Mark November 9th on your calendar now. That’s when TV On the Radio comes to San Francisco to play The Warfield, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate the election of Barack Obama than rocking out with a guy named Tunde Adebimpe. The greatest art-rock band since the Talking Heads (that’s right Radiohead, you’re on notice) has outdone themselves on their latest album, “Dear Science.” And guess what? You don’t have to be some art school, multi-culti, bearded Brooklynite to get into it (yes, the band does fit that description). This album has way more pop-appeal. In fact, it’s got some bonafied hits. but don’t be deceived by the good vibes and high energy jams. The devil is in the details - or should I say the lyrics. The lyrics are just straight-up dismal, but poetically dismal. On the first single, “Dancing Choose,” Adebimpe predicts the current economic meltdown with Dylan-esque flair:
now i’m no mad man,
but that’s insanity
feast before famine,
and more before family
goes and shows up with
more bowls and more
cups and the riot for the
last hot meal erupts
I really didn’t want to write a gushing review of TV On the Radio. I really wanted to clown their Williamsburg sweaters, their white guy afro-pop horn section, their lo-fi “Academy of Art Final Project” music videos, their precious, cutesy nerdiness (on their Myspace profile, they say they’re from “Computerville!”) but no - impossible to hate - kind of like a Kobe Bryant jump shot. Yes, I wanted this to be a Hater Tuesday post, but TV On The Radio has forced me to choose any other day, and I can’t wait for Fine Art Friday, so here’s one more for your Monday morning lineup. Enjoy.
You never know who you’re going to run into at the airport. I’m at JFK now and the dude in front of me in line turned out to be Seton Hall’s newest transfer and 2007 top-35 prep recruit, Herb Pope. After dumping 20 on Nevada in the WAC title game while playing for New Mexico, his stock soared high enough that he considered entering the draft. But after deciding against it, his coach (onetime commentator and player, Reggie Theus) bolted for another gig. So, Pope transferred to Seton Hall and may play this year depending on how the NCAA receives his hardship case.
His is a fascinating story of survival and perserverance. Get caught up for yourself here. He also blogs and posts pictures once in a while over at Street Ball Dot Com. Hopefully, he’ll hit us up with some comments from the other coast every so often and/or share a pic or two when somebody gets smashed on (see above).
Since I got a plane to catch, I’m gonna cut this short. Good luck Herb, this year and beyond. The pleasure was mine.
In the article above, note Warriors’ COO, Robert Rowell’s statement that the club is looking for an “exit strategy” for Thunder, but they just don’t know what it is yet. Uh, how about trying the same one you used for Baron Davis. I think Rowell knows more than a thing or two about crafting exit strategies. I’m sure he can work something out.
Tonight’s Veep debate probably drew a SuperBowl sized viewership. The media was reporting a supreme potential for flubs, faux pas, and eye-shielding moments to make you cringe. If you believed the hype, some sort of disaster seemed forgone. Sadly, it was relatively disaster free. Unless of course you consider ignoring the moderator’s questions a disaster.
This brings us to tomorrow. Tomorrow I’m driving across the border into Nevada. To the “Biggest Little City in the World”, where I will work for the next President of our United States. Door to door style. While I’ve voted in every presidential election since 1988, and even dropped a little skrilla for candidates now and then, this time it’s different. I’m totally compelled to hit the streets and do something where it can really count. Nevada.
For me, it should prove to be opportunity to get to know our neighbors just a touch to the East. While close in proximity (even closer then Alaska and Russia), there is so much I don’t know. For example, how will they vote in the Presidential election? And, what’s up with the grubby bearded miner dummy in Old Nevada?
I’ll report back.
Gd.
On a pretty tangential PS:
Late last night searchers finally found the wreckage of Steve Fossett’s plane in the rugged terrain of the Sierra Nevada just over the Nevada boarder, in the Mammoth Lakes area of California. In his ill-fated flight, Fossett took off in a single-engine airplane from a private airstrip near Reno. It was morning, and large thunderheads loomed over the peaks. Now, I set out from my private drive in a forest green Volvo V70, headed to Reno. It will be morning, and it there’s a 50% chance of precipitation. Please wish me luck.
Just in time to keep you from ramming your forehead through the television screen during tonight’s vice-presidential debate comes this handy little game. It’s Palin Bingo! This way, you can focus on the pot-o-cash you’re about to collect instead of the bizarre malaprops and freewheeling departures from McCain’s policy and/or common sense. Because, whoo boy! This is going to be fun city! When she mangles Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s name on the way to advocating the hypothetical invasion of Iran because she’s sure that’s where Osama Bin Laden might really be hiding–booyah!–you get to cover a square. Instead of screaming into a couch cushion and scaring your kids.
Get the full set of cards at palinbingo.com and join in the fun.
In the years after releasing what was probably one of the best albums of 2006, “Murray’s Revenge,” Los Angeles rapper Murs bearded-up, dreaded-up and major labeled-up. He is also running for President, and what do people running for president do in America? They move toward the middle while still trying to appeal to their base which is good for getting votes, but not so good for rocking them.
The best thing about Murs, and one thing he has in common with much of the West Coast Underground, is the way he made it seem too easy. Basically, the way he spits his verse in the studio is the way he spits his verse at the bus stop with headphones on, or slurpin’ cereal sittin’ on the couch playing video games. Murs was effortless. President Elect Murs is effortfull.
I wanted to like this album, truly. I mean, my man’s got the beard, some big ol’ Steel Pulse weasel dreads. This should have been the September Slapper, but no deezy. There are a few good cuts like the above “Can It Be.” Anything with a young Jacko sample in it and I’m with it, but I think I only really like this joint because it sounds so 9th Wonder-ish. Really, Murs should have stuck with Wonder instead of going with Warner, but that would be like running for Board of Supervisors instead of running for President, and who wants to be Chris Daly when you think you can be Barack Obama? I’m confusing myself now with the tired political metaphors. You get the idea - I’m not impressed.
It’s not often you see House Representative Barbara Lee reaching across the aisle to grab her some hot Republican palm in solidarity, but this week is different. And it’s different for a most unique set of circumstances. Namely, it’s about to be Dust Bowl II up in this ish. With elected representatives scared off of their asses by the prospect of explaining a $700 billion bailout to their little foreclosurevilles back home during voting season, the most monumental financial bailout in United States history was put on indefinite hold. Repubs are blaming Pelosi, while Dems are saying, “WTF, this came from your main man GW?” And all of us are sitting here wondering if anyone will ever loan us another dime. Or moreover, is that even a good idea.
By pure coincidence I happen to be in the NYC. The epicenter of Ground Zero II. Which, if you really think about it does bear some strong degree of connection to the wartime spending spree that commenced as the dust settled from the original Ground Zero. But all of that is for another blog somewhere with more time. What chaps me is the fact that we have been given far too much to hate about the current financial crisis and not nearly enough to love. So, it being Tuesday, I’m going to bring in a guest. Today’s hater of the day is a noted mechanical engineer of the green variety who goes by the name of David Youmans. While he’s not developing solar cells of the domestic variety, he’s doing things like clean-water projects in Tanzania. Or maybe building more efficient stoves for Darfur refugees so they don’t have to stray across enemy lines for firewood quite so often. What’s his take?
Simple. We earned this. Debt by petty debt. And we deserve to fail. Completely. Now, that’s a Hater Tuesday concept. Hate ‘em all. Here’s the first paragraph of his diatribe for free. Make the jump if you feel the multilateral hate bubbling over.
Turman
From special correspondent David Youmans: Here are my mostly unfounded thoughts on US economic collapse, backed up by very little statistical data and my limited knowledge of the world affairs and history.
Rearranging the Deck Chairs on the Titanic: Our system is too broken to fix itself. Watching our leadership scramble to fix this problem is like watching a scary movie where the killer has gotten into the house of the teenage girl who is home alone. The whole audience knows she should run outside to safety, but what does she do? She runs upstairs clutching the first weapon she can find, a candle holder, which she will limply lob at the attacking madman who will let it bounce lightly off his shoulder before he cuts her to pieces. Our government has no idea what’s really going on and there is so much partisanship and politics involved that no decisions are being made based on economic logic. We need to hit the reset button, and the only way to do that is to have everything collapse and the American people kick everyone out of the present discussion and start over. Read More »
We already know who would play Sarah “I’ll get back to you on that” Palin in the TV movie based on her life, Thanks, but No Thanks: The Sarah Palin Story, a Lifetime Original Movie. But who would play her sidekick, er, Presidential running mate, John McCain?
FTB’s vote (metaphorically speaking) goes to Don Rickles, a.k.a. “The Merchant of Venom.” Not only does old Bullet Head resemble McCain, but his mean-spirited style perfectly meshes with McNasty’s own dirty politicking. The only catch: Rickles is actually ten years older than McNasty… we didn’t even think that was possible.
***Bonus Fun Fact (thanks, Wikipedia!): One of Rickles’s best-known roles was in the film Kelley’s Heroes, in which he played a character named Sgt. Crapgame. We think that would make a great new nickname for McNasty, too!
Well okay, we don’t have it just yet. But some time in 2013, it’s currently projected, the Bay Area will have a new iconic bridge span. It might not be the next world wonder, but actually, watching the video that accompanied this SF Gate article, it looks pretty cool. But, is it worthy of a team identity?
Obviously, iconic bridges have some precedent in this regard. The well-known “City” jersey, which highlights the twin-cabled span of the Golden Gate Bridge, is the all-time best selling uniform for the Warriors. And, there have been many riffs of the original, including the infamous “Tha’ Town” renditions, which feature the less glamorous, yet very Oaklandish, Port cranes.
It strikes me that the new Bay Bridge span could be just the right compromise, if they can make it work graphically. The bridge connects the East Bay (the Warriors current home) to San Francisco (the Warriors first Bay Area home) and carries approximately a 100 million vehicles a year between them. Ah, Mr. Cohan, that’s a lot of potential consumers. Our debate has always been focused about how to make the identity be inclusive and iconic. Frankly, now, we have neither.
The Golden State Warriors basketball team, often maligned for not identifying its hometown of Oakland in its name, is considering a new uniform design that would incorporate a sketch of the span, much like the classic “The City” uniforms with an image of the Golden Gate Bridge that the team sported as the San Francisco Warriors.
So, I say let’s do it. Sh*t, by the time the Warriors ownership, marketing staff and those NBA turkeys can agree it should be just about 2013. Now, again, I throw FTB’s hat into the ring. Warriors marketing staff, we’re ready for this noble design challenge.
Let me begin by saying that I will only go to The Berkeley Bowl if I am the last survivor of a bacterial pandemic apocalypse and all my other shopping options have been overrun by flesh-eating zombies. This is by choice. However, for my friend Raphael Breines, he’s been eighty-sixed from The Bowl for life, so if he does want a Zululand Queen Pineapple in the future, he’s going to have to wait for The End Times to get it. More about Raphael in a minute.
The above quote was a suggested bumper sticker slogan from a Berkeley resident interviewed in a recent LA Times article about The Berkeley Bowl (yes, shocking that the LA Times would highlight one of the most annoying aspects of our precious Northern California culture). The article was more specifically about The Berkeley Bowl’s new policy to hand out lifetime bans to people who are caught “tasting” food before buying it - especially the produce. Which is an interesting shopping predicament, given that nearly 50% of the produce is of the “?” variety. Don’t know what a Chocolate Persimmon tastes like? Too bad, and if you nibble, you will be dealt with.
And that’s pretty much what happened to my friend (well, more a friend-of-a-friend, just so you don’t think I fraternize with criminals). Yes, The Berkeley Bowl has made my bearded friend, Raphael Breines, the Winona Ryder of pears. But I got to give it up to my man here for putting himself on Front Street to expose the absurdity of this whole thing. He’s quoted in most of these stories, including going on-camera for this CBS 5 interview. Raphie’s an upstanding, family-type guy. He designs public parks for Chrissakes, and The Bowl is going to make an example of him - a produce pariah?
Such is the dilemma of living in Berkeley in the 21st Century. It’s filled with self-righteous yoga mat huggers, and baby boomer ex-hippies who act, in their own way, just as entitled as retirees at a Palms Springs country club. So, I feel for the employees and managers of Berkeley Bowl who got to put up with these a@#holes, but then to respond with some Procrustean Law (Raphie wrote a letter of apology to be reinstated, but was declined) is so, well, so un-Berkeley. And if you watch the CBS5 Video, you’ll find out about a dude who got banned for putting too much milk and sugar in his coffee. Really? How much f-ing milk and sugar could he possibly be putting in his cup of coffee for it to be considered theft? Seriously people. That’s weak sauce - extra weak sauce. You can find it on Aisle 3 next to the Haterade and don’t even think about trying it before buying it. I await the comments of my Berkeley-residing colleagues.
