Last week, tommitron came by to review the local “newspaper” that The IP always leaves on top of the file cabinet just outside his cubicle.  After reading a few headlines, he started muttering “MFRs!  MFRs! What a bunch of MFRs!”  At first The IP thought he might be referring to some government document we deal with, like a “Mandatory Federal Review” or a “Monthly Financial Report.”  Turns out he was talking about Republicans.  You pithecanthropes can probably guess what the “MF” in “MFRs” stands for.  The IP is gonna borrow “MFR” for this one post.  Thanks, tommitron.

A perfect example of an MFR is the classic “Good ole’ Southern White Boy” who is running on his first name, which just happens to be “Saxby?”  WTF?  What the hell kind of name is “Saxby?”  All one sees around here are these “SAXBY” yard signs.  There’s even another runoff election the same day for another Georgia MFR named “Bubba.”  And she’s a woman!  WTF!

Georgia has a runoff election next Tuesday between MFR Saxby Chambliss and Democrat Jim Martin. And now that it’s time to call out his troops, Saxby has to focus his campaign on those REALLY important issues:  Illegal immigrants, gays, and taxes.  His latest radio and TV ads are perfect for all those red-hearted MFRs here in Georgia, the ones that gave McCain/Palin a five-point victory last November 4.  You can get the gist of Saxby’s fear-mongering campaign here. 

The TV ad he ran on Thanksgiving Day here in the ATL market had him and his wholesome family really wishing God would bless us blah blah blah…blessing this and that blah blah blah prayers…blah blah.  Then he put his big meaty hand around his grandaughter who was sitting on his lap and copped a feel of her breast (The IP actually saw this; it was weird in a “creepy MFR “Big Daddy” kinda way).

Saxby actually reminds The IP of a much less-experienced MFR that’s been on the scene lately, namely Sarah Palin.  They both have a very direct (unsophisticated?) and intentionally simple-minded oratorical style.  The IP even grants that style a legitimate place in our political discourse.  It would not be a big surprise if Palin even flew all the way down to Georgia to stump for Saxby’s runoff bid. 

This Senatorial runoff here in Georgia is sort of a “Last Stand” moment for the MFRs, not only in terms of the potentially filibuster-free Democratic Congress, but for holding on to the South as well.  There was early talk of Obama potentially taking Georgia for a few days, but our state’s MFRs set things straight.  Fortunately for The IP, his 2.25-hour wait to early-vote for Obama was made more important because he also made sure to vote for Martin.  This runoff is based on a small amount of votes; which poses some big problems for Martin, such as getting an Obama-like share of the black vote:

Though voter turnout on Nov. 4 was high, many voted only for president and skipped the other races. In Fulton and DeKalb, heavily black counties in metropolitan Atlanta, Mr. Chambliss received slightly more votes than Mr. McCain, but Mr. Martin received 44,000 fewer votes than Mr. Obama, reinforcing some Democrats’ concern that Mr. Martin has failed to connect with black voters.

Blacks are what Saxby calls “the other folks.”  But to the chagrin of many Democrats (and gays), Saxby’s “old fashioned” rhetoric rings true for many of them too, at least for that most important of all issues, gay marriage.  And with a slight lead going in, Saxby is licking his chops.

Like Watching Paint Dry

The day after Thanksgiving was really slow at the office.  The IP noticed they were painting the roof of the local McDonalds, so he pulled a tommitron and took some pics.  What that guy is painting is actually a roof “covering” that stands about 6 feet above the actual roof.  Why?

Well, the story has it that when they built the Atlanta Federal Center, that particular McDonalds, which was so strategically located near the MARTA station, refused to vacate, so they made a deal whereby they could stay if they made sure the Federal employees did not have to look at the HVAC equipment on the roof; hence the stupid covering that gets just as ugly as equipment when panels fall off and it rusts and fades etc.  Then they paint it right before it begins to rain.

Blog at ya later.

It’s been a while since The IP blogged at ya. He’s been down with a cold, so he’s been sleepin’ and eatin’ soup.  He’s not eating soup in his sleep.  He eats the soup first and THEN sleeps.  It’s a “classic” cold, not one of those smash-you-in-the-head colds with a high fever and dry unproductive cough, so it ain’t all that bad.  He has a little “take two sick days” kinda guilt; but why spread his cold to others?

Speaking of colds, it’s become fairly cold down here in Georgia.  Not too cold, but cold enough to make it feel like Winter. That’s why The IP dug up some tropical music to warm himself up. He found this un-listened-to LP buried in his collection:?

All you pithecanthropes have probably heard the sweetly haunting sounds of a steel drum band.  About 8 years ago, The IP was lucky to spend some time on the island of St. John (U.S.V.I.) in a small apartment adjacent to a steel drum school.  Each early evening when he came back to his apartment, he could hear the piquant melodies created by two-dozen or so “steelpan” drummers as they wafted through the tropical air.  The IP would say to himself:  “I am truly lucky to experience this,” and each evening he would take his seat on the patio overlooking the crashing waves of the Caribbean, rum & coke in hand, and listen to the steel drum school as the orange sun sank slowly into the sea.

So forgive The IP for having a slight bias in regards to steel drum bands.         

Although associated with all things “Caribbean,” the steelpan drum is firmly rooted in Trinidad/Tobago.  Geologically speaking, the latter is more a part of Venezuela than it is the Lesser Antilles.  But T&T are islands, and they are good examples of what makes archipelagic geographies so interesting.; it’s all about  island hopping.  The steelpan drum music from Trinidad eventually made its way throughout all of the Antilles. 

To quote from the pithy and surprisingly well-written liner notes of the featured album:

The steel band is the latest – and perhaps the most resourceful – musical development by a people whose dedication to a rhythmic self-expression has withstood the most severe trials and tests of time.

Ever since the 16th Century, the use of ritual drums in the West Indies has often been suppressed and restricted by the British and other European ruling powers.  Voudoun (voodoo) drums, brought from the jungles of Africa, were regarded with distasteful suspicion by the authorities who saw them as a binding, anti-foreign force, an elemental inciter to physical violence, and enemy of law and order.  In the Trinidad of the 18th Century, a time of slavery, drums were particularly suppressed when it was believed that they were being used to accompany singers who passed messages through their songs.  (These extemporaneous songs were also the forerunner of calypso and its impromptu rhymes.)  In an effort to shame the natives into discarding the drum, the practice was labeled as backward and primitive, stemming from savage African tribal lore.

Later in the liner notes it is stated:

It was in the late 1930s that an ingenious Trinidadian discovered that by striking the top of an empty oil drum in different places he produced different musical pitches.  World War II, the presence of an American military base on Trinidad and lend-lease provided the island with a rich abundance of oil barrels.  Today, it takes the ear of a true musician and the hand of a master craftsman to transform these robust metal containers into instruments of magically muted, bell-like tones.  Trinidad is still the place where the best and most authentic of these instruments are made.

And to make steel band history more interesting, there is this:

There is also an important social aspect.  The early days of the steel band coincided with a wartime crime wave and were marked with widespread violence, the steel bands forming the rallying point for gangs which feuded with each other physically as well as musically.  Suppression loomed as a possibility.  In September 1949 police in Port-of-Spain moved in on warring bandsmen and arrested 250 of them.  At the initiation of a committee appointed by the Governor, band leaders held a peace conference, and a steel band community center was formed along with a steel band association.

Since the early days of steel drum bands noted above, however, the genre was quickly adapted to the tourist and anglo-voyeur  market, and while “authentic” in terms of the instrument and its sound, the repertoire of steel bands seems directed toward the Western pop songbook.

A good example of the intrinsic flexibility of the steel band is found in the following music clip and video   The music clip is actually a Classical composition., while the video shows an almost-scary, mid-1970s German concert of The Original Trinidad Steel Band playing a classic American rock tune; and then a Lamont Sanford look-alike comes out with his awesome one-piece outfit and mad Pandeiro skillz.  After a while, you want to slowly walk away because it becomes increasingly pathetic and embarrassing; at least it did for The The IP.Listen to an OTSB song here; special prize to the pithecanthrope who can name that tune!

Here is the weird, disco-inspired German concert clip.

The woman introducing the band is part of Boney M.  For true weirdness and WTF?, check out their Wiki entry here.

Whew!!

Read More Here

 

And check this out.  Look what is at the bottom of the washingtonpost.com page:

 

 

 

 

This is groundbreaking.  Let’s send out mad props to The Onion for being relevent enough to be a sponsor on The Post and to The Post for not being afraid to accept the take of The Onion.

That’s not just the name of one of the best psychedelic rock songs ever recorded (more about that later), it aptly describes the post-Election behaviour of a scary wing of the Republitard base.  These must be the folks that yelled “Drill Baby, Drill!!” and “Kill Him!!” At the McStain and Palin rallies.  The IP detected this viral strain of antipathy when listening to those AM “talk” radio blowhards, Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh, last week at work.  The IP has always taken a “Know your enemies” approach when it comes to the production of asstard-driven mythology.  The IP had never heard these jerks sound as psychotic as they did last week. 

The IP was not even going to waste any effort blogging about it, but he got a voicemail from his fellow Atlantan, Mike Osiris, about how someone had stolen the latter’s Obama/Biden yard sign and REPLACED IT with a McCain/Palin sign.  WTF!!  To be honest, he would’ve been better off if some teenagers had left pizza boxes full of shit on his front stoop.  Replacing one sign with another sounds like adult psychosis.  And that would kinda scare The IP; to think that one of his neighbors really resents him voting for Obama that much that he would sneak out and steal and change the yard sign.  Creepy and psychotic for sure.

Beck, Limbaugh, Hannity, are in it for the money, but their shows are like the equivalent of yelling “FIRE!” in a crowded theater; their theater of hate and invective.  Is it any wonder some people become psychotic?  Their listeners think these cranks are “really smart” and “well-informed.”   WTF?  They are like the “Pro” wrestling of AM Radio.

The above-noted psychotic reactions are about hate.  The psychotic reaction to which the vintage Cali rock band the Count Five refers is unrequited love.  In either case, the results lead to some weird, shall we say, psychotic, behaviour.

And speaking of weird behaviour, how about the below-linked video of the Count Five’s smash hit Psychotic Reation?  Whoa boy, this is one of those amazingly low-budget, homemade films of the band when they were fresh out of the California garage band womb.  What’s with the suits?  It’s enough to make your cymbal stand get knocked over!  Why can’t girls dress and dance like that today?  If they do, where are they?  Maybe Marlone knows the name of those dances (Frug? Hully Gully?  WTF?).

WATCH VIDEO

Holy crap!!  This country is hemorrhaging jobs!  It won’t be long before most Americans are only a few acquaintances away from someone who lost their job; it might even be themselves.  And not just some cashier job, or Home Despot job, but a good, firmly middle-class American job:

Listen to the CEO from SUN MICROSYSTEMS:   

“Today, we have taken decisive actions to align Sun’s business with global economic realities and accelerate our delivery of key open source platform innovations — from MySQL(TM) to Sun’s latest Open Storage offerings,”

Thanks a lot, asshole.  It’s not like The IP doesn’t understand that running a company can be hard, and that sometimes you have to layoff employees, but the guy can’t even give a nod to the employees whose jobs are toast.  In fact, his whole tone seems like it’s a great thing.  It’s a “revamping.”  It’s all about “global economic realities,” not the realities of 6000 people being unemployed. 

Boy, that invisible hand likes to smack some folks around these days.

Incredulity  is not always a negative thing.  And not all “WTF?” moments are based on witnessing or reading something stupid.  Indeed, sometimes you can have a “WTF?’ experience that can satisfy.  Such was the case this past weekend when The IP caught some of the vibe at the Chomp & Stomp in Cabbagetown here in Atlanta.

These are the Pea Ridge Ramblers; the guy on the right is a National Champion step dancer.

Cabbagetown was once (and in one sense still is) the locus for a giant cotton bag mill and its community of white, mostly-Appalachian workers for the same.  By the time the mill closed in the 1970s, Cabbagetown was a bit of an anomaly in predominantly black Atlanta.  Chickens were said to freely roam the neighborhood and its residents were derided for being “crackers” and “White Trash.” 

Most of the houses and some of the the mill buildings remain, but the area is experiencing the first wave of gentrification.  Much of the mill has been converted into lofts and the original crackers are either dead, dispersing, or being replaced by tattooed and body-pierced neo-hippies or pro-creating yuppies; the “New & Improved White Trash” as it were.  Hey, don’t be insulted.  The IP is just as trashy!

Chomp & Stomp started pretty small in 2004, but it’s had enough buzz the last few years to have produced quite the turnout this year; the perfect weather didn’t hurt either.  The featured music is bluegrass, in homage to the original Appalachian flavor of the place.  But instead of moonshine and fried squirrel, its microbrew and chili. The IP missed tasting the latter, but he had a couple of Sweetwater brews.  Actually, Sweetwater is big enough now to no longer be “micro,” but it sure beats watery Bud or PBR.  They have a really fun Web site. 

The IP kept thinking how Cabbagetown is like a little slice of Portland, OR.  Lots of young 20-somethings on vintage bikes, 30-something parents with strollers, and just a lot of smiling young folk in general (almost all white).  Some things never change, geographically speaking.

The Fulton Cotton Mill Lofts, the condominium development that now occupies most of the old mill, has had a crazy history of disaster.  In 1999, a big fire destroyed most of a 5-story portion of the mill, resulting in global attention because of a dramatic helicopter rescue of a crane operator.  The IP remembers seeing the fire from a MARTA train on his way home from work.  It goes right by the mill.  Crazy shit.

And then, this past March, a tornado whacked the mill, the adjacent Oakland Cemetery, and part of Cabbagetown:

The The Pea Ridge Ramblers (above) contract my friend, Mike Osiris, to produce their CDs.  That step dancer was like the drummer for the band as he used his feet to stomp out a rhythm.  That’s probably where the “stomp” in Chomp & Stomp comes from.  Good stuff.

The IP always wants to have his fingers on the pulse of popular culture, so, in order to gauge how the “Real America” was handling the Obama win, the obvious choice was to listen to a big dose of Rush Limbaugh.

The basic RL take is that McStain/Palin lost the election because McStain abandoned the base that Palin had so bravely energized.  McCain and his cabal also abandoned Palin, leaving her to twist in the foul wind of the liberal mainstream media (LMSM).  One caller noted the “500-or-so Bolsheviks” he saw on his TV at Grant Park and said it was the beginning of Obama’s “socialist” remaking of America.   That Obama did in fact note how we need to “remake” America really got Rush all mad.

Probably the worst thing about the RL Show is how it’s not really a “talk” show at all, but a big soap box for Rush.  There is never any real “discussion” because all the calls are screened to make sure each caller is a verified sycophant.  It’s really quite boring.  And the commercials seem made for the most ignorant cohort in our population. And think about it. What kind of person has the patience or time or inclanation to listen to Rush Limbaugh on a working weekday?  Daytime radio AND TV are cultural trainwrecks that shamelessly cater to the stupid, desperate, lonely, unemployed, of America.  OK. Some employed delivery guys and taxi drivers listen too.  Maybe even some “Joe The Plumber” guys and gals as well.

The “Real America” is still out there and they are pissed.  Homophobia seems entrenched and gun sales are going through the roof.  Good signs, huh?  WTF?  People were chanting 2012!  2012! as Palin got off her plane in Alaska.  And Rush officially dubbed our economic downturn as “The Obama Recession.” 

Isn’t the stock market just a big racket anyway?  Making money off of money?  “Speculation.”  WTF?  Whatever happened to making products and/or offering services that people really need?

Like a whiny little baby who has his rattle snatched away, America will not be ready to adjust their profligate lifestyle as China suggests.  You reap what you sow.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Beer Review: Rogue Chocolate Stout

This stout truly deserves attention.  And the funny thing is The IP initially approached this brew as a complete skeptic; perhaps it was too many visits to Harbucks, where overly sweet coffee and chocolate drinks go out the door at a rapid pace.  The IP was worried that the brew might be too sweet, too Harbucky. 

OMG and WTF!!  Just in time for the Obama Inauguration is this awesome chocolate brew. 

Like the President Elect, this brew is a golden-brown creation of complexity, composure, and, strangely, cocky assurance.  And it tastes better as it goes along…really.  This is one of those two-hour, drink slowly brews where as it becomes warmer it releases new and different flavors and aftertastes.  Chocolate?  Yes. But not a sticky sweet chocolate.  It is chocolate in the most sublime, slightly bitter, and ultimately tasteful form.  And the brew really holds its carbonation and stoutness throughout… It’s truly remarkable! Like our new president! 

So.  In honor of our new, Awesome, chocolate-colored president, The IP recommends the Rogue Chocolate Stout as THE brew to have and serve on Inauguration Day!

Celebrate Chocolateness!!*

*Now, the above could be misconstrued as “racist” and “infamatory” blah blah blah ..but what it really is, is,  an honest comparison between Obama and a delicious chocolate stout   There really ARE parallels between the man and the brew, so don’t be offended.

Have you ever considered how noble and historic is the Common Armadillo:

Visually, it’s one of the more dinosaur-like creatures around.  It bridges that reptilian-mammalian gap perfectly. 

Why is The IP talking about Armadillos?

BECAUSE HE’S TRYING TO DISTRACT HIMSELF FROM THE DAMN ELECTION STRESS AND ANXIETY!!!!!

Check out how they do the pill-bug routine:

How’s that for a WTF?

Down South-America Way they call the armadillo a Tatu.  They even eat it and use its armor for the body of a small guitar called a Charango:

That’s all, for now.  Hope you were distracted just a little bit.  Have a great day!

..and flew directly over The IP’s abode.  About 8 in total.  Scary how they rattled the windows.  It was a weird feeling for The IP because he could see and hear them coming from far away.  He was impressed, then depressed.  And as he said, It was weird and scary too.