With March (now April) madness in full mayhem, and all the jostling for playoff position in the NBA it’s easy to loose sight of other contentious cultural rivalries. Like the top beards of rock for instance.
The above is a nice video round up. I’m glad they DQed ZZ Top and it was nice to see local metal man James Hetfield squeak in at #4. My only gripe is that Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy didn’t make the cut – his woolly man moss is folk-rock legend.
Gd.
Photo credit: Mannie Garcia/ Shepard Fairey
A poster of President Barack Obama, right, by artist Shepard Fairey is shown for comparison with this April 27, 2006, file photo of Obama by Associated Press photographer Mannie Garcia. Fairey has acknowledged the poster is based on the AP photograph. AP
I’ve done it. And, so has my boy Tony.psd. Frankly, at one point or another, most designers and many artists have. Question is, is it criminal?
If you haven’t heard the mounting saga, Graphic Designer and Street Artist, Shepard Fairey (the man behind the now ubiquitous Obama “Hope” posters) has been charged with copyright infringement for the use of an image taken by an Associated Press photographer.
For me, the question is two-fold. When Fairey traced (yes, he traced it on his computer), then slightly rotated, simplified and re-colored the image is he bound to give the original photographer credit? Then if he uses this image for monetary gain (even if for a politician we really really like), is he obligated to share (or offer to share) the wealth?
Um.
NPR has run few great stories on the matter. Here, here and here.
Gd.
I loved this part of the game when Turiaf flew down from the scoreboard to bop on Memet Okur. It was even more impressive to see The Fight of The Turiaf in person. At the moment captured in this picture, Ronny is yelling, “Look out beelow leetle Jazz people. Zee Turiaf cannot control his landing.”
Yep, it was a good night to see The Dubs as they clobbered The Jazz, 116-96. Sitting six rows back from our bench, it was nice to see that the team seemed in good spirits, even our recently hobbled Biedrins. And sitting so close, I was able to confirm that, yes, I have a man-crush on Belinelli’s suits.
A few months back, a friend of mine lost her wallet at The Arena. She went back later that night and someone on the cleaning crew found it and turned it in. Do you think Ronnie Price will be so lucky when he goes back looking for his ankles? After Jamal Crawford crossed him over twice and then buried a three in his face, I could have sworn I saw his ankles come straight off. Maybe Rob Kurz picked them up as a souvenir? Speaking of which, if the Charlotte Hornets can trade Adam Morrison for Radmonovic, do you think we can trade Kurz for Millsap? Seeing Millsap up close, you can’t help but think that he’d look kind of nice in a Dubs Jersey, and with the way The Warriors were playing tonight, you also can’t help but think we’re one Millsap (or Millsap-like player) away from being a future playoff contender.
All-in-all, it was a good time out for the elder Meschery and his family. My dad seemed particularly impressed with Williams who was, really, the only thing impressive about The Jazz. My six-year old niece seemed particularly impressed with The Warrior Girls and proceeded to take about thirty five pictures of them with my iPhone. And I was impressed with the cohesiveness and consistent play of the team, and, oh yeah, Belinelli’s suit - dude looked like he was headed to the Grammy’s after the game (totally unimpressive btw - except for maybe Kanye’s Shag and MIA’s belly)
M. Meschery
I had to trade two Warriors tickets, a whole “Fury of the Deep Structure Deck,” and my ‘91 Subaru just to get this card, but it paid off. I knew there was no way that the more heavily-bearded Spurs would lose to The Warriors tonight. Good thing too because on Saturday I traded my Warrior’s Triumph Structure Deck for The Golden Yao, Sky Mountain God card.
M. Meschery
Tonight’s game plan: more tough defense (last night was marvelous) and then Jamal, you break some ankles. I know if Starbury can do it, so can you.
Wait, in fact, let’s have Tim Roye break down that patented crossover in slow motion (see below)? And, while Yao is about 5 feet taller than lil’ round Roye, I’m confident in your abilities to get it done.
Now, go out and break some ankles.
Gd.
If you’re not in the design or advertising industry chances are high the name Sol Sender means nothing to you. But, I guarantee you know his work.
The Chicago-based Sender was brought in by a motion design company with a relationship with one David Axelrod, to develop the identity for his new candidate, then Senator, Barack Obama.
When we received the assignment, we immediately read both of Senator Obama’s books. We were struck by the ideas of hope, change and a new perspective on red and blue (not red and blue states, but one country). There was also a strong sense, from the start, that his campaign represented something entirely new in American politics — “a new day,” so to speak.
In the video, Sender walks through the thinking behind the logo’s concept, its development and final design. The rest is history.
In the span of Obama’s campaign, the logo became one of the most recognizable in the world. Most certainly the greatest campaign identity in history of the United States and perhaps the most memorable political image since, well, those of Che Guevara or the Chairman, Mao Zedong.
O was adopted, cooped, digitized then printed, painted and posterized on to every manner of pin, mug, sticker, banner, bag, button and baby stroller.
O took on a life of it’s own. O could not be stopped. O rolled right up the the White House and into the Oval Office.
And, for his part, we thank Sol (and his collaborators).
It is interesting to see the portion of the video where he reviews some of the other finalists that did not make it in the end.
I believe you’ll agree. They chose wisely.
Gd.
See “Part 2″ after the jump.
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It’s unfortunate that this nugget of wisdom didn’t get to Turman tonight before going to the Orlando Game. I’m pretty sure he would have had a great time out if it had. For most of us, getting roofied and waking up naked in a dumpster would be a much better time out than watching Crawford and Jackson combine for 9 of 371 shooting, but trust me, there are ways to make this fun. Read on padawan:
I went to the Warriors v. Rockets game on Friday night. My girl’s dad was visiting from out of town, so I thought it would be fun to take him to a game, and y’know what? It wasn’t just fun. It was a great time out. Mission accomplished Robert Rowell. No, I wasn’t looking for anything as transcendent or as inspirational as “We Believe,” just a thumbs up, a nod and a “Great Time Out.” It’s clear that the team isn’t having any fun, nor is Don Nelson, and he’s already said as much, but that’s alright. These guys are getting paid millions of dollars. Who says that they’re supposed to have fun on top of it? I think if I was one of the Warriors right now, I’d probably rather be getting a half-time lecture on the art of the McHale Rebound by Kevin McHale himself than be in the Dubs’ locker room. But it’s not about the team. It’s about me and I had a great time on Friday night.
The key to my personal victory of actually enjoying a Warriors game was that I went with someone who doesn’t follow basketball, and certainly doesn’t care about the Warriors. Maybe that’s what Robert Rowell and Chris Cohan have been trying to tell us all along, and we just haven’t gotten the message - if you don’t care about this team, and if you come to a game, you will, most likely, have a great time out.
Now, let me tell you how you too can have a great time at your next Warriors game. First, if you don’t have your own future NASCAR Dad-in-law to bring to a game, just imagine you’re rolling with E.T. or an unfrozen caveman, or at the very least, someone who doesn’t know the difference between bad basketball and good basketball. That’s a start. Next, imagine that your tickets were free. I know that must be hard for the season ticket holders out there, but give it a shot. Just pretend like you spent that money to see guys on Wheelies chucking pizzas or on the privilege to buy one of those battery-powered, plastic Warriors cups that lights up on the bottom, but the tickets to the game were actually free. Next, stop caring about any of the players (this shouldn’t be too hard to do since your favorite players are now probably on The Suns or The Clippers anyway), and finally, drink two 32 0Z. Coronas and two shots of Patron, followed by a margarita in one of those cups that light up, and there you have it- a recipe for a Great F-ing Time Out! I’m not even going to tell you how much fun you’ll have watching the Warriors Girls and the pizza throwing dudes after you go through all of these steps.
M. Meschery
For many months now, we have been applying Robert Greene’s 48 Laws of Power to the fortunes (and misfortunes) of the Golden State Warriors. But these are different days. The departure of Baron Davis and the marginalization of Chris Mullin have created twin power vacuums that threaten the fabric and fortunes of the franchise. Plainly, the Warriors lack effective leadership. And, as desperate times call for desperate measures, now is the time to summons the wisdom of the “Dog Whisperer,” Cesar Millan, in the hopes of finding both off-court governance and on-court leadership for our hometown squad.
Before invoking the wisdom of the whisperer, I will note that the position of “pack leader” is still open and resumes are still being accepted. Though Jack was designated by management, tradition and coaches as custodian of the realm, the team’s rapid slide into sub-mediocrity render the position as open. On the hardwood at least, the body is clearly in need of a brain. And I’ll say it here that Jamal Crawford might be the one who can best use the Dog Whisperer’s “calm-assertive” energy to greatest effect.
Rather than defer, it is time to see what Mr. Crawford can do from a leadership position. But he has to reach out and seize the moment. Jamal, your time has come. Like Baron before you, you arrived under duress and in need of a career reboot. And like our avatar, you play the on-court role of script supervisor, aka point guard. And this is where I defer to the Dog Whisperer to outline your new responsibilities as pack leader. At least of the Golden State Warriors. First, support and encourage the following. In this order. Exercise. Discipline. And Affection. Running, remanding and rewarding. This is your path to becoming the pack leader. Run, manage, reward. Repeat until victory is declared.
But remember, as Cesar Millan reminds, this all begins with “calm-assertive” energy. As the new starting point guard, here is your job description in a nutshell. If this sounds creepy, change “dogs” to “teammates” while reading.
- Dogs have an engrained pack mentality. If you’re not asserting leadership over your dog, your dog will try to compensate by showing dominant or unstable behavior.
- Dogs never “think they are humans,” as many pet owners would like to imagine. They are exceptionally happy just being dogs. If your are telling people your dog thinks he’s a person, chances are he’s a dog who knows he’s your leader.
- A dog’s natural “goal” is to be connected, to live harmoniously, grounded, and balanced, in tune with Mother Nature.
- Dogs live in the moment. They don’t reminisce about the past or worry about the future; therefore, they can move on from unstable behavior very quickly–if we let them.
It goes without saying that this message also goes out to the corner office as well. There hasn’t been much about the last few months that has felt either calm or assertive from a consumer standpoint, and most of this has to do with the choices of the “decider,” Robert Rowell. If he is uncomfortable delegating the responsibilities of pack leader to the calm, assertive Chris Mullin, then he should at least check in on the philosophy of alpha governance. And he should try to do so before the pack–both within the organization and among the famously loyal fan base–decide that they want to choose their own road.
Turman
I’m wishing that I had made this part of the iPhone sideline primer at the Y today. But since I didn’t know about these Basketball 101 segments yet, the FTB crew weren’t as efficient in the paint as old guys generally want to be. I’m thinking that from here on out, I’ll post these as fast as Barnett puts ‘em up. I need ‘em and it seems that the Dubs might want to watch too. I’m loving how Jack’s feet are all in the wrong place on the clip they show at the end. And then instead of one strong dribble, he takes like five of those theft-tempting, neck-high dribbles to the tin.
Joking aside though, there are some great nuggets in here for anyone trying to tear it up in their over-40 league. Some things you should already know, some things you will be happy to learn. I’ve also posted the previous edition after the jump.
Turman
Last night at DT’s whilst feasting on left-over Turkey and drinking some high potency margaritas, we decided to take advantage of League Pass and do a little tour around the NBA. Mind you, we did this after watching The Warriors self-immolate in the third quarter against the Cavs (and after a few more margaritas). Our perception could have been a bit sideways, but nonetheless, I came to the quick conclusion mid-way through the tour that our Golden State Warriors, by comparison to the rest of The League, looked bad. I mean, really bad. Even The Thunder appeared to be playing higher quality basketball. For those of us who’ve been watching, this road trip has been utterly Dunleavian, or Foylish, or any other adjective we can use to describe futility in an NBA Jersey.
Which brings me to The NY Knicks. There are a handful of teams in the NBA that are more feckless than the Knicks, like The Clippers, The Wizards, the above mentioned Thunder, and if we’re going on current record, The Warriors and a few other teams, but none of these teams do fecklessness as well and on such a big stage. The Knicks are the NBA’s equivalent of Lindsay Lohan, a total trainwreck. I mean, whose week is not complete without learning some new lurid detail about Lohan whether you meant to or not? And so it is with the Knicks. I don’t follow the Knicks, but I couldn’t help but hear about Marbury’s suspension and his teammates’ distaste for his self-imposed strike. It made me think, why couldn’t Harrington’s sulking catch national headlines? We are usually very competitive in the drama category. This summer was a high-point with Baron’s exit and Monta’s Anklegate, the likes we haven’t seen around these parts since Sprewell failed to mustard up his passes (Doesn’t Cohan secretly yearn for those glory days?). But in the spirit of “any press is good press,” I’m not about to let the Knicks steal our shine, feel me? That’s why I think we need to come back from this road trip tonight, not with a win, but with a Marbury. We wisely chose to pass-up the opportunity to go after Artest, because, let’s face it, he most likely would have made The Warriors better and we don’t want that. We want all the drama with none of the success, and there’s one quick solution for that. Yes, all roads lead to Marbury-town.
After learning that Rowell put the kabosh on the very reasonable deal to keep Baron here, I’ve been trying very hard not to give The Warriors franchise any of my money. With Marbury on our team, it will become much more difficult for me to stay away from The Oracle. I will most likely want to slow down on the 880 and stare at the mess with all the other rubberneckers passing by, and if I can’t catch it live, I can hopefully cop the latest while standing in line at Safeway. It was just a season and a half ago that The Warriors were national media darlings, but as Lindsay Lohan, Brittany Spears, Paris Hilton and their like have proven, you don’t have to be good, talented or successful to maintain media darling status. Sure, you might not have respect or integrity, but those intangibles aren’t worth much these days on the open market. So, let’s raise our tequila-filled glasses tonight, and hope that we come back from this road trip with one less win, but one more Knickerbocker.
M. Meschery