I like lists, and for some reason I always have. But I'm not an indiscriminate consumer of lists-- they need to display at least a modicum of intelligence and wit, and, if they are going to provide the meat of a book, they must offer something more than basic ordered items. Inventory, compiled by folks associated with The Onion satiric website is a good book of lists, with an focus on pop culture from mostly the past thirty years or so. The topics are generally obscure enough to make it difficult to argue with their rankings-- that is, as far as I can tell they usually exhaust the possibilities (and since there is no standard length for each list, no arbitrary cut-off that leaves something relevant off). I also get the sense that the orders really don't reflect rank, so there's little incentive to take issue with what deserves to be no. 1 on any given page. The entertainment value instead is linked to how cleverly the choices are described or explained, and the batting average is pretty high for the book as a whole (I skipped over maybe five lists from disinterest). This is the kind of book you can read while watching a baseball game or during commercials, and it promises to delight again in five or ten years when I notice it on the shelf and can not recall its details. At that point it will probably also have some nostalgia value as it reminds me of songs or movies that I haven't thought about in the interim (as happens with other books of lists I've invested in over the years). So overall, a decent entertaining time-killer, if not quite as funny as The Onion and its other off-shoots.
"Baseball is almost the only orderly thing in a
The Flying Burrito Brothers
Rock'n'Roll Trio
"Why are governments instituted at all?
One year ago today I had one of the more memorable days of my whole life, wandering around the Eternal City of Rome. It was the last day of a week long trip to Italy, and there were no planned group activities until dinner that night. So I set out to check out all the sights I'd missed on a couple of previous visits. After being dropped off near the Colosseum, I headed over to look at the Pantheon, passing the Victor Emmanuel Memorial above.
his is one of the narrow side streets I followed heading over to the Pantheon.
And here is the Pantheon itself,, an ancient Roman temple eventually converted to a Catholic church.
Next up was the Trevi Fountain, which was pretty congested (the piazza, not the fountain itself) with fellow tourists.
Here's a shot of the famous Spanish Steps, where I hung out for awhile watching some artists at work.
Later, I caught part of a concert in the Piazza de Popolo.
After a visit to the National Gallery of Modern Art, I wandered around the park surrounding the Villa de Borghese. Here's a look at a carousel in the park.
Here's a boating pond. There were a lot of people enjoying the incredibly nice day; maybe the Mediterranean climate is always like that in November, but it sure was a nice change from Montana at that time of year.
Here's a portion of the old wall surrounding the city, this portion near the Piazza le Brasile. Our group was to meet for supper near here a little later, which gave me time to walk down to the Piazza de Repubblica, a portion of which can be seen below.
That was one very full day-- my feet were killing me at the end, but I'd do it all over again in a second.
Like a lot of kids of my generation, I first encountered Popeye not in the funny pages, but in animated cartoons that were pretty ubiquitous on TV in the sixties. So I was pretty familiar with the cast of characters by the time I discovered their print adventures. 
Created by the endlessly imaginative E.C. Segar right after World War I, the strip existed as a platform for the nebbishy adventurer Castor Oyl (brother of Olive) for most of its first decade, under the title Thimble Theater. But it really raised its profile, both comedically and in terms of exotic adventures, with the introduction of the muttering Popeye the Sailor. 
A big part of what made Segar's work so engaging was the amazing cast of freaky characters who populated his world (in fact, the most ordinary of them-- Castor-- disappeared more or less for good after Popeye came along). Wimpy, Alice the Goon, the Sea Hag, the Jeep, not to mention Olive Oyl and Bluto, were all kind of weird and creepy though in a mostly benign sort of way.
Popeye was-- strangely given his own characteristic oddities, not least his propensity for violence-- the normal one that provided some degree of grounding in this bizarre world.
Unlike many of his cartoonist contemporaries, Segar was not much of an experimentor with regard to layout or other visual elements in his strip. Instead, the appeal is mainly in the great characterizations and variations on recurring themes, like Popeye's courtship of Olive Oyl or Wimpy's endless pursuit of food, preferably free. 
Recently Fantagraphis Press began reprinting Segar's strip, beginning with the introduction of Popeye, so if you'd like to see more of this classic strip, it should be available in bookstores and libraries. After Segar's death, the strip was continued by lesser artists, but the originl stuff is well worth hunting up.
"I urge you to please notice when you are happy,
Over the years I've taken a bunch of pictures at concerts. But usually, because I was sitting far away, or at a weird angle, or just lacked the imagination or technique, most of the photos I've taken are pretty mundane. Luckily my new editing software gives me the ability to turn these into something at least (to me) somewhat more interesting. Above is a picture of Robert Cray from about three years ago in which I've turned the original's lack of focus into less of an issue by employing some painterly effects.
Same deal with this long shot of Richie Havens and friends, performing at Artpark on the Niagara Gorge. Reducing the dark colors to black and gray makes this a little less busy and somewhat crisper than in its original state.
This is Amy Rigby last summer in Rochester. I brought the colors out to heighten the contrast with the artist in black and added a few layers of other effects to create the washed out look. These may not be great art-- but believe me, they're more interesting to look at than what I started out with (and I say that as the person who took the photos in the first place).
"I think I cannot preserve my health and spirits 
Here's a nice photo of Liz, Richard and Marenka from a few years ago. Now normally, you might expect me to ask where it was taken, but I'm pretty sure Lizzie would jump right in and hit that one out of the park, so no. What I'd like to know is who, as I was snapping this picture, was standing on the other side of Richard shooting the same scene from a different angle? Put your guesses in the comments section and I'll publish the full uncropped version of this next week to reveal the answer.
I'm constantly amazed at the unknown talents of my nephews and nieces, like being able to ride a miniature bicycle. Do you suppose Gerik can pop a wheelie on that thing? Is it my imagination or are his knees bumping up against the handlebars?
Okay, I know well that Emma now walks, but I'm kind of curious, does she talk too?
"If a faction consists of less than a majority, relief is 
Well I finally got around to whipping up that batch of Cream of Carrot Soup I've been planning ever since I inadvertently bought carrots on two consecutive trips to the market, doubling my supply. This was, without question, the most orange thing I've ever cooked (and possibly the most orange thing I've ever eaten), and guess what? It was pretty good! I resisted the temptation to go off-recipe, especially with regard to the spices (just salt and pepper, some parsley and basil) and the end result was smooth and creamy, with a nicely enhanced carrot flavor. I had thought about tossing in some roasted red pepper when I blended the carrots, but forgot to put some in the oven ahead of time. Next time, I 'll go ahead and experiment, but at least I'll know the foundation is strong enough to sustain some variation. I'm thinking that I might try to make some cauliflower soup next, or maybe sweet potato, though in the latter case I'll be trying to match the lofty standard set by the Sweet Potato Pablano at Fables, so that might be a tad ambitious.
"The noblest man living in a desert absorbs something
Here are three more pictures I've been playing around with on PhotoShop Elements. Above is Buffalo's City Hall, which started out as a tilted, off-center, somewhat out-of-focus, and garishly colored snapshot. Now I think it looks like a shot from a film noir. 
Speaking of film, this is a picture I took at the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles last year. I don't think I'm finished with this one, but thought it looked good enough to share. It was originally a color shot, which I converted to black and white, and then proceeded to tint. I think I can do a better job with the green in the hills (which ought to be mixed with some brown), so I'll probably work on this one some more.
This started out as a pretty mundane photo of some priests milling about in front of the Parthenon in Rome. I can't remember what all effects I employed here, but the idea was to heighten the contrast, brighten the colors, and create the impression of a, well, impressionist painting, and I think I got pretty close. Comments are welcome.
Here's something of a companion post to the review of Dean Wareham's Black Postcards that I posted last night. Like that book, Anvil! The Story of Anvil chronicles the career of some long-time rock and roll disciples, in this case the titular band whose roots go back twenty plus years. The film attracted attention upon release as a real-life mirror of the famous mockumentary This Is Spinal Tap which came out around the time Anvil first hit the big time in the early eighties. For the first thirty or forty minutes of this film, the comparison is apt, as the filmmakers seem inclined to recognize a kind of black humor in Anvil's fall from the spotlight, and the continuing efforts of primary members Steve "Lips" Kudlow and Robb Reiner to reclaim some degree of fame and success are kind of played for laughs. But as the film goes on, the tone changes to one of almost admiration for the desperate persistance of Lips in particular, to pursue his dream of stardom. In the end, this comes across as more a celebration of the rock and roll myth of realizing your dreams (and I guess, the importance of holding on to those dreams) than a takedown of the misguided or deluded commitment to such an ideal (which was kind of the point behind Spinal Tap). Unlike Wareham, who is willing to examine his choices and their consequences (and see their connection to the bigger context of the pop music industry) with clear-eyed rationality, Lips clings to something he imagined as a teenager was his due. He ascribes all his setbacks to not his own shortcomings, but bad timing or bad luck that's certain to change if he only remains true to his dream. To some this might appear noble (and Lips pretty clearly is willing to work at it), but to me it borders on pathetic-- not that Lips wants to continue to make and perform music, but that he can only measure success in terms of a commercial breakthrough and the concurrent trappings of stardom, the likelihood of which pretty clearly passed a long time ago. Having said all that, the movie itself is quite entertaining, and though you might draw some different conclusions about Lips and the band than I did, if you're a rock fan it's worth seeing.
"...the kind of logic in mythical thought is as rigorous
Some years ago a friend of mine talked about quitting the academic life and going on the road to play music. He seemed convinced that it would be a glorious life full of excitement, money (if not riches), and psychic comfort far surpassing that of a teacher. I'd known enough musicians to warn him that it probably wouldn't be all milk and honey, but he didn't want to hear it (though in the end he also didn't take the plunge-- I guess maintaining the fantasy was more important). Dean Wareham spent most of the past twenty odd years in a couple of bands that actually had recording contracts with major labels, achieved considerable critical success, toured the world and cultivated fairly a fair number of rabid fans (I count myself in that group, with respect to his latter group, Luna). Even though I knew that most working musicians struggle mightily to keep ahold of their dreams of stardom, from all outward appearances, Galaxie 500 and Luna seemed to have made it. They weren't superstars in the Rolling Stones or U2 sense, but on the more modest scale of alternative rock groups, it would be easy to think that they had it made. Not so. Wareham's account makes it pretty clear that while there are certain rewards to grinding it out, in the end it's at best a wash next to the sacrifices made along the way. Wareham's deadpan style seems humorous at first, as he described the early stages of building a career in music, but by the end it becomes apparent that it's a reflection of being beat down over the endless van rides, personality clashes with bandmates, fans, and business types, and the physical and emotional exhaustion of trying to sustain a career as the music industry as a whole started its rapid decline by the late nineties. Don't get me wrong, it's a fascinating story, and kudos to Wareham for telling it straight. There are enough hints along the way to suggest that he could've written himself into the stereotypical rock star part without stretching things too much. Instead he conveys the work of being in a band, and while the high points justify the effort for awhile, it clearly becomes more and more difficult with the passage of time as the big commercial breakthrough fails to materialize (as happened to both of his groups, despite their great press). Just to be clear-- I didn't ever get the impression that making music was the problem, and Wareham remains active as a musician. It's all the stuff that went into supporting the creative process materially that became a drag. The stories of how first Galaxie 500 and then later Luna split apart have noticeable points of comparison with the breakup of the Beatles (which was recently chronicled in Rolling Stone on the anniversary of their split), and I suspect factor into the relatively short lifespan of most bands. As Wareham points out, those who stick together longer-- like U2 or the Rolling Stones-- do so as profitable corporations, not the group of pals they were when they started. Having studied the popular music industry in some depth, I know this is not a new phenomenon. Wareham's description is nonetheless fresh for his willingness to not just to describe the challenges confronting his bands, but to think through and offer explanations for the factors (whether personal or institutional) that define what it means to try and have a career in music. It's a good read, and likely to make you revise what you imagine about your own favorite band.
It's time to wish my big sister Sara many happy returns on this, the anniversary of her birth. The picture above is a couple of years old, but still a pretty fair likeness. I hope you have a great day, Sally, and that good fortune continues to smile on you from here on. Consider this a virtual hug from a couple thousand miles away!
"I love America more than any other country 
