack to move to the music, though it was pretty crowded and I had my elbows make me some room. Honestly, I hadn't known much of Heartsrevolution other than their catchy hit "C.Y.O.A (Choose Your Own Adventure)" which has been used in many a dance mix.
So an aesthetically pleasing Bust magazine article I found on their myspace page, I was able to read up on these guys--- a link: Heartsrevolution article

Overall, a rowdy show but not too crowded to enjoy the loud dance music and have a good time.

Why? @ Mohawk September 8th

Why?, the “folk-pop, indie-hop, sometimes-mustachioed, psych-rock quartet that operates out of the Oakland Bay Area" as described by the Anticon website, includes lead man and former solo project Yoni Wolf on vocals and drums, Josiah Wolf on percussion, drums and xylophone, Doug McDiarmid on keyboard, and Matt Meldon on guitar. On the night Why? visited Austin, the Mohawk was utterly packed. Both balconies were crammed with people, and bouncers were shooing stragglers from gathering on the stairs. The group set up on the outside stage surrounded on nearly all sides by admirers. As a part of the infamous Anticon, a label that hosts an array of eclectic musicans/rap artists/poets, the group’s fan base are of a certain die-hard, latest-EP-collecting caliber. Having only heard their latest album Alopecia, released March of this year,  I felt a little out of place. I stood at the right side of the stage, at drummer Josiah Wolf's back, watching his arms slam on his drums in time as his brother, Yoni, tapped sprinkling simple, pretty background melodies on the xylophone. Yoni sang musical poetry wrought with irony, suicide-notes, and sweet/sour themes, staying true to the tunes of the album tracks so that the fans in the front row could sing along. Their show was a true collaboration of all musicians. The songs are layered with instruments and voices. The band has a penchant for ooh's and ah's and for the perfect mesh of synchronicity and complementary sounds that invented the rhythms prevalent on their latest album. Their performance of "The Sad Song of the Assassin" began slowly, punctuated by pounding drum breaks and sing-song choruses led by keyboard and guitar. It closed with a round of chanting and simultaneous sounds from all band members. In between songs, Yoni would charm the audience effortlessly while taking shots of Jaeger, living up to the oddly humble rockstar vision fans have come to expect from Why? Just four shaggy haired, unassuming guys making music people love with fervor.

For a glimpse into their live show, check out Anticon's live performance of “Song of Sad Assassin,” at the Dublab.

WHY? - "Song of the Sad Assassin" live at Dublab

I must be hungry...

...but speaking of restaurants I wanted to bring up another place that changed my mind. Once deemed to be the home of yuppie priced tacos, I think it's safe to say that I have seen the light and the verdict is in: I love Torchy's Tacos.

Located on S. 1st street, this new non-trailer location (I think it opened less than 6 months ago) is never empty. There are always Austinites coming in, jonesing for their favorite taco. The menu includes an assortment of interesting combinations including Bre's fave, the Trailer trash taco which has fried chicken, poblano ranch, and lettuce on a flour tortilla. Haven't tried that one, though it looks creamy and delicious and obviously unhealthly but I did expand my horizons on my last visit there and decided to diverge from my breakfast taco routine. I tried the Brushfire taco with jerk chicken, cold pieces of mango on top of grilled marinated jalepenos. For a final firey punch, the whole thing was covered with Torchy's own diablo sauce, a thick orange sauce that has scorched my tastebuds on every visit (I must admit, I'm a bit of a masochist when it comes to spicy foods). Even though the tacos are considerably pricier than your average taqueria, its worth it. The fresh ingredients and portion size alone are enough to keep me waiting in line in the morning. And I'll tell you, the Brushfire filled me up, the sweet golden chunks of mango added to the savoriness of the chicken, and my mouth stung for at least half an hour afterwards. Ahhh, that's what I call a good taco.

But I'll tell you (Warning: TMI moment), the Brushfire, while a tasty experience doesn't leave you the next day quite so enjoyably. Oh, the woe of hot salsa addicts....


It was totally worth it.

Freddie's on a Sunday afternoon

I know it must be because I think like a kid and enjoy the simple pleasures of dogs performing like circus elephants, colorful talking birds, and hearing live renditions of the National Anthem on the accordion that I want to share this.

I was invited out to spend to enjoy a playdate with babes and grownups at the Zilker park playground. I could not turn down an opportunity to see my nephews, Frank, Tom, and Dan, and swim in an oasis of family quality time amidst the hectic tangle of work and school that is life these days. So there we are, grazing in the shade, watching the boys hop and climb and I'm holding baby Frank, who is drooling long yo-yos of spit down my arm when some friends of my sister suggested Freddie's for lunch.


I was hungry so I seemed pretty pleased with the idea even though I had already visited this south Austin restaurant once and hadn't been too impressed. It had been for Freddie's Happy Hour, which happens Tues-Thurs. It's infamy has to be due to the fact that not only do they serve cheap drinks (which, as a scrappy college student used to $2 pints/$2 you call its, didn't seem too cheap to me) but they also set up a station where friendly Freddie's employees hand out free brisket and flour tortillas at 6. You can go there and make a light dinner out of happy hour. While I can't deny the goodness of free meat and tortillas, and cheap beer, I must have been anxious about money, or maybe I didn't eat last time I went because Freddie's didn't stick out in my mind as a place I'd return to.

I'm glad to say that what I saw today helped me figure out the whole idea of Freddie's. This restaurant encapsulates the originality and lightheartedness of the south Austin lifestyle. In case there were any doubts, I'd just like to remind you that there's something to be said for the 78704 zip code. South Austinites are so proud I've seen some cars sport bumper stickers with these digits. I think 78704 when I see that there is a separate entrance for people who have decided to bring their dogs to lunch. Dogs are expected to be on leashes, but that doesn't stop them from poking around, licking baby faces, and having a good time. Always looking for a laugh, I found the servers shirts pretty amusing: on the back of a plain black tee, "F.U. Fred University, "Ice Cold Waitresses, Good-Looking Beers." I also noticed that nearly all of the seating is located outside on a wooden deck. At one end lies the playground and a couple of big picnic tables where our group ate today. In the back left corner next to the playground is a small covered stage, where singers and performers play, according to the Freddie's website, at least 3 if not 4 nights a week.

Today we were witness to a one man circus. We had watched this guy, an average looking character wearing a casual button down and khakis, unload his car while we were waiting for our burgers. In one hand he clutched the leashes of his posse, his lead performers, three good looking mutts with big smiles. These animals were the stars of the show. He started off his show with a song or two on the accordion, which he ended up telling the three toddlers in front of him (and me too, when I couldn't help but get a closer look, if not to stop a tiny blonde girl from robbing the tip bucket), the reasons for his playing accordion. It had started with a joke he thought was hilarious: what Darth Vader would sound like on the accordion. I didn't get it. But from this guy's nonchalant manner, I could tell he wasn't telling these toddlers jokes for laughs. He could have been telling these jokes to people waiting at the bus stop for all he cared, it seemed. For what he lacked in his stand up, he definitely made up for in the show put on by his trained assistants. He had these dogs stand up on their hind quarters, and with a loud BANG with his finger pointed like a gun, they'd fall on the ground and roll over dead. The tricks, especially while Circus accordion playing man* jumped rope with his dog, appropriately named Jumping Jacks, had the attention of children and parents alike. We marveled, we cheered, we put more ketchup on our french fries. It was just plain fun. Afterwards, when the little ones found the slide more interesting than the accordion man's jokes, he closed up the show and made balloon animals for anyone who asked. Even though I really wanted a pink balloon sword, I couldn't get up the nerve to go up... plus, I didn't even have two bucks for a tip.

There are few places that I can vouch for here, a handful of eateries that have impressed me with a friendly, laidback environment that I enjoy. I mean, food, kiddos and dogs. Does life get any better than that that? Freddie's is definitely one of those places I'd like to visit again probably for another Sunday, just to see what other tricks those precocious canines have learned.

*Despite some online research, I could not for the life of me track down the name of this guy. He sang a song that was basically just the name of his circus (to help us remember) and the url to his website but I swear, the url was so long it was laughable.

omgomgomgomgomgomgomg

As homegirl was flipping through the Austin Chronicle this morning and talking about all the good music coming to town (besides ACL), suddenly her jaw dropped.
"MSTRKRFT is coming to Austin," she said, stabbing her finger into the ad in the paper.
WTF. OMG. LOLZ. There are not enough acronyms to contain my excitement. It's just too much.



I CAN NOT BELIEVE THAT THEY ARE FINALLY COMING.
Tickets go on sale tomorrow at 10am. This show WILL sell out. Guaranteed. That's why you can bet your pretty ass I'll be there, hung over and half retarded, and twitching with glee.

Please check out the most rocking Canadians to have ever stepped their Puma clad feet in the states: www.myspace.com/mstrkrft/

These assholes have me green with envy, because you know what their lives consist of... doing the music, making the party, and being worshipped for it. Ah, doesn't that sound nice?

I may just be a kiss ass...

...because this guy is my advisor. But it's not just that. Doug Dorst, California native, creative writing professor at St. Edward's University and three time Jeopardy champion (I hope if I ever get this title, people will always mention it in their descriptions of me), has published a book called Alive in Necropolis that has recently been reviewed in the New York Times as well as in the Austin Chronicle.

The story is about a cop, Michael Mercer, who found his way into law enforcement after "years removed from college, sick of bartending and office temp work. ... Spooked by a creeping sense of his own irrelevance, he was drinking too much, sleeping too much and getting dark-minded and hopeless in a way he feared might be permanent."

From the reviews I've read, and the fact that the story is set in a suburb of San Francisco called Colma, a graveyard to millions and home to twelve hundred living residents, I get the impression that the story is dark,a bit gritty, and superbly written. I can't wait til I have time to pick up a copy. I was lucky enough to take Creative Writing with Dorst in the Spring and was relieved to have a professor who was so open and experienced. He liked to ramble (he would OD on coffee daily) ha, and from what I remember he could go on about something, anything really, and make it seem like it was worth saying--that in itself is a real talent. But he did imbue us with everything he knows about writing short stories and really encouraged us to go there, to be confident in our ideas. Real genuine kinda guy.

So yeah, I'm a kiss ass but it's sincere because he has been one of those few professors that I have enjoyed listening to. Annnnnd, you'll never believe it, but he is actually scheduled to read from his new book next Tuesday September 9th in the Maloney Room.

The poster said there will be a light reception to follow and you know what that means... cheese cubes, biscuits and strawberries! Yeah!

I'll be there. You should be there. It'll be great.

Creepy? Funny?

I am, of course, referring to two men, Tim Heidecker (top photo as Jan Skylar) and Eric Wareheim (bottom, as Wayne Skylar), who appeared into my life approximately two summers ago. It was, as I remember, pretty late, and I was sitting on the couch probably still in my bathing suit eating hot cheetos. It was nearly midnite and suddenly a program came on, a clusterfuck of swirling animations and live action characters whose awkwardness made me squirm in my seat, that made me feel like I had popped a handful of pills or smoked the fattest blunt of my life---in other words, the program left me feeling disoriented, confused but entirely and completely amused. When it was over my boyfriend at the time and I looked at each other when one question on our minds "What the fuck was that?" and "What did that do to our brains?"

The answer was revealed to me when Bre, a lover of the weird and hilarious (think It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, Curb Your Enthusiasm, etc) told me I had to watch something that had really tickled, well, not so much tickled her as had her COMPLETELY OBSESSED. When she asked if I had ever seen Tim and Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! I didn't know what to say. At the time, I felt like what I had witnessed in the ADHD cuts to new skits/scenes, the uncomfortable repetition on some of the animations which played out like a scratched CD, and the feeling that something subliminal and subversive underlined the whole operation, I had been mentally violated.


BUT my feelings quickly changed after being introduced to the series through the Season 1 DVD Bre found at Best Buy. I couldn't help but the shamelessness that Time and Eric displayed as they carried out their jokes. Their ideas are a twisted but that just makes them fascinating. Off the top of my head: Casey and his brother and "Uncle Muscles Hour" --Tim plays Casey, a man-child with a blotchy face and snot that pours out of his nose while he squeaks out songs with titles like "A Song for Mommy" and twitches while his unnamed brother, played by Eric, dances stiffly around a CG background in black sunglasses. There is nothing obviously funny about this whole bit but its utter uncomfortable weirdness. That may explain why this is my least favorite creation of Tim and Eric's and Bre's absolute favorite.

What happens to be my favorite is a regular cameo made by Oscar winning actor, John C. Reilly (seriously, how did these guys get into this gig together?) as Steve Brule, with a segment called Brule's Rules on Channel Five news, wherein Steve, an owl-eyed bumbling sort of man with wild hair that gives his advice with a slight slur on what to do with your alone time, or how to defend yourself with against rapists using the "play dead" tactic.

Another person who enriches Tim and Eric Awesome Show with his own deadpan absurdity is Zack Galifianakis. A video that epitomizes the chemistry these three guys have together would have to be the Absolut vodka advertisement they filmed together. Basically, Absolut gave them a check and said make us a commercial---it can be about anything but it must involve Absolut vodka. Simple enough. What they came out with was a melodrama about three girlfriends in robes, laughing, screaming, yelling--enjoying each other over cold Absolut.


Anyway, I had the chance to see these two in the Spring when they came to the Parish off of Sixth St. That's when I knew these guys were absolutely nuts. At one interlude, Tim and Eric walked on stage decked out in Papa John's uniforms (by the way, they have this unexplainable preoccupation with this franchise) and chunked 10 pizza boxes worth cheese pizza at the audience. The man I was standing next to got smacked in the face by one of the greasy things. A random piece somehow landed in the hand of my friend Liesel and without much hesitation, she started chowing it down to all of our disgust.
Later, during Uncle Muscles hour, in a fit of anxiety Casey puked all over himself and the fifteen people closest to the stage. And this was real regurgitated bread looking shit too, all over the arm of Liesel's black T-shirt. She didn't really bat an eyelash but by that time, the big guy next to her was getting tired of being assaulted by Tim and Eric.

Who knows, it may be because I got to preview a lot of their second season during their show (which was actually in large part just clips of their new stuff), but I'm not too keen on Tim and Eric these days. Undoubtedly, their first season is classic but I have not yet decided whether or not their unadulterated spastic creative energy can produce another full season of stuff that will not cross the line that separates bizarre and amusing into the dregs of pure drivel.

Either way, I'm still psyched to see what they will come up with at FunFunFun Fest (maybe some special guest appearances...?) and certain that their show will prove to be strange if nothing else.