Steve Albini Talks of Food

For some reason, I'm looking up Steve Albini interviews on the web. I guess it's because I'm listening to The Breeders Pod. Who knows? Anyway, I came across this gem of an interview. I'm not sure how it was conducted; I'm assuming via e-mail, as he takes time to criticize (hilariously, I might add) the poor grammar and spelling in a couple of places. An enjoyable read for indie scenesters and foodies alike.

O: What's your favorite body part on a woman?

SA: Um, there's a tendon that goes between the thigh and the beaver on a young lady. That particular area has always been of great appeal to me.

A chuckle-inducing interview with noise-rock icron and producer--I mean, engineer--Steve Albini. Funnier if you know the reputation the man has, but still good on a "look what they're doing to this guy" level as well.

BEST. EPISODE. EVER.

So, I saw Episode II: Attack of the Clones this past weekend. No, it wasn't the best episode ever. I was just messing with ya. But it was not nearly as brutal as critics would have you believe. Unless, of course, you cut out the last twenty-odd minutes of the movie. Then its pretty craptacular fare. Maybe not the blight on cinematic history that some of the more "learned" critical poseurs are making it out to be, but it was definitely not "The Empire Strikes Back."

The worst part of the movie was the love story. Now, I am not averse to romance. But a romantic angle inside of a sci-fi/action film can go wrong in so many ways, and this one did. Most of it can be chalked up to Hayden Christiansen's terrible, terrible acting (Jake Lloyd was better!) and Lucas' cliche addled romantic dialogue. Whatever can't be pinned on this year's model of Anakin Skywalker can be pinned on how forced it all came off in the context of the movie.

Now, there were some other cheesy, should have been put on the editing floor moments, but to point them all out (deathsticks? c'mon!) would be nitpicking. However, the movie was made in a big way at the end. So as not to spoil your enjoyment of the movie, I will sum it up thusly:

Yoda.

Lightsaber.

Kick ass!

This really was worth my nine bucks. The rest of the movie could have been all Jar Jar (who, thank the maker, had very little screen time in this episode) and I still would have left the theater happy if the last part of the movie remained the same. This is also what will get the die-hard fans going back, much to the chagrin of the cinema pundits. It's funny, a number of reviews seem to decry the fact that these movies don't live up to the standards of the originals. But the fact is, they're the same: cheesy dialogue, intriguing characters, great special effects, and the good guys win in the end. (Usually.) I think people are just disappointed that a part of their childhood is being pulled out of the rusty trunk that is hidden in the corner of their nostalgia basement (beneath their memories of Lincoln Logs and Lite Brite) and given to a new generation of moviegoers, who they probably do not deem worthy. And while I agree with them in principle, the fact remains that most of the people crying foul on the new movies lost their sense of wonder a long time ago, and are too busy quaffing latte's for their opinions to be relevant to anybody but themselves and their editors.

Anyway...sorry about the long-winded rant. Hey! Speaking of cultural irrelevance, tonight is the series finale of Ally McBeal. It's about fucking time.

But, I don't want to end this on a negative note, so one last item of business: Adult Swim is the funniest shit on tv. They ran the great "Welcome to Eltingville" pilot again last night, which of course if the creation of Evan Dorkin (who, along with Sarah Dyer, have their web presence at the very cool House of Fun). I really hope that the series gets picked up. If you saw it and would like to lend your support to the show, go here. Definitely check out Adult Swim when you get a chance, though.

Anyway, just an hour until the post-Judgment Day Raw, and I need to get my eat on. I'm going to try to update this a bit more regularly, as it turns out a couple of my favorite ladies actually check out the spot on occasion, and I'd hate to disappoint them.

Well, I'm about seven hours from seeing Episode II: Attack of the Clones (worst...title...ever!) and something is bothering me. It's not the impending sense of dread that comes with preparing to endure Jar Jar Binks. And it's certainly not the letdown factor, as my hopes are much much lower after seeing The Phantom Menace. It's not even the possibility of having to suffer costumed fanatics (even though I secretly want to dress like Boba Fett). What is bothering me is the transparent zeal and giddy viciousness that is flooding the early reviews of the movie. I read the scathing criticisms and think "Jesus tap-dancing Christ, this has got to be the worse movie ever. Possibly even worse than Rocky IV." But there's something in the reviews that doesn't sit right. They all seem too well-prepared, as if these remarks were written before they even got to see the opening credits crawl. I get the feeling that these reviews were written months ago, then filtered endlessly until nothing is left but the most bile-filled prose imaginable. You'd think by reading the reviews that George Lucas himself was bending them over and boning them with a sandpaper condom. The hateful glee that saturates the pages is practically sliding off, blackening the fingers like the Devil's blood.

Now, I realize that they have a job to do. And I'm sure that the movie is not above being a steaming pile of shit. But where is the vindictiveness coming from? Are they pissed that people will go see this movie just because it's another Star Wars movie? Okay, fine, there's something wrong with blind allegiance to a brand. But you know, these are the same critics who never miss a new Hal Hartley film, for example, without giving it a second thought. (That's not a knock on Mr. Hartley, as he is one of my favorite directors.) It's the hypocrisy of it all: as if unquestioned devotion to a director simply because he's more of an indie "auteur" than a big "Hollywood director" is somehow noble. And you just know that these same critics, so hip and knowing are also trying to get on the guest list for the next Strokes show, because they saw them on M2 and think their sound is fresh. And besides, didn't Rolling Stone call them a hot new band? Fucking poseur critic assholes.

I'd like to close this little screed with something from the rant-meister himself: "The key thing to remember about all critics is that they remain dependent on the innovator, the person doing the real work of creating. And because they just sit on the sidelines of life, never the hunter, they are doomed to be forgotten."

So, to you critics out there who are trying to outshine your fellow critics in pissing on the latest Star Wars release because it's the in-thing to do, enjoy. But remember, you can count the number of critics whose body of work can genuinely called works of art on one hand and still have a thumb left to jam up your ass. Have fun on your way back to obscurity.

Obey Giant
Viva phenomenolgy! A cool (and fairly well-known) site. Naturally, the design is solid. Join in the phenomenon. Get your posse on!

Welcome to Ecstasky!
Now this is the only way to fly. This is an idea whose time has surely come. It doesn't mention price, though, I don't have quicktime, so one of the clips might mention this. At any rate, I'm sure it is well outside of the price range of your average Joe Planeticket traveler. Still, just goes to show that sex can be used anywhere for anything.

This is why you don't get a pony!
I'm sorry, I've been away all this time, and this is how I make my triumphant return: with beastiality! I only posted this because I thought it was funny they pixillated the horse's face. Now he may gallop about without gawkers saying, "there's the poor animal who was violated by that awful, awful man."

As always, the Sun gives us the real news.