Mixin' it up

I've just recently come into a stack of CDs just PACKED with songs that will only result in an absolutely mind-blowingly awesome mixed "tape" for all those WCFCers out there who want one. I'm gonna work on it tonight and will try to have a demo ready to mail out tomorrow.

OOH! I just got a great idea. Check back with me real soon and I'll let you know if it's operational.

You know what I want?

A public fucking option.

Going Rogue

So goes the title of Sarah Palin's upcoming autobiography.*

Sarah, Sarah, Sarah....you do know what "rogue" means don't you? Please go here, if you do not. My fave part of this definition?

"Biology. a usually inferior organism, esp. a plant, varying markedly from the normal."

Why doesn't this woman have any handlers? Isn't there just one person who cares about her enough to tell her that she is behaving like a jackass?

As for the picture: This is a gem I found online. Please go to Dan Lacy, Painter of Pancakes for more of his great work! I don't know Dan Lacy, but I like his aesthetic.

*My guess is that David Brooks already claimed "Going Mountebank".

That Sh*t is Effed UP.

So, have you been reading about MacKenzie Philips' (One Day at A Time) revelation that she had a long-term rape-based incestuous relationship with her father, "Papa" John Philips (The Mamas and the Papas)? Yeah, you read that right.

It's a very sad story in every aspect: A grown woman must sort through her drug addled youth to find peace in her later years, and in so doing confronts the fact that those drugs fueled and anesthetized her to the sordid life that her father created for her. Now, she has written a tell-all about those years and has just gone on Oprah to share, in brief, why we might be interested in buying her book.

I think I watched a True Hollywood Story on MacKenzie Philips a few years ago, and while the incest allegations were not there, the story of how her father gave her cocaine when she was a tween and how he practically facilitated her destructive lifestyle is old news. And it was also common knowledge among those who knew the Philips family. Now that MacKenzie has decided to share the even darker side of this story, I'm surprised to see how many people are quickly jumping to the conclusion that she is making the incest aspect up. For a taste of this, check out the responses to Tracy Clark-Flory's provocative inquiry on the Broadsheet at Salon.com.

Although her step-mothers doubt it, MacKenzie's half-sister, Chynna ("Wilson & Philips"), has said that she believes her. Why should or shouldn't we? What is in it for us to deny the allegations? Why do some people find comfort in rejecting the claim that something unconscionable has happened? Does it make the ickiness go away so easily? Are we more comfortable with the notion that someone has defamed her dead father just to sell a book? (What a sad indictment on our capitalistic culture that this is merely an act of poor taste). And what is with the assertion that MacKenzie has no right to air this dirty laundry now that her father is dead because he can't defend himself? What if he were alive and admitted fault? Would that make it easier to deal with?

Well, I don't envy MacKenzie Philips in any way. I'll accept her claim that her life experience is beyond comprehension for those who were raised by sober, humane, protective and honest men. If her goal is to defame her rock-n-roll star father, it is probably because he betrayed her deeply. If she just wants to make a buck, it's a sure indication that he raised her poorly. If she simply wants to share her story to relieve herself of the pain and possibly help others do the same, than she is transcending his influence on her. Either way, I feel very sorry for her.

Bag it. Tag it. Sell it to the butcher in the store.

I've developed a pronounced revulsion to Glenn Beck's face. I cannot look at it without feeling anxious. When I am scrolling through my daily news feeds online, I register his face and frantically move to another site. My two web standbys have been running pictures of him daily for the past week or so, and in response, I've been developing a capacity to blur my vision just enough avoid taking in the details of his face. Why? Because his face has become the symbol of all that I dislike about this country and it pains me that he has become so ubiquitous, either through admiration or derision. My earlier enthusiasm about advertisers pulling out on his show--what an apt, if vulgar, pun!--was obviously unwarranted because he just keeps on pumping out more and more hysteria inducing misinformation. I just hope his notoriety is a sign that he is reaching the pinnacle of his fame and will soon fade away.

You've Got the Look

Tonight is the 80's Themed Humane Society Benefit, and I am really excited about the trivia contest. I like to think I know a few things about this decade, mostly because I was raised on television and radio. Guests are invited to come in costume, which is a great idea, but I'm rarely up for that so I'll likely take a pass. Nevertheless, I have been thinking about what I might wear if I had the wardrobe at hand. I expect we'll see a bunch of valley girl and punkrockers. But I think extra praise should go to anyone who dresses up in these signature styles of the 80s:

Look #1: Outrageous Fortune

Sine Qua Non: Dynasty
What to wear: Dior/Lagerfeld/Fredericks of Hollywood. Diamonds and other precious gems. Ostrich feathers. Hairspray. Kibuki-inspired make-up. Georgio Beverly Hills.
What to do: Walk with authority, scorn your subordinates, drop casual hints about your outrageous wealth, smack the most handsome man at the party, toss champagne in the face of your rival.
Variations on a Theme: Any glamor-oriented character will achieve the same affect with minor alterations. Consider the supermodel (starve; pull hair back tightly into severe bun), Liz Taylor (cloak yourself in furs), Leona Helmsley (sneer viciously and carry a dog), or Nancy Reagan (requires disproportionate head size to adequately pull off).
Male Alternative: This is simple. Wear a tuxedo and either a white or red scarf. Hair should trend toward the pompadour. Carry tumbler of scotch; tell off-color jokes. Think John Taylor from Duran Duran (for the young), or Blake Carrington (for the more mature).

Look #2: Club Tropicana

Sine qua Non: Wham!
What to wear: In fairness to Wham! they did have a variety of looks. But in and around 1982, they were working hard to bring the fun and carefree spirit of the Big Island to the dreary streets of London. To affect this look you will need your dad's swim trunks, Magnum P.I.'s shirt, Ban de Soleil/QT Tanning lotion, and a DIY highlighting kit. Resist the urge to manscape: your chest hair is your crowning glory, let it grow! Let it show! Your cologne is suntan lotion and sweat.
What to do: Jitterbug. Lounge. Drink pina coladas. Slip off to the bathroom for anonymous sex.
Variations on a theme: This look does not work the same for all ages. But, just because your hairline is retreating doesn't mean you have to! For the more mature, consider emulating the fashion sensibilities of Phil Collins (linen slacks, loose rayon-blend blouse, sandals). Oh, and don't count on getting any in the bathroom unless you can pay for it.
Female Alternative: The bimbo model from any David Lee Roth video is a worthy counter weight to the ambiguously gay Club Tropicana look. Yellow string bikinis and bleach blond hair goes a long way in affecting the same spirit of the age.

Look #3: Plastic Passion

Sine Qua Non: Dale Bozzio of Missing Persons
What to wear: Leggs Eggs, bubble wrap, Hefty Synch-sacks. Tape? I'm not sure how these are held together; use your ingenuity.
What to do: There is not a whole lot you can do wrapped in plastic. Stand like a mannequin and quip obtusely about the state of American culture. Irritate everyone around you with half a brain; inspire awe in those with the other half. Just don't sit down unless you have a back-up synch-sack.
Variations on a theme: Any avant garde look will do here. If you are an incredibly tall black woman, consider shaving your head and going as Grace Jones. If you are a petite white woman, you have Lauri Anderson to emulate. Just be careful not to inadvertently expose the extent to which Lady Gaga has stolen her look from Dale Bozzio, even if she says otherwise (Side note to Lady Gaga: Yes, your look IS inspired by others, despite your assertions to the contrary. Just because you weren't alive in 1981, doesn't mean the rest of us can't recall a day when self-absorbed, pseudo-relevant "artists" like you freely roamed the earth).

There are many others, especially those that trend towards the extreme ends of the decade (Paula Abdul c. "Straight Up!" or The Rolling Stones c. "Start Me Up"). I look forward to seeing what my friends and neighbors come up with tonight.

Say, Joy K...

Did I just forfeit your offer by publishing your clearly unethical offer?

Poll: Should I sell out?

I received the most interesting email today:

Hello,

I'm Joy from SeoBlogReviews.com.

I would like to know if by any chance you would be interested in getting paid to publish reviews of products and websites on your blog http://willcooleyfanclub.blogspot.com/.

If you are interested please let us know the amount of money you want in order to publish a review by clicking the following link:

http://blog.seoblogreviews.com/default/index/78dc52a1723c2f8b2273a9995d63b963

As soon as you do that we'll start sending you paid review proposals from our customers.

Thanks,

The SeoBlogReviews.com Team

This was, as you can see, totally unsolicited. I clicked on the link, and examined the form to learn more. It is just as JudyK said: I review blogs and get paid. But here are some interesting stipulations:

• Do not ask for an amount which is TOO LOW FOR YOU AND THEN LATER ON REJECT THE OFFERS WE SEND YOU on the basis the the amount is too low. If you do that you'll be BANNED from our system.
• Do not ask for an amount which is too high, you'll probably never receive any offer if the amount you request is too high.

Of course, they do not suggest a price--that is up to you. And here's another interesting aspect of the arrangement:

Are you willing NOT TO MENTION the fact that those reviews are Paid/Sponsored Reviews? (You'll receive MUCH MORE Paid Reviews Offers if you choose YES)

And, fascinatingly, this:

Are you willing to write the review in a language different than that used on your Blog?

I don't know. My gut says, "Danger! Danger!" But my brain says, "Free Money!" It is clearly a Faustian bargain. What should I do?

Graffiti with Integrity

The public library in town is one of my favorite places to hang out on Saturdays. I only need 15 minutes in there to feel a little less stressed, a little less bothered, and a little more content with where I live. The library is not too far from the high school, and it is across from the skate park, making it an important hangout for the under-18 crowd.

Now, few among my readers will deny that persons between the ages of 13 and 18 years are extraordinarily deep. But did you know that they are also exceedingly conscientious? It's true! Why just look at this evidence, as recorded off one of the glorious white columns in front of the library:

"It is not the years in your life that count, but the life in your years." --Unknown

See! The graffito gave due diligence to quote attribution, even when s/he new s/he had just seconds to spare before being caught defacing public property. S/he did so, even as s/he had NO IDEA WHO SAID THIS. (Note: It's Abraham Lincoln, a man who may still be persona non grata in Mississippi.)

This is what you get in a community full of scholars.

I'm New to This Viral Thing

Forget how I found it or why it took me so long. I give you:

Redrum: "Play him off, Keyboard Cat"

Horror Time All the Time

It is Fall again, and as the air gets cooler (theoretically), the leaves turn colors, and the days get shorter, I get positively giddy about one thing: Halloween! As I've posted before, I love everything about it. But I especially love the way I can sit around on a chilly day and watch some of the best and worst movies ever made. To hell with Saturdays in the Grove, give me Friday the 13th!

TBS used to run a show hosted by Joe Bob Briggs that--for reasons unrelated to my parent's general indifference to my emotional well-being**--I was able to catch every Saturday as an adolescent. Joe Bob especially loved to show horror movies that featured teens slain at camp. He was a purest. He had no time for movies made before 1970 or after 1985. He wasn't interested in zombies or sci-fi. He just wanted to see more movies where teenagers got skewered for being teenagers! Where the beautiful and snotty were punished for mistreating the ugly and weak! Where the weak died, too, because the only people who deserve to live are those who can run faster than and eventually kill the killer!

Having become addicted to the frisson of fear or simple suspense that these films evoked, I began to spend my allowance on Betamax tapes of other terror/horror movies at the local video store. This opened me up to a whole knew set of experiences, mostly because these movies were not edited for television. I steadily worked my way through the smörgasbørd of films until I encountered the one that changed everything for me: "Last House on the Left". This movie is so vile, so reprehensible, so depraved--nothing, so far as I am aware, even comes close to it. I hated it. I hated how it made me feel as a witness to the events depicted. I hated that anyone would think it a great idea to make a film about these events and that people were willing to act out these scenarios, even artificially. Does it surprise anyone that Rob Zombie decided to remake it? This film snuffed--pun intended--my macabre interest in the genre, and, combined with the terrible coincidence of reading Vincent Bugliosi's case notes on the Manson Murders, Helter Skelter (*shudder*), brought me to the end of this supremely immature phase.

Now that I'm a big girl, I really only want to see horror movies as I did as a kid: Joe Bob-style. Only, since then I've seen a few classics that are real winners (ex., "Village of the Damned" c. 1960). With DVR (and the Chiller Network) I can now just scan the menu of movies on cable celebrating Halloween and record them for when the mood is right. So here are a list of the movies that I'd like to see this Fall:

1. "The Changeling" (1980) --the most chilling haunted house movie you'll ever see starring George C. Scott. (Wait, do I need a comma in that sentence?)



2. "Halloween" (1978)--It's Halloween! This one is a must.


3. "Friday the 13th" (1980)--"You're doomed! You're all doomed!" Actually, I think I prefer "Friday the 13th, II", because it was the first one I ever saw and it scared the pants off of me. And, in truth, I don't really like the slasher horror aspect of it very much. What I do love is all of the suspense! I mean, you know those kids are gonna get it, but HOW?!? WHEN?!?


4. "Student Bodies" (1980) -- I'd completely forgotten about this until Amy made mention of it on FB today. Recently I was trying to remember why Richard Belzer, a comedian/actor who I now have a generally warm regard for, freaked me out as a kid, and I think this may be why: He does the voice of the Breather.


5. "Sleepaway Camp" (1983) Some people I know remember this as the scariest movie they've ever seen. These people are morans. I remember watching this for the first time with my sisters, c. 1984, and we burst out laughing at the end. Sorry, hate to kill it for you. But it is still a masterpiece of craptacular acting. I found the trailer for this movie, but then found something better: The Angela's Theme Music Video. It will leave you asking, "No. Seriously. What the fuck?" You can thank me later.


6. "The Blair Witch Project" (1999) I was inordinately excited about this movie when it came out and saw it on the first showing at the movie theater. That same year I went to the best haunted house I've ever seen put on by high school students (well, it's easy when the building you are using is an ACTUAL INSANE ASYLUM). Anyway, the two combined made for a pretty spectacular Halloween season. (There's a special treat for my Swedish readers!)


So you tell me: What would you like to see?

**I'm joking. My parents are wonderful people who were always concerned to see me flourish into the gentle, pure-intentioned innocent that I am today. I love them.

Joe Wilson Said Your Sister's a Skank

Click on the hyperlink to find out what else Joe "You Lie" Wilson said:

http://joewilsonisyourpreexistingcondition.com/

(be sure to click on the text on the website for a new accusation)

We're #37!

Everyone sing along!

The Beatles Box Set

Ah, the box set: A collection of nearly every song written by your favorite band, a band for which up till now you were content to simply buy each of their albums individually. Now, you can have all of those albums again, in just one box! For $129.00!

As a matter of fact, I do not own any box sets. I hold that there is not enough love in the world to warrant my throwing down the mad cash needed to buy these collections, and frankly, no band has ever done it enough for me to change my mind. I might could go for a box set of a genre or a record label, but not one band. With a record label approach, one is likely to be introduced to a whole pile of new stuff. But when we are talking about a band that we've liked enough in our lifetime to buy at least six of their albums, the box set seems redundant. Oh, and am I the only one who can't tell what it means to be "remastered"? Mind you, I'm not poo-pooing the box set in principle, I'm just not that profligate with my money.

The Surviving Beatles (Paul and Ringo) are savvy dealers, and I have no problem with their willingness to wring another dime out of the industry. They were royally mistreated as youngsters, and they are getting their revenge. With more money coming their way as a result of their new box set AND Guitar Hero, they may be able to buy back their catalog from the Jackson estate. I wish them luck.

So, give the lads a hand, will you? I won't, but only because they've already collected their fair share from me personally. And, besides, now that George is gone, it will only make me sad.

In lieu of buying this collection of the Beatles discography and telling you all about it, let me alert you to the delightfully deadpan review of said box set by Chuck Klosterman at the AV Club.

Here's a teaser:

Now hitting on all 16 cylinders, the Beatles bolted back to the woodshed for The Beatles, a blandly designed masterwork that could inspire any reasonable citizen of California to launch a race war. To this day, we don’t know much about the four men who comprised the Beatles, but listening to this exceedingly non-black album makes one detail totally clear—these guys truly loved each other.

Enjoy the rest here.

Today in Internetting

Please, do yourself and me a favor and click on all of the links below. We'll debrief over drinks sometime this weekend:

an old man with breast implants
(Thanks to my sister for turning me onto peopleofwalmart.com)


(OK!)

A Little Debbie tattoo
Not as cute as you'd think. (?)

I Just Can't Get Enough

I've entered a napping phase.
It has everything to do with my new schedule. I'm getting up much earlier than I had been during the summer and I'm a little unsteady on my feat by mid-afternoon. Yesterday, I slept too long. Much too long. But it felt great! The primary drawback was that I didn't fall asleep again until much too late. I still woke up early this morning, which meant that I required another nap this afternoon. Things will work out just fine as long as I'm willing to abandon any plans for professional development. I am at a cross-roads here. I must ask myself "which do I want more: career fulfillment or a daily nap?" As Grampa Simpson would say, "A little of column A, a little of column B." At or around 2pm, I'll take my dose of column B, thank you.

As Sweet Pickles' recent post indicates, napping can produce some vivid dream experiences. Yesterday I dreamed that I couldn't stop telling demonstrably untrue, but totally benign stories about people. Things like, "After I told him about the barn-raising, he told me he always wanted to be Amish." As folks began to share the untruths I was promoting, I began to worry I'd be exposed for the tale-teller I had become, so I attempt to confess everything to everyone: "I tell stories that are not true: He never said he wished to be Amish. Please, don't hate me! I don't know why I do what I do!" Typically, I woke up feeling very ashamed of myself and wondering how I was going to correct the imaginary lies I'd told in my dreams. I still feel vaguely confused and concerned, although I am not actually waiting for any sort of real-life discovery process to take place.

In honor of this fugue, here's a song for you:

Everybody's Doing it, Why can't we?

Favorite post from shitmydadsays:

"You need to flush the toilet more than once...No, YOU, YOU specifically need to. You know what, use a different toilet. This is my toilet."

For more on dogs, babies, bacon and Kate Beckinsale, I recommend you check it out.